My heavy eyes feel even heavier when I realize just how tired I truly am. Good thing a great source of caffeine is just a few steps away.
The café has a homey feel and seems to attract a sizable crowd if the few empty seats are anything to go by. The earthy aroma of brewing coffee beans injects some life into me. The concrete walls and exposed brick give the shop an industrial feel, but the colorful couches, plush chairs, and snuggly pillows make it feel cozy. The large windows look as if they let in plenty of natural light on dim mornings. A bar with tall stools lines one of the windows, and small tables with a few chairs are scattered over the rest of the space.
Unbuttoning my cashmere coat, I feel the heat of the café warming my bones. I stalk to the counter and wait while the only two employees on shift scurry around filling orders. My stomach rumbles when I find a display case with mouthwatering pastries.
As I mull over what I want to order, an employee finally meets me at the register. I’m staring at the menu above her head, but I couldn’t ignore her presence if I tried. I can feel her there.
It’s like standing in front of the North Star. She shines brighter than everyone else. She’s the constant light that helps those who are lost navigate their way.
When I finally muster up the courage to look directly at her, I’m rendered speechless. The espresso tresses of her hair are pulled back into a loose braid that rests on one side over her shoulder. The caramel tone of her skin brings out the mocha hue of her eyes. Her outfit is plain, but it fails to hide the curves of her body and the roundness of her hips.
My mind immediately generates ideas that would allow me to get my hands on her, but none of them are honest. Women like her deserve an honest man, a good man. But fuck, I want her.
She’s what men dream of finding in their lives.
The perfect Dream Girl.
“H—” She finally looks up from the register and cuts herself off when our eyes meet. Her plump lips part slightly as her eyes scan my frame.
A smug smile pulls at my lips, knowing she’s at a loss for words. Teasingly, I prompt, “Yes?”
“Um. Right.” She clears her throat but won’t look at me again. “Hi, welcome to Mocha Lisa. What can I get for you?”
“Medium hot macchiato,” I answer.
“You got it,” she replies as she presses buttons on her screen. She turns away to begin making the drink.
“Wait.” I wave my hand at her. When she faces me, I ask, “Don’t I need to pay for it?”
An embarrassed titter slips from her mouth as blush colors her cheeks. “Right.”
After I pay, she scampers away, joining another employee who is busy at the espresso machines. I step back and watch from a few feet away.
She calls out other people’s names, handing them their drinks in white paper travel mugs as I patiently wait for my own.
There are a million other things I should be doing while I wait, but the sexy barista has my full attention. With her back to me, I have an unobstructed view of her luscious ass in tight blue jeans.
The things I would do to her…
When my drink is done, I watch as she opens her mouth to call my name, but realizes that she never asked for it.
I put her out of her misery with a wave of my hand at her. “Rory.”
Her shoulders relax as she moves around the counter to bring me my macchiato, something she didn’t do for anyone else. I’m taking that as a good sign.
I move to meet her halfway, but her focus is on the floor, so she doesn’t see me coming. We bump into each other as the lid of the cup pops off, and the cup falls to the floor, spilling hot coffee all over my front. The temperature isn’t too bad, but it’s still a shock to my system.
“Oh my God!” she exclaims, mortified.
I lean forward slightly to keep my wet dress shirt and coat from touching my skin.
“I’m so sorry!” She moves her hands like she’s going to brush off the brown liquid.
My hands encircle her wrists, stopping her. “No need to burn yourself.”
My Dream Girl may not be touching me willingly, but the contact is too much and not enough at the same time.
I need more.
