A note from the author:
This story is fast and hot--just like the scene.
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I close my laptop slowly. I've been rereading the same sentence for the last twenty minutes and just can't focus. My coffee isn't even cold yet--but it's hardly my fault. I haven't been able to focus ever since I caught the man behind the counter staring at me. We keep catching each other sneaking looks. He's entirely too gorgeous. I almost forgot my own name when he asked for the order. Green eyes, black hair, tanned skin that I just want to run my fingernails down... I cross my legs tightly under the table, imagining all the things I would let him do to me--all the things nobody has done to me since my last date, but we all know how that turned out. I bite my lip, lost in thought, and only come back to the present when I see a flash of white teeth -- oh great, now he's laughing at me. I flash him a smile in return and pretend to go back to my drink, look at my phone, check the time... anything to keep my eyes off him.
I'm hit with the scent of warm cologne and a hint of cinnamon as someone approaches my tables--is that his cologne? Or is it because he's been making so many cold weather drinks? I wait as long as possible before looking up, but it doesn't help. He's tall, and broad enough that the apron he's tied around his waist can't hide it. His stomach is flat, and covering biceps like that in a long sleeve shirt should be illegal. He covers his mouth in another little laugh, as if he feels awkward about approaching me, and when he turns away slightly -- sweet Jesus his ass just doesn't quit!
"How is everything?" He asks, his voice dripping down me like sex. I gaze up at him from my chair. He's standing close to me--close enough that I have to bend my head back to look at him.
"Really... good," I reply. I pick up my coffee and take a sip to add weight to my claim. He smiles again, pressing his lips together before his tongue darts out and wets the bottom one. Oh good god. I tighten my legs under the table, silently hoping the fabric of my shirt is thick enough that he can't see my nipples getting hard.
"Well, if you need anything, just let me know."
Anything?
"Okay," I call, breathless, as he walks away. He glances over his shoulder and smiles again, then checks in on the other table.
"I'm just going to be in the back for a few minutes doing some inventory," He tells the other customers. "If you need something, just call."
Do I imagine the way he looks back at me? Do I imagine the way his smile turns wicked and sensual? Do I imagine the way he winks when he puts the 'back in 15' sign on the counter?
Oh no... My breath is coming in unevenly. What on earth is happening? This is crazy. Obviously I'm imagining it all. I try to adjust my skirt, suddenly uncomfortable, but the damn thing keeps riding up--and my shirt is too warm, and is it hot in here? I exhale shakily, smoothing my hands down the front of my shirt. The other customers haven't even looked my way... but would they notice if I got up and left? I swallow, hard, but my throat is still dry. Water would help. Yes! Water! I need a glass of water!
I hop up from my table and approach the front. I stand there for a few seconds, debating what I should do next, and trying not to look suspicious to the cafe full of people behind me. My eyes fall on the 'be back in 15' sign and I lick my lips. I really could use some water... no, I need it. And he did say I could tell him if I needed anything, right? Right. And I need water.
It's darker in the back than I expected, and dingier too. It's not dirty... but it's definitely not the cute boho shop that the front is. I walk past boxes of cups and bags of coffee beans, my footsteps echoing.
"Hey." He appears from around a corner, smile in place.
"Hi--I wasn't sure if I could come back... I was just hoping for a glass of water."
His brows lift mischievously.
