“What can I get you?” He flashes me his dimples again. They’re carved deep into his warm olive skin, at odds with his angular superman-esque jawline. “A warming gingerbread chai? A rich zebra mocha? Either will go perfectly with the Danish you were eying.”
“Actually, I think I’ll go with a simple cappuccino,” I reply thoughtfully. “It’ll help balance out the orange zest.”
He crosses his arms, his bemused smile widening. “Oh, really?”
“Well, a straight black coffee would probably be better. The bitterness would offset the sweetness, but I only drink my coffee with milk…” I blow out a loud puff of air. “Sorry, I wasn’t telling you how to do your job. I study culinary arts. Flavor profiles are kinda my thing. Well, if you can call that a thing.”
He chuckles as he grabs a mug. “You know, I think you’re right. That does sound like a winning combination. I’ll remember that one to tell other customers.” He cups a hand next to his mouth like he’s sharing a secret. His warm aura makes me feel instantly comfortable, like being reunited with an old friend you haven’t seen for years. “This is only my second day.”
“I thought I hadn’t seen you in here before.”
“It seems quieter in here than yesterday.” He scratches his chin, taking pause before tamping the ground beans. “Which helps while I’m getting used to the menu.” He shudders. “Thatmilk steamer has been giving me nightmares, but I think I’ve got it down now.”
I laugh as he prepares my drink. There’s a dancer-like quality to the way he moves. His faded plaid shirt is rolled up to his elbows, showing off his defined arms as he works the steam wand.
“You should have plenty of time to practice this morning.” I struggle to keep the resentment out of my voice. “Everyone’s flocking to Bouncing Bunna to see the new celebrity on campus.”
He pours my drink then adds extra chocolate sprinkles on top. It’s way more than the standard amount, but just as I’m about to tell him that to help him out, he winks. “Pretty girls get extra.”
My cheeks heat, not sure if he’s flirting with me or just being nice.
“T-thanks.”
He arches one eyebrow. “I take it that you’re not a fan ofPack Fire, huh?”
“Something like that,” I reply vaguely. “Let’s just say I won’t be lining up to get Jagger Knight’s autograph any time soon.”
He laughs hard, clutching his stomach. “I’m sure that’d wound his ego.”
“His ego appears to be pretty big already,” I reply then shake my head. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I promise I’m not usually so snarky.”
“Hey, don’t worry. For what it’s worth, I totally agree. His ego is as big as a house.” I can’t tell whether he’s joking or not, but his smile is infectious. “I’m Tae, by the way.”
“Tae.” I let his name roll off my tongue. “I’ve never heard that before.”
“It means ‘greatness’ in Korean,” he states proudly. “My mom picked it. She moved to the U.S. years ago and met my father here. What’s your name?”
“Delilah,” I reply. “No special meaning behind it, I’m afraid. My parents just liked it.”
“Delilah,” he repeats my name. “Cute name. It suits you. Well,Delilah, this drink’s on the house.”
“Tae!” Behind him, one of the regular more surly baristas pops her head out from the back room. “We don’t give away drinks for free!”
“I’m not giving it away for free,” Tae chirps back, unperturbed by the outburst. “I’m paying for it.”
“Oh.” I don’t know where to look, so I pretend to be fascinated by the menu board. “That’s very kind, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you getting into trouble on your second day.”
He flicks his wrist. “It’s fine. I’m a pretty good barista. My latte art basically rivals a Picasso. Once, I made an accurate Sponge Bob portrait out of foam.”
I scoff. “Yeah, sure you did…”
“You wound me!” He puts a hand over his chest melodramatically. “Why don’t you let me show you that I can do more than make amazing drinks? Maybe somewhere away from here?”
“Uh…” I rock on my heels as he slides my drink over the counter.
Am I hearing right? This handsome beta barista who doesn’t likePack Fire, can create latte art, and smells like comfort is asking me on a date?
“Sorry,” he adds quickly. “Sometimes I get ahead of myself.” He rolls his eyes. “I can understand if a gorgeous omega like you doesn’t want to go on a date with a lowly beta like me.” His tone is humorous, but I sense some heaviness behind his words. Does he really think I’d say no to him purely because he’s a beta? Some omegas may judge based on presentation, but I certainly don’t fall into that category.
