His tongue, which assaulted my body only a few hours ago, rolls along the inside of his cheek.“Yeah.Worked up quite the appetite this morning.”He pats his stomach, but of course my horny eyes glide right past, down to the front of his jeans.
I rest my elbows on the counter.Thank goodness it’s separating us, otherwise, there’s no telling what I’d do.“Really?Been doing a lot of hammering?”I tease, keeping my voice low.
The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkles, and his lips twitch as he eases forward to whisper back.“Not as much as I’d like.”
I burst out laughing.How can I not?
The barnacles glance up from their mugs, brows raised as they cast wary looks between me and my new favorite customer.
Right.We should probably keep the innuendos to a minimum in case anyone overhears.
I snag a notepad from beneath the counter and click the top of the pen I keep in my apron, ready to take his order.
“You want a Reuben to go?”
“I’ll have it here, if that’s okay?”
It’s more than okay.It’s fantastic and wonderful and amazing.“Yeah, no problem.”I jot down the order and slip it through the window for our cook to add it to the other tickets hanging over the grill.Ethan waits by the picture of the lighthouse, his arms folded as he takes in the café.
Between Tilly and me, we make short work of the line.My mother comes in for her cup of decaf, but she breezes back out just as quickly on her way to the hairdresser for a blowout, saving me from having to introduce her to Ethan.
Him meeting Rick was bad enough.
Boone from the surf shop stops by, which is perfect because I still haven’t returned the wetsuit I rented for Ethan.He tells me there’s no rush, throws a five into the tip jar, then saunters over to the barnacles for a quick chat.
By the time Ethan’s order is up, the tables are full and there’s only Young Tom milling around, trying to decide between a club and a hot ham and cheese.Willow tells me she can handle him, and I love her even more.I do not feel like enduring his flirting or having to turn him down again.The poor man really needs to find someone new to pine over.
Before I bring out Ethan’s sandwich, I grab the bottle of hot sauce that I may or may not have purchased solely for my grumpiest customer.
When I hand Ethan his plate, he glances around the cafe with a furrowed brow.The only seat available is beside Mrs.McVittie and, unless he wants to talk about her whale mug and her visit to Alaska where she bought said whale mug, he’s outta luck.
Considering how cool yesterday was, it’s pretty nice today.Low humidity, only a slight breeze.One of those spring days that surprise you this close to summer.“Take this outside and I’ll meet you by the fence,” I say.
His lips purse, but he asks no questions as he weaves his way through the tables to the exit.I tell Willow I’ll be right back, then hurry through the kitchen to my office, stacking and dragging the two chairs out the back door and around to where Ethan studies our gutters with a little too much interest.
When he sees me lugging the chairs, he makes a grumpy sound in his throat that shouldn’t do it for me but does, and then sets his plate and mug right on the gravel to carry the chairs for me.
“Right there is good,” I tell him, indicating where he should put them.
He looks like a giant on a child’s chair when he sits down, and for some reason, it’s the cutest thing.He must’ve knocked my brain loose this morning.
Ethan grips his sandwich with both hands.
“Wait!I almost forgot I have a present for you,” I say.I whip the hot sauce from my back pocket and his whole face lights up.He practically throws his sandwich back on the plate, and then motions for the bottle, like I’m going to let him get his greasy fingers all over it.
With a roll of my eyes, I flip open the top piece of bread and twist the lid free, tilting the bottle so the red juice can dribble out.“Say when.”
He sits there with a smirk as I dump more and more onto his sandwich—the bottle is halfway gone—and then I decide enough is enough.
“It’s like you don’t even want to taste it,” I tease.The corned beef and Swiss cheese would be impossible to distinguish if your mouth were on fire.
“I think I’ve already proven that I enjoy tasting it.”
This man is dangerous when he’s inappropriate, as evidenced by the way my thighs press together automatically.My smile widens as I slip the hot sauce back into my pocket, and Ethan tucks into his sandwich.The man’s appreciative groan makes me think of some other sounds he made today, and I feel my face flush.
“It’s nice out here,” he says after a particularly large bite, trading what remains of his sandwich for his mug.
“I know.That’s why I want an outdoor space for days like today, when being inside feels like a crime against mother nature.”
