“I’m being realistic.” Sam finished pulling the shot, the espresso streaming dark and precisely into the cup. “You just have to look at them and then look at me. Why would three guys who look like they walked out of a cologne ad all be interested in someone who works at a coffee shop and has to stand on a step stool to reach the top shelf?”
“Because you’re sweet, funny, and genuinely kind?” Maya grabbed themilk pitcher. “Because you remember everyone’s orders and always give Mrs. Channing extra foam without charging her? Because you’re adorable when you get flustered?”
Heat crept up Sam’s neck. “They don’t know any of that.”
“The suit guy – Mabon - he’s been watching you work for twenty minutes every time he comes in. Not looking at his phone or the other customers. You.”
Sam poured the espresso into a larger cup. “He’s probably just zoning out.”
“And Urien brought you vegetables. At dawn on a Saturday.”
“He gardens. He wanted to share.”
“Sam.” Maya set down the milk pitcher with a thunk. “Normal people do not show up at someone’s house at sunrise with heirloom tomatoes unless they’re courting them.”
“Courting.” Sam couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “What is this, the eighteenth century?”
“You know what I mean.” She moved closer, voice dropping. “They’re all trying to win you over. Different approaches, same goal. And Basil knows it, so he’s gone full psycho to protect his territory.”
Sam thought about the scratches on Rux’s chest. The bite marks on Mabon’s shoulder. The way Basil had drawn blood from Urien’s ankle without hesitation.
“Cats don’t work like that.”
“Cats are monsters who can sense when their human might actually be happy and decide to ruin it.” Maya grabbed three chocolate croissants from the display case. “Mrs. Patterson’s cat peed in her boyfriend’s shoes for three months straight. My sister’s cat knocked her date’s wine into his lap. Twice.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
Sam didn’t have an answer for that.
/~/~/~/~/
Sam stared at his bedroom ceiling, Basil a warm weight against his ribs. The cat purred, oblivious to the chaos he’d caused, while Sam’s brain replayed Maya’s words on an endless loop.
They’re all trying to win you over.
The gifts. Sam had written them off as friendship gestures from wealthy eccentrics who didn’t understand normal social boundaries. But what if Maya was right? What if none of that had been about friendship?
Rux had given him his phone number. Yes, he’d fled the café like Sam might bite him, but he’d written those digits on a receipt with shaking hands and told Sam to call.
Mabon watched him work. Sam had noticed and had assumed the man was simply zoning out or waiting for his drink, but now he pictured those sharp eyes tracking his movements, the way Mabon’s expression softened whenever Sam smiled at a customer.
And Urien. Gods, poor Urien. He had brought vegetables at dawn becausehe wanted Sam to have fresh produce from his garden.
Courting.The word felt archaic and ridiculous…and somehow exactly right.
Sam rolled onto his side, dislodging Basil, who meowed in protest before resettling against Sam’s stomach.
Were they interested? All three of them?
His pulse kicked up at the thought. Three men all wantinghim? It didn’t make sense.
And yet, when Sam thought about all the things they did, he could see they weren’t the actions of men trying to make casual friends in a new town. It could be argued that the whole situation was made up of actions from men who were interested in him, but had absolutely no idea how to show it.
Sam’s chest felt too tight. What would that mean, exactly? They wanted to date him? All three of them? The logistics alone made his head spin.Did they take turns? Schedule days? Fight over who got to…
He sat up abruptly, disturbing Basil again. The cat shot him an offended look before jumping off the bed entirely.
