“For the record, I’m impressed.” His smile deepens the dimples in his cheeks and crinkles the corners of his eyes. “And don’t worry—no one noticed but me.”
My hand slips into my pocket to discreetly squeeze my stress ball, but his easy charm makes it impossible not to return his smile.
“Is this you?” he asks, glancing at the register. “Mocha special?”
“Yes,” I nod.
He turns to the barista, plating my loaf. “I’ll make this one.”
“I’m sure you will,” she laughs, and they exchange matching grins.
“You two must be related,” I say.
“Yep, this brat is Sophia, my kid sister.”
“I’m not a kid.” She rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. “But do you think I can convince him of that?”
“Never.” He laughs, and I like the sound. It’s warm and soothing, like melted honey over fresh bread. “Grab a seat,” he says, gesturing to the dining area. “I’ll bring out your order.”
I release the ball to pull out a ten-dollar bill.
“It’s on the house.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. Choices are always better than obligations, don’t you think?”
His words about choices hit deeper than he could know. “Thank you,” I offer sincerely, giving him another smile.
I find a table by the fire, my mind overly busy and stimulated by the sexy singer and unfamiliar surroundings. Calming the chaos in my head, I organize the sugar packets in their holder, aligning them by type—Raw Sugar, Stevia, and Splenda.There, that’s better.
Minutes later, he brings out my order. His presence draws the attention of everyone in the room. He’s met by a chorus of greetings, which he answers with chin lifts and good humor. I assume he’s the owner as I watch him stop several times to check in with patrons sipping their drinks.
A group of women at a nearby table is particularly eager for his attention. One of them calls out, “Hey C, you can sing for me anytime!” He offers them that killer smile as he makes his way toward me. If I could bottle the effect, I could sell it for millions.
“Here you go,” he says, setting down the plate and mug in front of me.
“Thank you.” I admire the artful snowflake in the foam. “Did you make this?”
“I did. Like a woman, each snowflake is unique.”
I can feel my cheeks flush. He’s entirely too charming. “I like your café.”
“Thanks. I like it, too.”
“What song were you playing earlier?”
“It’s untitled. Still a work in progress.”
He wrote it?I wonder what inspired the lonely lyrics. Surely, someone like him wouldn’t have trouble finding a willing partner.
“Customers are polite enough to let me try out my new material on them,” he adds.
“I doubt it’s politeness. You’re very talented.”
“You flatter me.” Another smile, this one more intimate, sends my heart into my throat. “I haven’t seen you here before. Just passing through town?”
“No. I arrived today for a mini vacation,” I say, spinning the truth.
