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Chapter Two
- Suzanne -
My morning startedas it usually did on Fridays - with a mocha latte and a chocolate croissant at my favorite coffee shop on the ground floor of my apartment building. The coffee was good, and the tempting scent of freshly baked pastries filled my tiny studio apartment every morning except Wednesday when the baker had the day off.
“Thanks, Sabine.” I smiled at the barista as I took my drink and pastry from her and started to head toward the small table in the corner where I usually sat. I liked to watch people, and it gave me the best view of the shop. I watched customers come and go while I tried to guess what they’d order. I rarely got it right, but it occupied my mind when I needed a mental break from my work.
I lived the exciting life of a freelance content writer. Not glamorous, but I enjoyed the freedom of setting my schedule and I had a passion for writing. Four days a week, I started my daily grind at the coffee shop, where I spent two hours writing before heading back to my apartment.
When I tried to walk away from the counter, Sabine touched my arm. “Why don’t you take the table by the window this morning?”
I looked at my usual table in the corner. “Why? Is mine occupied?”
“No,” she smiled, nodding at an empty table by the door. “But it’s too far away from the gorgeous guy who’s on his third black coffee.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Or you could cover for me for ten minutes if you’re not interested.”
I laughed at her enthusiasm. “I’d get you fired. I like to drink it, but I have no idea how to make most of these drinks.” I took a sip of my coffee and tried to be nonchalant as I looked around the room. All the regulars were there, people I knew by their faces and a few I knew by name. Except, yes, Mr. Black Coffee. I took another sip and turned back to Sabine.
“I... uh... see what you mean,” I whispered back. Mr. Black Coffee was hot - leather jacket, dark goatee, muscled-shouldered hot. If I were anyone else, with someone else’s confidence, I wouldn’t have wasted a moment of time trying to get his attention.
But I wasn’t that girl. My timidity was one of my greatest regrets in life.
“I’ll just take my usual seat in the corner.” I grinned at her as I turned.Where I could admire Mr. Black Coffee from afar and dream about what it would be like to come home to that hunk of gorgeousness every night.
“Suit yourself,” she laughed.
I settled into my usual spot - a favorite because it had an outlet next to the table. I plugged in my laptop and sipped my coffee while I waited a few seconds for the Wi-Fi to automatically connect. The screen came to life, but I was in no hurry to dive into my work. Instead, I used the screen as a buffer. If I raised my cup and hid behind it, I could stare at Mr. Black Coffee and not look like I was ogling a hot man from across the room, even if that was exactly what I was doing. Sabine had said he was on his third black coffee. From my vantage point, he appeared to be in no hurry to do much of anything. While I watched, he stretched his denim-clad legs out in front of him and leaned back casually in his chair while he scrolled through his phone.
I watched him for a few minutes, then heaved a sigh. Men like him didn’t cross my path every day, but there was nothing to be gained by staring at him as if I hadn’t seen a male specimen in months. I shook my head to clear it of the spell I was under, but I had to take a second look when he stood up. And I stayed for a third and a fourth look as I, and every other female in the room, watched him and his tight jeans walk to the trash can where he disposed of his cup. Oddly, he didn’t use the one closest to where he sat, but he crossed the room to use the one next to the counter, just a few feet from where I sat. He paused for a second and checked his phone again. He was either afraid of missing his latest selfie comments or he had somewhere to be. He checked his watch as well. Why? Didn’t his phone have the time on it? Or maybe his watch was set wrong? Or maybe it was just a good excuse to lift his arm so we could all clearly see the way the sleeve of his jacket tightened around the muscles of his forearm? Forearms. God, I loved a good forearm.
Maybe hewasjust standing there to gain attention. Maybe he liked all eyes on him. Or maybe he was lingering on purpose, waiting for our eyes to meet and...
Shoot!Heat rushed to my face, and I gave him a quick, awkward smile before I smashed the power button on my laptop and bounced my leg up and down as I navigated to the screen I wanted. I thought he’d leave, irritated by the abundance of attention he was getting.
I was wrong.
“May I join you?”
Smooth. Hard. Silky. Deep. Was that voice even possible? Polished with a hint of a New York accent. As sexy as a 40s screen idol. He packed a lot of heat into five little words.
I hesitated, wanting to jump at his offer, because that’s what my body told me I really wanted to do. Say hello. Strike up a conversation. Maybe flirt with him a bit. We were in a completely safe place. I felt more secure in The Coffee Spot than I did in my apartment.
I looked up at him through my lashes, but he towered above me. My eyes lingered over the black t-shirt he wore stretched across a muscular chest. How could any man make such casual clothes look so elegant? And dear Lord, he smelled good.
“I’m sorry. Clearly, you’re busy. I’ll leave you alone.”
I was so busy drooling over him, I’d waited too long to answer, and Mr. Black Coffee turned to leave.
“No!” He stopped. “No. I mean, yes. I was busy, but... it’s just a work thing. Sit down, please.”
Too eager. Too eager. Stop it!
I kept my eyes trained on my laptop as he pulled out the chair across from me.
“Thank you. Sometimes it’s nice to have company.”
“You’re welcome. I... uhm... was there a problem with your seat?”
Oh, God, Suzanne. This is the price you pay for spending more time in libraries and bookstores than you do around other people.
