The curvy girl’s eyes are wide as she sits in the passenger seat, watching the world whiz past. We’re zooming down the highway to the location of our date, and the wind is whipping her chestnut hair and kissing her already rosy cheeks. It’s hard to keep my eyes on the road when I have such a beautiful girl within arm’s reach.
Okay, so maybe I’ve got it bad for her, but I know that already. None of what I said that first night was a lie because Libby draws me in like a magnet, and if I have my way, I’ll never let her go. I realize that it’s not the most ethical thing to do, especially because she and my brother just broke up, but the heart wants what it wants, and my heart has known what it wants since the first time I laid eyes on her. That’s why I’m putting so much effort into wooing her. In the span of a week, we’ve visited museums, art galleries, and five-star restaurants. I even skipped out on an investors’ meeting to take her to a wine tasting, and I never miss meetings.
Meanwhile, the innocent way she’s looking at me is only increasing my desire.
“So when are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she teases as I pull off the highway and onto a side street.
“It’s a surprise,” I reply, grinning.
“Oh, jeez.” Libby makes a funny face, twisting a curl on her finger. “I think I’ve had enough surprises this week to last a lifetime.”
“Don’t worry,” I assure her, putting my hand on her thigh as we head in the direction of a building I know oh-so-well. “This is a good kind of surprise, I promise.”
“Let’s hope so,” Libby laughs lightly. “Then again, you’ve already spoiled me enough, so maybe we ought to do something terrible just to balance things out.”
“Never,” I fire back easily. “I’m just treating you the way any woman of mine deserves to be treated.”
The buxom brunette falls silent, but I catch her blushing again out of the corner of my eye. Then, we ride the rest of the way in silence, my hand absently rubbing against her thigh, until finally we arrive in the parking lot of The Roastery. It’s an enormous concrete building in the industrial part of town, and there are only a few cars in the parking lot. It’s normally impossible to arrange a private visit, but when you’re one of their biggest clients, they’ll happily make an exception.
“You brought me to a factory?” Libby asks, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You know I was just joking about the doing something terrible, right?”
I growl with amusement. “Aren’t you funny? As a matter of fact, this isn’t just any factory. This is the roastery I source Third Rail’s coffee beans from.”
That gets her attention, and her face lights up as we cross the parking lot and head inside. As soon as we enter the lobby, the rich smell of coffee fills the air, and I can’t help but be a little amused as Libby breathes deeply with satisfaction. “Wow,” she exclaims, looking around like a kid in a candy store. “It’s wonderful.”
“And this place is ours to explore as long as we like,” I tell her, putting a hand on the small of her back as we head past the front desk. I nod at the receptionist and the security guards on the way; I know the Roastery well by now, and pretty much have free rein to come and go as I please. I haven’t really taken advantage of it though, up until today. This is a part of my life that I rarely show to others, where my business and my passions intersect. Something about Libby is different, though. She’s made her mistakes, and is ready to learn from them. That’s what makes her so captivating: the intriguing combination of naïveté mixed with the emotional growth of an innocent, giving girl.
We make our way from room to room, my hand never leaving Libby’s back as I point out the different areas: the sorting and processing room, with its enormous metal sieves, the giant roasting ovens, and the quality control area where the beans are inspected for deformities.
“So you really source all your beans from here?” Libby asks wonderingly as we come to a stop outside the roasting room.
I nod. “Third Rail only sells single-origin, organically-grown coffee. It’s what gives us an edge in the market.”
“So what are these mysterious single origins, may I ask?” she quips in a teasing tone.
“We source our beans from Peru and Indonesia, to name two locations,” I say seriously, “but those aren’t our claim to fame. Our specialty is Kona coffee, from Hawaii.”
“I love Kona,” Libby nods. “It’s really smooth and mild, making it easy to drink first thing in the morning. But I’m really impressed, Frisco. It’s amazing how invested you are in the nitty gritty of the coffee making process.”