Not this girl, though.
“That will be five dollars.”
My eyes snap from my wallet to hers. “Seriously? Five dollars?”
She plants a devious smirk on her face. “The man does talk. I’m only kidding. It’s three dollars.”
I narrow my eyes at the captivating woman and have the urge to call her a brat. But I know that wouldn’t go over well. Plus, I save that term for Pen.
I hand her a five-dollar bill, and when she hands me my change back, I stick the extra two dollars in the tip jar.
“Your name?”
I stare at her once more.
She tilts her head to the side and bites down on her bottom lip before saying, “For the coffee order…”
Oh.“Declan,” I tell her, finally speaking.
Her eyes flick from the cup and pen she’s holding to my eyes and then slowly move down to look at my neck tattoos and arm tattoos. Her expression remains neutral except for the slight furrow in her brows. When she finally makes eye contact with me, I’m not sure what to think. She doesn’t smile or say anything else, so I move down to the end of the counter to wait for my coffee.
My gaze slides to her one last time as I wait, and she’s staring at me now. Almost like she’s in a trance. I have no idea what’s going through her head, but it’s not the first time I’ve been stared at, and it won’t be the last. I have half a mind to stare back at her because she’s exactly my type, but I refrain from making an ass out of myself any more than I already have.Maybe the next time I come in, I’ll try to be a little less caveman and a little more human.
When the barista with a short pixie cut calls out my name, I grab my drink and head out the door without looking back.
I think some food and sleep would really do me some good.
And maybe a chat with Pen.
Chapter 3
Penny
Holy fucking shit balls.
I should have noticed right away from his tattoos, but I was sucked into the vortex of his yellow-green eyes and Viking-like stature.
Declan is Dec. My Dec.
Only, the man who just walked out the door is entirely different from the man who talks to me over text. If I didn’t have the tattoos to confirm my suspicions, I would have bet a million dollars that they weren’t thesame person.
The picture on his dating app doesn’t show just how massive a person he is. He has to be six foot four or six foot five, at least. He’s also a blonde. Think Jax Teller’s season two slicked-back hairstyle, which is longish but only so he can push it behind the ears, and that’s what Declan’s hair looks like. The scruff that lined his jaw was slightly darker than his sun-kissed hair, and when he spoke, the glint of a tongue piercing was visible in his mouth.
He’s easily the most ruggedly beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I never thought I would say that about someone his size, but I can’t deny how good-looking he is.
I’ve spent a lot of time looking at the photo he posted on his dating profile, and now that I’ve seen him face to face, I should have immediately known by the sunflower tattoo on his neck that he was my pen pal. But I was distracted by his gruff demeanor. My daughter would say that he has a “resting bitch face,” and you might think I’m joking but I’m not. She has zero filter.
I have so many questions, but the door chimes multiple times in a row, signaling the mid-day rush has begun, and my mind is pulled elsewhere. My other new hire, Sage, is learning the ropes today and doing exceptionally well behind the counter, making drinks. She doesn’t have the menu memorized like Wren did, but she’s worked at coffee shops before, too, and knows the basics.
I think I definitely made the right choice in hiring her and Wren.
I smile and give my customary greeting to the next customer, but my last thought before the person reaches the counter is, why in the hell is Declan here in Daybreak?
~ ~ ~
“Mommy, why don’t I have a daddy?”
Leave it to my four-year-old to shock me speechless. We’re in the car on the way back from my parents’ house in Carlsbad, and my brain has been on overdrive since this afternoon.
