He chuckled, a deep, sexy sound that made me wish I was funnier so he’d do it again. “You heard that,huh?”
“He’s a master. At the coffee-making.” Sweat formed along my hairline. “Er, he’s a great barista—Luciano, Imean.”
The man wasn’t just intimidatingly large with equally impressive posture. Every piece of his look was perfectly in place, from a shiny gold tie that cut straight down the center of a crisp, white dress shirt to mahogany-colored wingtip brogues so polished I could probably see my own reflection in them. Heat crept up my chest andneck.
“So, is he a friend of yours, Luciano?” he asked. “Or. . .”
It would almost make more sense that a man this handsome and well-dressed would be talking to me to get to Luciano. Except, having grown up with a gay best friend, my radar for these things was usually pretty accurate, and I wasn’t getting that vibe at all. “Just a friend,” I said and tested the waters with, “He’savailable.”
He smiled. “I wasn’t asking for—” A small, high-pitched voice cut into our moment, and it took me a second to realize it was coming from the man’s cell. He put it to his ear. “Justin,” he said into the phone. “Forgot you were there.” He hesitated, then gave me an apologetic look as he stepped away and asked, “What’s this news that can’twait?”
Luciano handed my new drink over the counter. “Who’s the sexysuit?”
“Not sure,” I said, “but he’sstraight.”
“As an arrow,” Lucianoagreed.
“If I had time, I’d stay to find out more, but I want to get upstairs a little early.” I blew him a kiss as I turned to leave. “See youlater.”
I was about to exit the café when the door flew open, forcing me to jump back. Joan, the woman who’d taken my drink earlier, blew by me, stomping to the front. “This isn’t skinny,” she said to thebarista.
Lu’s coworker looked up slowly, his eyebrows cinched. “Sorry. . . ?”
“You made my drink wrong.” She showed him where whole milk was marked on the cup. “It was supposed to be non-fat, sugar-free, withoutwhip.”
Luciano came out of the back with a tray of three drinks. “Number one boss,” he calledout.
I glanced over at the man in the suit, who was now pacing the far side of the café. He rubbed his temples with one large hand as he spoke into the phone. “Now?” he asked, sounding angry. “As in, this morning? When was thatdecided?”
“I didn’t make your drink, ma’am,” the barista said, calling my attentionback.
“It doesn’t matter who made it,” Joan replied. “It’swrong.”
“Imade it.” Luciano ignored her glare as he capped a drink and added, “Is there aproblem?”
“It’s not skinny. I want a new drink andobviouslya refund for having to walk all the wayback.”
If she’d taken the correct drink in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. Luciano was likely thinking the same thing, because he looked right at me. He wasn’t able to put her in her place without risking his job. The thought of doing it for him made me panic even though standing up for my best friend should’ve been areflex.
“Well?” the woman asked Luciano. “Are you just going to standthere?”
“You actually picked up the wrong drink,” he responded, finally facingher.
“So this is my fault?” Her neck reddened. “You should’ve written the correct name on it. Or don’t they teach you that in baristaschool?”
“We’ll be happy to remake it,” Luciano said evenly, but I could tell he was trying not tosnap.
“I’ll take a refund too,” she said, “and I’d like to see yourmanager.”
The man in the gold tie walked back across the café. “A simple ‘thank you’ would do,” he said to her as he tucked his cell in his breast pocket and turned his back to me. “Luciano just generously offered to remake a drinkyoumistakenly took. Why do you think it’s okay to speak to him thatway?”
I looked around him. Her expression fell as she took him in. “This isn’t really your business,” she said with lessconviction.
“You’re being unnecessarily rude, and as a human being, that’s my business.” He checked a heavy-looking chrome watch and picked up his drink tray. “He deserves an apology, and I hope you’ll rethink what you tell hismanager.”
Watching the heroic way he put her in her place made my heart pound, both with adrenaline and a tinge of fear. I couldn’t keep backing down to people like Joan, who had no consideration for others. Or Neal, who’d picked us an apartment closest tohissubway line, had us visitinghisfamily for holidays, and had me cook meals catered tohistastes.
Neal’s parting words, said after makeup sex I’d regret until the day I died, had weighed on me ever since.“Never should’ve left someone like you for a stronger woman, Georgina. They’re way too muchwork.”
