Page 33 of Abdominal Snowman

“Okay then, no problem here. Let me know if that changes, or if there’s anything I can do to help make up for—”

“Thank you, sir, but it’s not necessary, really,” she insisted before saying her goodbyes to the host and hanging up. She slid it into her pockets and slinked up to the breakfast bar.

“So… thanks, I guess?” she said quietly as she slipped into a bar stool chair.

“For the coffee?” Soren asked, sliding hers across the bar. He sipped his, and she noticed there was no steam coming from his cup.

“For letting me stay,” she corrected, cheeks flushing. She reached out and pulled the mug closer, the warmth of it heating her palm.

“Of course,” he replied, waving away her statement. “Don’t thank me.” But his gaze didn’t meet her eyes.

She watched as he adjusted his grip on the mug, wrapping his whole hand around the cup instead of using the handle. He didn’t even blink. And for someone who hated hot stuff…

He lifted the mug to his lips and slurped the coffee up, but she saw no steam. Just creamy, smooth…

“Do you have cold coffee in that?” she questioned.

Soren paused mid sip. “Uhm… maybe?” he answered, unsure. “Depends on how much ridicule I’m going to receive for my answer.”

“Let me guess,” she began. “Iced coffee because you don’t—”

“Like hot stuff. Correct.”

“Why do you have a hot coffee machine then?” she asked like the journalist she was.

He cleared his throat. “My dad liked hot coffee. It was my parents’.”

Ten more questions hit Sage’s mind all at once, but she didn’t ask them. Something about the way Soren dropped his gaze or the curl of his lip before he smoothed it out.

“And you just assumed I wouldn’t want iced coffee?” she teased, letting the mystery of Soren the snowbeast remain. An abominable snowman.

He glanced up at her, frozen in place and uncertain how to answer. He looked as if she’d caught him doing something bad, and she chuckled. “You’re not in trouble, I’m just kidding.”

His expression eased, but he set his mug down and turned, leaving her alone at the counter. She stared at him as he walked away, and if her gaze happened to drop below the waist, it was purely accidental. Scientific, even. She was a reporter after all. A journalist who needed all the facts.

He pulled open the pantry and rustled around, bending at the waist to grab something below his reach. Why the man was wearing jeans at eight thirty in the morning, she had no idea, but suddenly she was very thankful.

Praise Levi.

You’re objectifying a man! Her subconscious sounded very disappointed.

Oh come on! He’s not even really a man, she argued.

Exactly! He’s not human.

Sage didn’t have an argument for that, but she shamelessly studied Soren anyway, subconscious be damned.

When he turned, he had a bag of coffee beans and a small jar of vanilla beans.

A smile tried to curl her lips, and she fought it as she called out, “Whatcha got there?”

“Come here and I’ll show you,” he answered with a smile. He faced the left counter, and his side profile was all sharp, smooth jaw.

She only hesitated for a half second before sliding out of the barstool and rounding the counter, her hot coffee forgotten on the bar.

A clatter filled the kitchen as she walked behind him and stopped at his right, curious. He was pouring coffee beans into a grinder.

“This is loud,” he warned, before capping the grinder and turning it on.