Page 2 of Blush Crush

“Cole,” I hiss, rushing out from behind the counter like that could stop him. “We’re closed.”

He gives me a grin that could probably get away with murder. Well, maybe not murder, but certainly something that blurs the lines of legality. “Yeah, but I’m not ‘regular people.’ I’m a loyal customer. A VIP. Practically a shareholder.”

“You own the building. That doesn’t mean you have free rein to the businesses within it,” I whisper back, glaring.

He leans an elbow on the counter anyway. “Great, so I’ll just take a chocolate croissant and whatever the daily special is. Make it pretty with one of those designs you do with the milk and shit.”

I blink at him. “Cole. There is a literal poetry slam happening.”

He glances over his shoulder as if just noticing the crowd for the first time. A student is performing a quiet, emotional piece.

Cole nods, completely unfazed. “Cute. Glad you’re letting the kids do their thing.” He flicks his chin at the stage, eyes narrowing on the microphone as a buzz rattles the speakers. “That sounds like shit. You might want to tighten the cock on the stand before it falls over.”

I stare at him, because surely I misheard that. “The what?”

“The cock. The little metal knob that holds the microphone in place.” He shrugs. “That’s what it’s called. And when it’s loose, it causes the microphone to vibrate against the stand.”

“Why would it be called that?” I ask in a low voice, somewhat baffled I’m indulging him with this explanation.

“Because men name everything after themselves.”

That sounds about right.

He smiles, proud of his useless tidbit, and entirely too amused with himself. I want to throw something at him.

Instead I fold my arms. “We. Are. Closed.”

“Yeah, but I’m hungry.” His grin widens. “And thirsty. And incredibly charming. How can you deny me?”

I open my mouth to argue again when a noise catches my attention, and my eyes connect with Wesley’s from across the room. There’s a small smile on his lips as he stares at me before returning his focus to the stage. I bite my lip to keep my smile from overtaking my face.

“Ohhh,” Cole murmurs, as if he’s realizing something. “So that’s what this is.”

“What?” I whisper sharply.

He tilts his head toward the stage where Wesley stands just beyond the light, listening to the poet with a thoughtful expression.

“You’re hot for Mr. Rogers.” Cole looks back at me, blue eyes shimmering. “Might want to wipe the corner of your mouth.” Heleans in closer as if to tell me a secret. “Think you’ve got a little drool.”

My entire soul leaves my body, a shiver unfurling down my spine from the warmth of his breath against my skin.

“I—what—no, I don’t.” My hand flies to my mouth anyway, horrified.

Behind me, Sadie snickers into her stack of tip money.

Cole straightens, still smiling that shit-eating grin of his. “Relax, doll. He’s a good-looking dude. You’re allowed to look.”

“I wasn’t looking,” I whisper fiercely, even though my face is blazing hot.

Cole lifts his eyebrows with ayeah rightexpression.

A couple of people in the audience turn, annoyed, and I frantically shoo him toward the back hallway.

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll get your stupid croissant. But you have to wait in the back.”

“Ooo, private service.” He winks. “Didn’t know we were at that level.”

“We are not at any level.”