“Look here,” he said when he saw Jamie, his Québécois accent still as strong as ever. “It is my son all grown up.” He pulled Jamie into a hug, clapping his back with a big, warm hand. “I see you are still experimenting with this mustache?”
Jamie shoved Sharpie away, shaking his head even as he smiled. “Good to see you, old man.”
Sharpie grinned and joined the end of the line. “So, this is where the cool kids are getting their coffee these days?”
“Matty recommended it.”
“He is playing well,” Sharpie said, gazing up at the menu, which was neatly printed on chalkboards hanging from the ceiling. “All of you are.”
Jamie scoffed.
Sharpie turned to him, looking at Jamie in the same calculating way he always had. It was a look Jamie swore could see right through his skin. “We will deal with you later,” he said finally, returning his attention to the board. “What are you getting? Wait.” He held up a hand. “Let me guess. Hot chocolate with some fancy drizzle on top, yes?”
Jamie scowled, but didn’t argue.
There was a gap in the line, and Jamie’s breath hitched.
There, behind the counter, was Tyler.
Jamie had thought about him, caught himself imagining his competent, slender hands, his tattooed thighs, thatfucking throat…
And now he looked–fuck, he looked beautiful.
He wore a sheer black top that plunged down to his sternum. A cardigan sweater in a patchwork of colors hung from his shoulders. And then there, on his chest, the distinct round bumps of nipple piercings.
It hit him then, like hunger pains in the morning after a game–Tylerwas what he wanted.
The timing of it all was terrible. Inconvenient.
Butfuck. Just…Fuck.
Tyler was affectionate with his customers, reaching a hand out to brush a wrist, winking at a red-haired woman when he handed her her coffee. As they got closer to the counter, Jamie started to overhear their conversation.
“If you like a dark roast then I recommend the Midtown,” Tyler said to a younger woman in a denim jacket, leaning her elbows on the counter. “It’s got a real full-body flavor I think you’ll enjoy.”
Jamie’s jaw throbbed. He hadn’t realized he was clenching his teeth, and tried to force himself to relax. They’d reached the frontof the line, and his hands itched at his sides. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with them. Touch Tyler? Grab his hips and give his mouth something to do that wasn’t flirting with every single customer?
Calm the fuck down, Sully.
Tyler’s brows shot up when he saw Jamie. “Oh, hey,” he said, something uncertain in his voice.
“Hi.”
Beside him, Sharpie cleared his throat loudly and bumped him with his shoulder.
“This is Sharpie.” Jamie pointed his thumb at the man next to him. “Aaron. Aaron Sharpe. My captain. I mean, the last captain.” Jamie laughed then, the sound panicked and way too high-pitched to be natural.Jesus, man. “He’s the people’s captain.”
Sharpie stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
Tyler cleared his throat. “Nice to meet you,” he said quietly. “What can I get started for you guys?”
“Americano for me,” Sharpie said, going for his wallet.
“I’ll take a mocha,” Jamie said, feeling his face heat.
Tyler’s fingers flew over the tablet. “Do you want the seasonal crumble topping?”
“No, thank you.”
