Page 37 of His Kidnapped Irish Mafia Virgin

There was something about him. Not the kind of calm that made people uncomfortable. The kind that made him seem patient. He didn’t check his phone every second like most customers did, and he wasn’t tapping his fingers on the table as he waited for his order. He simply sat there, watching people walk past the window outside the café.

I brought his order over a minute later. “Here you are. One black coffee and one blueberry muffin. Please be careful with the plate because it’s still a little warm. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. It already smells better than the coffee I usually make for myself, so I think I made the right decision to come into this café this morning.”

I left him to enjoy his breakfast and went back to work. Another customer wanted the bill, a couple near the door asked for another pot of tea, and Mrs. Henderson managed to finish another three pages of the novel she’d been reading since winter.

Twenty minutes passed before I found myself walking past his table again with a coffee pot in my hand. “I’m topping up everyone’s coffee. Would you like a refill, or have you had enough already?”

He held his cup out slightly. “I would love another one, thank you. I have nowhere I need to be for another hour, so I might well enjoy the coffee while it’s still hot.”

As I poured the coffee, he looked around the café before his eyes settled on me again.

“You seem to know every customer who walks through that door. I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes and every customer who’s come into the café smiled at you like they were your friend. I suppose that only happens when someone has been working somewhere for quite a while.”

I smiled as I put the coffee pot back on my tray. “You recognize customers after a while. Most of our customers come into the café often enough that remembering them becomes part of the job. After a year you stop asking what they want from the menu because you already know before they sit down.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I imagine that also means customers notice when you disappear for a few days. It must be nice working somewhere customers actually miss you.”

“It is. I never realized how many customers paid attention until I came back to work after a break. Every customer has found a way to remind me that I was gone, and apparently I now owe half the city an apology for disappearing for a few weeks.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “I think that says more about you than it does about the customers. It’s not every day you find someone who remembers names, favorite drinks, and still manages to smile at strangers before nine in the morning.”

He stirred his coffee absentmindedly before speaking again. “Have you worked at this café for a long time? Is this one of those jobs people take while they’re trying to figure out what they really want to do? You seem a little comfortable for it to be temporary.”

“I’ve been working at the café for a year now, and I honestly enjoy it more than most people expect. After a while the regular customers start feeling less like customers and more like neighbors.”

The conversation still felt ordinary. If anything, he was easier to talk to than some of the other customers who came into the café. I wished him a good morning and turned to leave. As I reached the next table, I realized he hadn’t looked back down at his coffee. He was still watching me. When our eyes met again, he smiled politely before taking another sip of his coffee.

It was such a small thing that I immediately told myself I was reading too much into it. Still, I caught myself glancing back at him twice before I disappeared into the kitchen to collect another order.

The rest of the morning went by uneventfully. The man sat where he was, slowly finishing his cup of coffee while looking out the window every now and then. I noticed he was watching people walking down the street instead of looking at his phone like most people did. It was a bit unusual, but not enough to think much about it. Some people just liked to sit and think. By the time I walked by his table again, his cup was empty.

“Can I get you anything? Maybe another coffee or something to eat? Or are you ready for the bill?”

He pushed the empty cup away. “I think I’ve taken up your table long enough. The coffee was really good, the muffin was great, and the company was nice, so I would say the morning was well spent.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll bring your bill over in a minute.”

When I came back with the bill, he took his card out of his wallet and handed it to me.

“You know,” he said as I picked it up, “you have a face that makes people feel at ease. I think that’s part of why this place has many regular customers. People remember how someone makes them feel more than they remember the coffee.”

I smiled politely. “I think the coffee is better than I am.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

I let out a quiet laugh, the same one I always gave customers when I didn’t know how to respond to a compliment.

“Thank you for taking care of me this morning. It was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you, too. I hope you have a great day.”

“I’m sure I will.” He nodded politely before walking to the door.

I watched him leave. There was something about him that stuck in my mind, even though I couldn’t say why. He was polite, he hadn’t made a scene, and he wasn’t a difficult customer. But I had a weird feeling that I’d seen him before. I stood there for another minute, trying to remember where I’d seen his face.

“Earth to Nora,” someone said, waving her hand in front of me. “You’ve been staring at that door for a minute. Should I be upset that you seem more interested in a customer you just met than in me, your friend who you’ve worked with for years? What were you thinking about?”