He gives me a knowing smirk. “See? Angelic as fuck.”
My brows draw together. “Pretty sure it’s blasphemous to say ‘angelic as fuck.’”
He barks out a laugh. “You can’t help yourself.”
Great. He thinks I’m some goody-goody prude who never lets loose. Which, these days, may be more accurate than I’d like. But when I was younger?
“One time in college, I ran a bake sale to cover for a friend’s weed business.”
His eyes go wide, then narrow before he teases me. “You? You little criminal. Tell me everything.”
“If we’re going to have this talk, I need coffee. Do you want some?”
“Yes, please.”
I move behind the counter and pour the dark brew into two disposable cups. I add cream to mine and leave his black, like he prefers. I put covers on them and add a muffin to a plate before sitting at a table. Jordan takes a seat across from me, and I slide both his coffee and the plate toward him.
“Thank you, G. I haven’t eaten since lunch. This is gonna hit the spot.”
“There’s plenty more if it’s not enough.”
He pops a bite between his lips with a groan, and chews. “Mmm, is this cranberry?”
“Yep. It’s one of the seasonal options I offer.”
“It’s fucking amazing.”
Warmth blooms in my chest at his praise. This is why I do it. This is why this place means so much to me.
He takes a sip, brow furrowing. “What’s in the coffee?”
“Gingerbread.”
He goes back for another sip. “You’d think I’d hate that, but it’s really good.”
“You’re not too manly for gingerbread?” I tease.
“No, I am. But for you, I make exceptions.”
I laugh. “Aren’t you glad I showed you what you’ve been missing?”
“You bet.”
“I should’ve given you pumpkin spice. That’s always a big hit. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Yeah, I actually had requests for it at the dispensary.”
“What, like pumpkin spice weed?”
He chuckles. “No. They were looking for edibles.”
“Why don’t you have them?”
“The companies I purchase from don’t make them.”
“Maybe you should learn how.”
He laughs. “Yeah, no, thanks. I can barely cook well enough to survive.”
