What is wrong with you?
A Paul Simon joke about his name?
Al stared at me for a second before he let out another genuine laugh. “Ha! That’s a good one. I love Paul Simon. That entire album is perfection.”
The knot in my stomach loosened slightly.
He didn’t think it was stupid; he thought it was funny!
“I think it’s perfection, too! I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
Al ran a hand along his horns, ruffling his cream-colored curls. “Not long at all.” He gestured to Brian. “Brian here was just giving me the rundown of their seasonal specialties, and I think I’m all set. Do you know what you’d like to order?”
I peeked around Al, giving Brian a little wave. “The usual please, Brian.”
I started digging around in my purse, searching for my wallet, but Al gently grabbed my arm.
“I’d like to treat if that’s okay? Have you eaten yet? What about a pastry or something?” He pointed to the blueberry muffins with a crumble top inside the pastry case. “I’ve been eyeing those muffins.”
“Oh, they’re to die for.”
Al turned to the barista. “And a large Americano and two blueberry muffins please, Brian.” He turned back to me and smiled. I couldn’t help but beam back up at him. “Why don’t you find us a table?”
So. Freaking. Charming.
“Okay,” I said with a nod and headed to my favorite table while Al paid for our order.
I took off my scarf and coat, draping them over the back of my chair while I waited for Al.
He was such a gentleman—gentle minotaur? In all my years of marriage, I don’t think Don had ever had me take a seat while he grabbed our drinks and food. Sometimes it was the little things that made the biggest impression.
Brian passed Al a tray with our drinks and muffins on it, which he dutifully carried over to me, his hooves clicking along the tile floor as he approached.
“For you, madame,” he said, passing me a muffin and my latte.
“Thank you so much.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He sat across from me and took a sip of his Americano. “Ah, sweet caffeine.”
I let out a little laugh. The picture of him with the tiny espresso cup made total sense—he was a fellow caffeine fiend.
“I managed to sneak in a cup before I got ready this morning. I needed it,” I admitted.
“You look beautiful, by the way.”
“Thank you,” I said shyly, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck. “You look just as handsome as your pictures.”
“Well, thank you. I like your sweater.”
I stretched my arms out over the table, showing off one of my favorite pieces of knitwear, and beaming with pride. “Thank you! I made it myself.”
“I remember from your profile. I’ve always been envious of people who can make things.”
“It isn’t too hard once you get the hang of it.”
He snorted, his wide, pink nostrils flaring and the ring between them wiggling slightly. “If we had more time, I’d say that you could teach me.”
His words settled like a heavy weight between us. Yes, we’d just met, but I liked him already.
