“And yet… you’re not,” he said, slipping his card into the book and holding it out for the server to grab on her way past.
I liked to pay a lot of the time.
I felt like it gave me a little more power.
When a man paid, they often thought of it as transactional. They bought the meal, so you owed them something.
When I paid, they didn’t get to have that entitled train of thought.
That said, I couldn’t deny that Brock insisting on paying twice was giving me the warm and tinglies.
“So… coffee?” I asked as we made our way out of the front door.
“I would never go back on my word when it comes to She’s Bean Around,” he agreed, placing a hand at my lower back, then sliding it to my hip, as we started down the very steep, somewhat slippery from the water, stairs.
Just a few minutes later, we were standing on a long line, listening to some song I remembered from years ago about people doing it like on theDiscovery Channelwhile the women behind the counter sang at the top of their lungs as they prepared drinks at lightning speed.
I employed the help of Brock to help me carry all the bags of coffee I was going to take home with me. Including all their regular blends and their flavored ones, inwardly wondering if they carried seasonal ones around holidays or not.
“Well, we know what your pretty-ass wants,” the woman said, looking Brock up and down in a way that was both appreciative, yet dismissive. “What can we getyourpretty ass?” she asked, looking at me. “Aside from almost every bag of coffee we have in the building.
“I know it’s rude to clear shelves, but I don’t live here, and I need all of this,” I told her as she rang them up and put them in canvas bags with their logo on them.
“Hey, we are never going to complain about making some extra money,” the woman, whose name tag said Jazzy, declared. “How about you order something snazzy, since you have all this regular stuff for home?” she suggested, waving up toward the latte section of the menu on the wall behind her.
After some hemming and hawing, I decided I had to go with the caramel Praline latte with an extra shot.
“Of course you want whipped cream on that, correct?” Jazzy asked, giving me a knowing smile.
“It seems almost wrong not to have it,” I agreed.
“I like her,” Jazzy told Brock.
“Me too,” he agreed.
It was a throwaway comment, damnit. He didn’t mean it the way my stupid little heart skip wanted him to mean it.
Unsurprisingly, Brock slipped cash across the counter before I could even reach for my wallet.
“Go wait at the pick-up,” he demanded, hip-checking me until I moved out of his way. “Normally, I’d say we can get a table, but the youths have descended upon the place,” he said, gesturing around to the young clientele that had occupied every single table.
“It’s hot in here anyway,” I said, shrugging. “I think I would enjoy this more in the cool air outside,” I told him, moving through the crowd and out the door. “Can we walk?” I asked, waving toward the street lined with storefronts.
“Yeah,” he agreed, but I didn’t miss the casual glance down at my feet.
Admittedly, they were killing me. But I’d be damned if he knew that. So I started walking as I waited for my coffee to get just a shade cooler than ‘the fires of hell’ before I took a sip.
Apparently, Brock was immune to third-degree mouth burns, because he chugged his coffee and tossed his cup before I could even fully tolerate the heat through the cup and the coffee collar around it.
“Are you going to try it or not?” Brock asked, shooting me a smirk.
Deciding it was probably drinkable, I leaned back against the brick of a closed office, took off the cap, took a deep breath to breathe in the scent, then took a long sip.
It was like all the best parts of fall and winter combined to have a party in your mouth.
There was no way to keep the primal groan of pleasure in as I closed my eyes and tipped my head back for a second, just enjoying it fully because I knew I would probably never have a first sip of anything quite as good as that coffee.
But then I sensed Brock moving closer, making my eyes slit open just in time to watch as his arm rose, and his thumb moved out to wipe down my nose where, I imagined, some whipped cream had accumulated.