Chapter 4
Lucas
Iseriously contemplated not coming into the coffee shop this morning. One too many moments had my heart pounding and my dick stirring yesterday, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it. But my hero complex wouldn’t let me skip seeing Jordan to make sure she was okay. I told myself that it’s in my job description to make sure she is safe.
It’s bullshit and I know it. But she does make the best mochas I’ve ever had, and it would be a crime not to continue my normal routine.
As I open the coffee shop door at exactly five-fourty AM, I see the last person I ever expected to see.
The teenager's eyes widen in horror as he pauses to look up from mopping the floor.
“Oh shit,” he mutters and takes two steps backwards. “Jordan!” he yells. “Help!”
Coward.
I follow his two steps backward with two steps forward. “What the fuck are you doing in here? Did you not remember what I told you yesterday?” I’m getting angrier by the second. I swear this kid has a death wish.
Jordan appears through a door in the back. “What’s up?” she asks the kid, not yet seeing me.
I speak first and Jordan’s head snaps my way. “What’s up, is that I told this kid to never come in here again and now he’s here… mopping the fucking floors.”
She takes a protective step in front of him, even though he’s almost a foot taller than her. “First, you have no right to tell him he can’t come in here. And second, he’s our new employee. So, you better get used to it because he’s not going anywhere, bucko,” she spits out.
My lips twitch at her outburst. It would be cute if the kid didn’t try to rob the place. But he did.
“This fucker commits a felony and now he has a job?” I scoff. “I hope your boss knows about this because it’s reprehensible,” I scold her.
“Hey man, I didn’t even take the money,” he argues, still standing behind Jordan.
“You didn’t take the money because I stopped you before you could,” I deadpan.
“Can you two please stop arguing like children,” Jordan interjects, her flared nostrils giving away her blatant annoyance. “Not that it's any of your business, Clark Kent.” She points to me. “But he’s not being rewarded. He has to scrape the gum off the bottom of the tables and chairs when he’s done mopping. And it was the manager's idea for him to work here to make up for what he did. Are you happy?”
“These suits really are high and mighty, aren’t they?” Kyle mutters to her.
She turns around with a finger pointing at his chest. “Don’t start with me, turd bird. I’m still fucking pissed about yesterday morning.”
The teenager takes a small step back because she may be small but she’s not playing games.
I like it.
I like it a fucking lot.
Kyle’s head bows slightly, and she puts her attention on me. “Are you going to order or leave? I don’t have time for either of your shit this morning.” Her gaze flicks from me to the kid.
I stare at him long and hard, trying to telepathically let him know if he does one wrong thing, that’s it for him. I think he gets the idea because his face is noticeably paler, and I catch the shiver that wracks his body.
Good. He needs to know he can’t mess with my barista.
I turn to her and do something I haven’t done in the two weeks that I’ve been coming in here. I smile. “I’ll be staying. A Mocha Choca Latte, like always… please,” I add. Because for the life of me, I don’t think I’ve said please once to her.
Her shoulders visibly relax, and she nods her head, going behind the counter to make my drink.
I slowly make my way to the front to pay, noticing that Kyle has disappeared. It’s probably for the best.
Today I take my time assessing Jordan. Her pastel pink hair is down in natural waves that fall to the tips of her breasts and she’s wearing a tight black crop top that shows an inch of midriff above her ripped boyfriend jeans. She’s paired the look with checkered Vans that match her hair and an array of gold rings that adorn her lithe fingers.
Is it my imagination, or is she wearing a touch more makeup than the usual mascara and gloss she normally wears?
