Nina nods, accepting this without question. “That’s sweet of you! What kind of work does he do?”
“Um.” I scramble. “Logistics. Marketing. Very boring.”
“Gotcha. Well, you picked a good time to visit.” She’s already moving on, bless her. “Even in the colder months, there’s stuff to do. We have an outdoor cinema that runs old movies. Oh, and this weekend is the pie contest! The whole town shows up. It’s basically an excuse to eat pie until you can’t move, and it’s amazing.”
“Sounds incredible,” I say, and I mean it.
I study the menu board on the wall behind her, a massive chalkboard covered in elegant handwriting. There are coffee drinks, teas, hot chocolate with approximately seventeen different flavor options.
“Large mocha,” I say. “A peanut butter cookie. And?—”
“Oh!” Nina interrupts, her eyes lighting up. “You definitely need to try our beignets. They’re famous. Everyone who visits in summer gets them. They’re basically the reason half our tourists come back.”
“Count me in,” I add.
“They’re life-changing,” Nina says seriously. “Trust me.”
She rings me up, and I pay, then head back to my table, already planning how I’m going to tackle all that food.
I’m still marveling at the café when I remember my other work that actually pays my bills. So I pull out my laptop from my backpack and set it up, opening the file for my current project. I have time to kill, as I’m not meeting the real estate agent for another two hours in front of the apartment to collect my keys.
I can get some more work on my illustration done. It’s half finished and absolutely filthy in the best way.
It’s part of my serialized webcomic, the thing I sell on Patreon to people who like their mythology with a heavy dose of romance and steam. The premise is simple: powerful Omega heroines meet gods and legends and proceed to turn every story on its head.
My current art is Norse mythology. Specifically, Loki.
The illustration shows Loki bound in shadows, his own magic turned against him. He’s shirtless, because obviously, all those ridiculous muscles on display. Dark hair falling into his eyes, that trademark smirk on his face even though he’s technically captured. And standing over him, one bare foot pressed to his chest, is my Omega heroine.
She’s curvy and fierce, wearing a dress that’s been torn strategically to show leg, the skirt fluttering around her thighs. Her arms are bound above her head with the same shadow magic, but somehow she’s the one in control. The angle makes it clear that she let him catch her. This is part of her plan.
And Loki knows it. That’s why he’s grinning.
It’s dramatic, sexy, and morally ambiguous, and my readers absolutely love it.
I’m working on the shading for Loki’s abs, which is more difficult than it should be because I keep getting distracted by making them too perfect, when Nina appears with my order.
“Here you go!” She sets down a massive mug of mocha, the top piled with whipped cream and a drizzle of chocolate. The peanut butter cookie is the size of a small plate. And the beignets are even more impressive in person, four perfect squares absolutely drowning in powdered sugar.
“This looks amazing,” I say.
“It is,” Nina confirms. “Enjoy! Let me know if you need anything else.”
She heads back to the counter to help another customer, and I close my laptop for now.
I pull out my phone instead, angling it to capture the perfect shot of my food. And in the background, just enough of the café to show how gorgeous the space is.
I snap a few photos, checking each one. The lighting is perfect, golden and warm. The composition is balanced. The food looks like something from a magazine.
Perfect.
I open Instagram and upload the best shot, typing out a caption:Found the best café I’ve ever been to. These treats are dangerous. Send help.
No mention of where I am. Can’t risk someone connecting the dots between my radio show, my pseudonym, this investigation, and me just visiting a café and sharing photos. But the pic is too good not to share.
Then I post it and set my phone down, finally taking a sip of my mocha.
Oh my God.
