“Unique,” Thayne smoothly counters. “Each night you come in, they want you to have adifferentexperience, which mirrors-”
“What happens every time you have a cup of coffee,” I finish for him. “Sure, you have your basic coffee profile; however, depending on where the beans are from, what theytraveled with, where they sat pre utilization, how long they sat, how they were ground,whenthey were ground,whogrounded them, and of course what –if anything– you addtoit, will all ultimately effect your consumption journey; therefore making every cup-”
“Its own one-of-a-kind adventure.” One slow, tongue swipe of his lips is executed alongside his face craning closer to mine. “Exactly like bein’ with you, Gillybean.”
Blushing has me burying my face downward as well as my gaze.
Okay, I am soill-preparedto deal with this in the real world.
If this were one of my spy shows, I would let him know that I know he’s really a con man here to steal my top secret plans that allow me to monopolize the dental industry and that all this flattery is to distract me from his main mission, or if this were one of my telenovelas I would tell him I know that he’s love bombing me only to get close enough to his actual love interest which would be my brother, a man he’s had a crush on since they were seven and playing in his father’s rose garden.
But thisisn’tperfectly scripted plot twist binge bait.
It’s reality.
And in reality?
Men rarely pursue me for more than a peek at my exclusive patient list.
“Tonight’s dessert specials areaffogato al caffè,” he announces, his unexpected Italian accent intoxicatingly delectable, “and espresso chocolatesemifreddo.” Hazel eyes I’m ready to give up more than just my last name for casually cut over to my brown. “You know what those are?”
I wordlessly shake my head.
“Affogato al caffèis gonna be a scoop of vanilla gelato topped with espresso while espresso chocolatesemifreddoiskinda like ice cream too but has more a mousse texture with the espresso mixed into it.” Thayne presents another warm, inviting smile prior to inquiring, “Which one are ya thinkin’?”
“Either,” is attached to an innocent shoulder shrug. “I’m easy.”
An almost contemplative hum is accompanied by a slow nod. “Then pick.”
“You pick.”
“No,” he resumes his upright position, arm removing itself from where I was comfortable with it nestled, “you pick, Gillian.”
“But-”
“You say that ‘you’re easy’ so thatyoudon’t have to actually decide anything. Now, whether that’s fear of pickin’ ‘wrong’ or bein’ ‘bothersome’ or ‘unliked’, doesn’t matter to me.” His large palms rest together in his lap. “Whatmatters to me…is yourvoice. That you get a chance to beheard. That you get a chance to beseen.Thatyou seethatyou matterin anything and everything, even if it’s jus’ dessert.”
Discomfort over the notion pushes me to bite back, “Why don’tyour wantsmatter?”
“They do,” my date rebuts without reluctance. “And I always speak on ‘em. I alwaysacton ‘em.” Mirth takes prevalence in his tone. “Sometimes irresponsibly…”
Intrigue slightly tilts my face, silently insisting on details.
“Gettin’ ‘Death Before Decaf’ tatted on my back may have been more responsible than the goalie stick made out of coffee beans I got tatted on my foot, but neither were completely thought all the way through unlike the music notes on my arms, which represent my family since music has always kept us together no matter how far apart, we’ve been.”
Melting in place mindlessly occurs.
Cavitiesandcrowns,how does he basically turn me into a human milkshake?
And just to be clear, I don’t want all the boys to come to my yard.
Just him.
Only him.
Part of me wants to make that song reference out loud knowing there’s a high probability he’ll get it.
Appreciate it.
