“I thought he usually gets his coffee later in the day,” Miranda said.
“He does. Maybe he just couldn’t wait to get his fix,” I said, not referring to caffeine at all.
Timothy must have been really absorbed because he didn’t even notice us sitting there. Another café employee had taken on the register while Aaron worked the steamers and pulled shots of espresso. Once Aaron caught sight of Timothy waiting in line, he waved him over.
Timothy approached the pickup counter with a crooked smile. He ran a hand through his coiffed-up hair, as if he could make it any more perfect. Not only did Timothy have brains and amazing fashion sense, he carried the alluring confidence only a god could manage.
Per usual, Aaron shot him a dazzling, white-toothed grin that even I could see promised fun, adventurous sex. Timothy’s eyes actually smoldered, shooting back a quiet dark promise of his own.
They exchanged some words we couldn’t hear, but I’d seen it enough to know Aaron wouldn’t be the only one stuttering.
When he handed over Timothy’s drink, their hands touched.
Both Miranda and I shared a collective gasp, as if we were two fangirls vying for our favorite characters to get together on a popular tv show.
Their touch lingered, and I swear my heart almost started beating again. Then Timothy stepped back with his order, and Aaron returned to work.
“Woof,” I said, as it was the only emotionally appropriate word to carry the weight of tension we just witnessed.
“You can say that again,” Miranda said.
Timothy caught sight of us staring right at him. Knowing there was no escaping now, he walked over to join us. “Ladies.”
Miranda pulled out the empty chair between us while I gestured to it.
“Have a seat,” Miranda said.
“We insist,” I agreed.
With the cautious regard a rabbit would give a couple of foxes, Timothy sat down.
“When are you going to ask him out?” Miranda asked first.
“Oh, good one,” I said. “I was going to ask if I could be maid of honor, or best woman. Whatever works.”
“You can’t ask that,” Miranda shot back. “He might want me to fill that position. I’ve planned a ton of kid’s parties. I throw an excellent shower.”
“Ladies,” Timothy interrupted loudly, setting his cup on the table with a surprising clack despite being made of paper. “He has already asked me to dinner.”
Miranda and I had to suppress our squeals of excitement so Aaron wouldn’t overhear. Instead, they came out as unseemly snorts.
“Where are you going?”
“What are you going to wear?”
I wasn’t sure who asked what, but Miranda and I didn’t care as long as we got answers.
“I turned him down,” Timothy said, not meeting our gaze, before demurely sipping his soy half-caf whatever nonsense. As if he weren’t breaking three hearts instead of one.
“You what?” Miranda said in a tone dangerously close to that of a disapproving mom.
“Careful how you answer, she may ground you,” I warned. Then added, “or shoot you.”
Timothy pursed his lips. “What did you think I would say?” he asked, his words clipped and cold. “You know what I am. There would be no point.”
“Grim and I are making it work,” I pointed out.
“You are an immortal vampire. You have a blood bond with each other. While Aaron is human. He knows nothing about our world.”
