Maybe I’ll test that warning he gave me after all.
The coffee shop is busier than usual.
So much for having the easier shift.
Normally, mornings are when all the interesting stuff happens, but there must be a conference or something in town because the foot traffic is heavier than usual.
The Gilded Bean is a posh, slightly pretentious coffee shop in the heart of the business district, mostly frequented by successful business types and the rich and famous who live nearby. It’s also just a few blocks from the boutique hotel where I work nights, so the location couldn’t be more convenient.
There’s never a shortage of gossip when the rich are involved. The pay is decent, the tips are better, and the people-watching?Excellent.Some days more than others.
It’s almost always the same customers coming in at specific times, the way-too-expensive-for-me coffee apparently a must in their daily routines, so when a day like today brings more unfamiliar faces than usual, it’s noticeable.
I grab a tray and cloth and step around the counter to clean the small round tables tucked into the corner. Heaven forbid Miss Louis Vuitton, who just walked in with her two perfectly polished clones, has to sit at a table with crumbs.
I load up on empty mugs and plates, then give the table a quick wipe. On my way to the back, I stop beside a guy sitting alone,wearing sunglasses and a ball cap that saysstudon the front of it, reading a newspaper.
“It’s especially bedazzling in here today, isn’t it?” I quip, gesturing to his sunglasses with a grin.
He startles and glances up at me from his newspaper, which I notice is dated from last week.
“Uh… yeah. A lot of shiny people here today.” He clears his throat, glancing around like he hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone. He reaches for the coat draped over the back of the chair beside him.
Wearing sunglasses inside, a quirky hat and reading an old newspaper… Yeah, something is not like the others here. Which is probably why I like him instantly.
“Can I get you anything else? Fresher news? A muffin to go with that hat?” I tease, letting my grin widen when I spot the faintest blush on the part of his cheeks not covered in stubble. Shame I can’t see his eyes because I’d bet money they’re gorgeous.
“Muffin? What…?” He blinks, clearly confused by my play on words.
Oh, bless. He’sadorablyclueless.
“Stud muffin,” I say, tapping the brim of his hat. “Your hat saysstud, and we sell muffins. If you want one, I could hook you up.”
I wink, then instantly blush.Did I just flirt?
Apparently, I did.
He clears his throat again and tugs at the collar of his black T-shirt as he stands.
“Um… no. Thank you. I was actually… uh… leaving.”
Nice going Kal. You’re scaring the cute guy away.
Clearly, I’m rusty in the pick-up line department.
My eyes follow him as he rises… and rises.
He’s tall.Reallytall.
And somehow, in this sea of roasted beans and steamed milk, I catch the scent of something dark and rich—like the brownies Grandma used to bake. It’s ridiculous to think I can place the smell in a crowded coffee shop, but Iknowit’s him.
In his haste to leave—or escape from me, honestly hard to say—he bumps the table and sends his untouched coffee flying. The mug tips, liquid spilling across the newspaper, drawing the disdainful glares of the nearby suit-clad regulars.
“Stupid, clumsy, fangy fool…” he mutters, low enough that I doubt anyone else hears it.
But I’m still watching him.
Fascinated. Amused.
