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She held the bean to her face, inhaling it in. For a second she closed her eyes. “It’s almost nutty,” she said, letting the aroma take over her senses.
“Now try it.”
“Try it?” She looked up at him, her voice full of questions.
He nodded. “Put it in your mouth.”
Nate stared at her intently as she opened her lips and pushed the bean onto her tongue.
“What can you taste?” he asked.
“It has an earthy flavor,” she said softly, her eyes still connected to his.
“What else?” His voice lowered. He’d moved close enough for her to hear his breath.
“It’s sweeter than I thought.”
“It’s not as strong as some of the darker roasts,” he said. “But it has more caffeine than they do.”
He held another bean out. “This one’s a medium roast from Ethiopia,” he told her. “Can you tell the difference between this and the last one?” he asked, placing it onto her palm.
She slipped it into her mouth, and closed her eyes. It was better that way. Less personal. Something about it being just the two of them was making her senses feel raw. As if he could see right through her and knew how attractive she thought he was.
“It’s not as oily,” she whispered, rolling the bean around her tongue. “And it has more pep to it. It almost tastes fruity.”
When she opened her eyes, she saw his lips curl up into a smile. “You’ve got a good palate,” he told her, nodding slowly. “Not everybody can tell the difference.”
She flushed at his approval. “You’re a good teacher. You make it seem easy.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then obviously thought better of it, turning around to grab a tiny glass cup from where they were stacked on the side. “Now, I’m going to show you how a good espresso should look.”
He turned and placed the cup on the machine, then pulled at the lever above until it came loose. “This is the porta filter,” he said, turning to show it to her. It’s where we put the coffee in.” He held it beneath another machine – this one full of beans. When he pressed a button it started grinding them, and coffee powder spilled into the filter.
She watched as he pressed it down with something he called a ‘temper’ before he put it back in the espresso machine. There was something about his easy competence that made her lean forward, her eyes glued to the movement of his hands as he fixed the porta filter back in.
He pressed a button and the water was forced through the filter, pushing out a deep colored coffee.
“You can’t leave an espresso standing for more than thirty seconds,” he told her, turning to place the cup in front of her. “That doesn’t give you much time to either serve it or make up whatever drink the customer has ordered. Speed is of the essence.”
“What happens if you leave it for longer?”
“You have to throw it away and start again.” He shrugged. “Believe me, we go through a lot. Can you see the three layers?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “It’s darker at the bottom. Then a little lighter, and at the top it’s almost white.”
“The top part is called the crema. If you get these three layers you know you’ve made a good espresso. If there’s no crema you try again.”
“You want to taste it?” he asked, his fingertips brushing hers.
She nodded, lifting the cup to her lips. She could feel the heat steaming up, as it misted the top of the glass. She blew at the surface before slowly tipping it up and letting the hot, black liquid coat her tongue.
Nate leaned his elbows on the counter, his face inches from hers. “What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s exquisite.”
His eyes caught hers again. It was crazy how often it was happening. Even crazier the way her heart hammered every time it did. Neither of them moved, blinked or even breathed. For a moment everything was still.
And then it was like a curtain had been pulled down. Nate pulled his gaze from hers and pushed himself away from the counter, taking her cup and rinsing it under the sink. “Okay, it’s your turn to make one,” he said, still looking away.
