Page 60 of The Moment I Knew

I jabbed at the pencil, finally snagging it—but he grabbed my wrist playfully at the same time, holding it between his hands. My arm brushed against his chest, and I froze. He didn’t move, just looked at me with those dark eyes, the kitchen suddenly quieter except for the hum of the espresso machine and our ragged breathing.

I tucked the pencil safely in my bag, cheeks burning, and glanced up at him. He was leaning casually against the counter, looking way too calm for someone who’d just spent the last two minutes tormenting me.

Our hands brushed, and the contact sent a jolt straight to my chest. I yanked lightly, but it still took him a minute to let go, like he wasn’t sure he really wanted to. “Thank you,” I said softly.

Cole’s fingers lingered for half a second too long before he finally let go. “You’re welcome,” he replied, voice just as quiet. Something unreadable flickered across his face before he straightened, clearing his throat and stepping back like he remembered where he was.

“Cole!”

We both jumped at the sharp voice cutting through the kitchen. His aunt stood near the register, arms crossed, eyebrows raised so high it was practically in her hairline.

“What exactly is going on back there?” she asked.

Cole shifted smoothly into work mode, resting his hands on the counter like he hadn’t just been tormenting me. “Customer service.”

I snorted before I could stop myself. His aunt’s gaze slid to me. Then to the Apple Pencil clutched in my hand. Then back to Cole. “Customer service involves stealing people’s stuff now?”

He shrugged. “Quality control.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Get back to work. And honey, behind the counter is employees only.”

I flushed. “Sorry.”

“I kidnapped her,” Cole said.

His aunt hid a smile despite herself. “Out. Both of you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. His aunt nodded and continued on her way. Once she was out of earshot, Cole leaned closer, so close that I could feel the faint warmth of him. “Come on. I’ll show you something.”

I blinked. “Show me… what?”

He gave me a grin that made my stomach twist. “A secret.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the main floor. “But you have to be quiet. My aunt’s got eyes like a hawk.”

I hesitated, glancing toward the counter where his aunt was busy serving customers. “Cole… I don’t know if I should⁠—”

He smirked and grabbed my hand before I could protest. “Trust me. Nobody will see us. Come on.”

Before I could argue further, he guided me behind the counter, ducking low so we wouldn’t be visible over the espresso machine. He moved with a confidence that made it seem like he’d done this a hundred times, even though sneaking someone into the kitchen seemed like the sort of thing you only did once.

“Stay close,” he whispered, nudging me toward the tiny doorway that led into the kitchen. I swallowed, my pulse hammering in my chest. The kitchen smelled like rich coffee and warm pastries, a heady mix that made my head spin.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I murmured, half-excited, half-panicked. “It’s… employees only.”

He chuckled, low and teasing. “Exactly. That’s what makes it fun.”

Once we were inside, he shut the door softly and leaned against the counter, watching me take in the small space. Stainless steel countertops gleamed, cups stacked neatly, and the espresso machine hissed and steamed in the background. I felt like I’d wandered into a secret world, one that wasn’t meant for customers—let alone me.

Suddenly Cole was standing in front of me, a smirk playing at his lips as he laid a black apron over my neck. I looked down at it, at The Corner Cup logo stitched on the corner, then back up at him. Confusion must have been blatantly written across my face because he just laughed. “There. Now you can be back here.”

“I don’t think wearing an apron makes me an employee.”

His eyes glittered with mischief. “Alright then.” He stepped back and led the way to the espresso machine.

“Okay, so first, you start with the espresso,” he said, grabbing the portafilter and filling it with freshly ground beans. His hands moved quickly but with deliberate care, scooping the perfect amount, then leveling it off. He held it out to me. “Here—watch closely. You want it tight, but not too tight. Otherwise, it’ll taste bitter.”

I leaned in, fascinated, even though every instinct screamed that I shouldn’t be in the kitchen. His body was just behind mine, and I could feel the warmth radiating off him, a constant, electric presence brushing against my back. “Wow… you make it look so easy,” I said, my voice quieter than I meant.

He shrugged, glancing at me over his shoulder, and I caught that flash of amusement in his dark eyes. “Years of practice,” he said lightly, but his gaze lingered just a second too long for it to be casual. “Next, steam the milk.”