“Sorry,” I said to him.
“He's never had coffee?” the guy asked.
“His parents were against sweets and caffeine.”
“What were they—Mormons?”
I laughed. “I think it's the Seventh-Day Adventists that don't drink caffeine.”
“Oh, is it?” The guy shrugged. “I'm a baker. Dough is my religion.”
“Hey, you know that stuff will rise.”
“Exactly, my friend! It is risen!”
Sylvie smacked him. “Get back in the kitchen before you offend someone.”
The guy grinned at me and headed toward the back, stopping to whisper to me, “And that's how you get out of doing the dishes.”
Laughing, I poured some sugar into Kaspian's cup and stirred. “There. Now, try it.”
“No.”
“Just try it. It's got sugar in it now. That will make it sweet. It'll taste more like that cookie.”
Kaspian grimaced but lifted the cup and took another sip. He blinked in surprise. “More of that, please.” He held the cup out. “The white granules. I like those.”
“Yeah, everyone does. It's why America has a problem with obesity.” I motioned at the steel table. “Put your cup down.”
After he set it down, I added more sugar and stirred. He sipped, grinned, and took the coffee back to the table.
“You're welcome,” I muttered as I added sugar to my cup.
“When they're that good-looking, you excuse a lot, eh?” Sylvie smirked at me.
“You have no idea.” I lifted my cup to her. “Thank you for the extra chocolate.”
“Enjoy!”
With our coffees, the sugar spread was complete and so amazing. I'd never done that before—bought a ton of pastries and just gorged with a buddy. Or a date. Was it a date? Kas said he wanted to have sex with me. No, it wasn't a date. That's dumb. I was seeing more there than there was. The poor guy was either crazy or trying to find his footing on an alien planet. I had to cut him some slack and stop lusting after him. That was wrong. So very wrong.
I looked up and found him watching me.
Kaspian reached over, swiped some cream from my lips, and licked his finger. All while holding my stare.
Yeah, all right. We were totally going to bone.
Chapter Seven
“More!” Kaspian declared.
We were in Portland. It was only an hour away from Salem, but Kas had made it seem like a few minutes. He wanted to learn about everything. The mountains in the distance, the outlet mall we passed, even the fucking cows. I was glad I'd ordered him decaf.
But now, we were walking around Portland, fitting in with the “keeping it weird” crowd. Kaspian's neck was set to swivel, his stare drawn to everything and everyone. He was particularly fascinated with hair—the wild colors, how they dyed them, and the strange styles. We had gone into nearly every store as well. And I'd just come off a job, so after an hour or so of this, my feet were dragging.
“I can't do much more,” I said. “Let's get some dinner. Spaghetti Factory has a great view of the water. You can watch the boats go by.”
“A factory is a place where goods are made, correct?” He narrowed his eyes at me.
