Page 3 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

He doesn’t get that.

“Coffee?” I ask.

Blond Business Guy smiles easily. The kind of polished smile that probably convinces people to sign contracts they don’t fully understand. “Please.”

I grab the first mug and pour.

Leather Jacket is watching me with amusement already, which is annoying because he hasn’t even spoken yet. He looks like he’s waiting for something entertaining to happen.

Which is rude.

Then, Mr. Blue Eyes speaks. “Black.”

I nod. “All our coffee is black.”

He lifts his mug slightly, looking at it like he’s considering his life choices.

“No,” he says. “I mean painfully black.”

I pause mid-pour and stare at him. “You want me to make it extra strong?”

Leather Jacket bursts out laughing. “Ooh, watch out, British women don’t take shit. Or so I heard.”

Blond Business Guy hides a grin behind his hand.

Mr. Painfully Black Coffee doesn’t smile.

He just watches me. Like I’ve done something mildly fascinating.

Which is worse than if he’d gotten irritated. That look says he’s trying to figure me out, and I don’t appreciate being treated like a crossword puzzle.

I finish pouring his coffee and nudge the mug toward him.

“There you go,” I say. “Emotionally traumatized coffee.”

Leather Jacket laughs again.

Blond Business Guy finally gives up pretending to be professional and grins openly now.

Mr. Blue Eyes wraps his fingers around the mug and takes a slow sip.

He nods once. “Acceptable.”

I narrow my eyes. “High praise.” I pull out my notepad. “Anything else?”

Blond Business Guy glances at the menu. Leather Jacket doesn’t even look at it.

“I’ll take whatever you recommend,” he says, nodding toward me.

I blink at him. “That’s a dangerous game.”

“I like danger.”

Mr. Blue Eyes doesn’t react to that. He’s still studying the menu intensely.

Eventually, they start ordering. Or at least, they try to.

Because Mr. Painfully Black Coffee apparently has a lot of opinions about diner food.