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CHAPTER27
Sylvie followedLauren from an industrial kitchen, through a plastic curtain, and into a work-in-progress. Staring at the ceiling, and the massive light fixture made up of differently sized stove top espresso makers painted gold, Sylvie’s jaw dropped.
“Holy crap, that’s cool. How did you make that?” Carefully stepping over tools and stacks of materials, Sylvie moved to the front door to get another view of the stunning piece.
“A local artist made it from old cafeteras,” Lauren replied from behind the counter.
“I’ve never seen anything like this.” She looked away from the ceiling and at Lauren. “How can I get one in my house?”
“I’ll send you his info,” she replied with a chuckle. “He’ll be happy for the work. Coffee or wine?” She propped a hand on her curvy hip. “I also have water.”
“Coffee,” Sylvie replied without hesitation.
She’d given up on any hopes of sleeping during the Whitney. There was always next week. Although, part of her hoped that she wouldn’t be getting eight hours a night then either.
“Keep an open mind,” Lauren warned before opening a small fridge beneath the counter.
All Sylvie had to see was oat milk to realize she didn’t want to know what she was about to drink. While Lauren prepared something, Sylvie admired the counter.
“Did the artist make this too?” Sylvie ran her fingertips along the gleaming wood counter. The edge was carved with gorgeous swirling markings.
“No, my dad and I crafted it actually.” Lauren brought the espresso maker roaring to life. “It’s taken us forever. We were going to do a poured cement top, but that felt too cold.”
“Get outta here. You did not make this.” Sylvie crouched on her haunches to inspect the work more closely as the aroma of cafecito filled the room.
Lauren laughed as she steamed what passed for milk. “If you saw all the outtakes littering my parents’ backyard you’d believe me. It’s been a crazy amount of trial and error. We would’ve been better off hiring someone to do it, but I really wanted to make something, you know? The entire base is reclaimed wood. We figured the top would get too much wear and tear for such valuable material. The floor is reclaimed too.”
Sylvie’s eyes widened. “No way. You’re full of shit. There’s no way you did this.”
Lauren spooned condensed milk into two mismatched mugs. “It was kind of therapeutic.”
Narrowing her eyes, Sylvie searched for signs of deception. When she couldn’t find any, she decided she was impressed. And maybe a little turned on.
“Try this.” Lauren held out one of the mugs.
Sylvie peered at it like it might contain rat poison. “What is it?”
Lauren’s lips twitched. “You saw me make it, Sylvi-uh. Just try it without being a brat. Do you think you can manage that?”
Instead of smiling, Sylvie bit the inside of her bottom lip. “You try yours first.”
“What do you need? A cupbearer?” Lauren took a sip of her drink and then made a show of switching cups with Sylvie. “There, Your Highness.”
Trying to stick her chin out the way she imagined a royal would, Sylvie took the mug and tried the perversion Lauren passed off as a café con leche.
The moment the hot creation hit her tongue, Sylvie nearly moaned. The rich sweetness from the condensed milk blended with the thick and nutty oat milk to make a shockingly delicious latte.
“It’s good, isn’t it?”
Lauren’s voice brought Sylvie back to her body. The flavor of the most delicious thing she’d ever drank lingered on her tongue. She wanted to steal her recipe and run away with it. A hereditary condition, apparently.
“It’s fine,” she replied before quickly taking another sip without regard for scalded her mouth.
“Fine?” Lauren muttered into her mug. “Fine my ass. This shit is delicious.”
Sylvie hid her grin behind her mug.
“What’s that about?” Sylvie gestured toward a large cardboard sign acting as a coaster to a paint can. The sign advertised a box of something with next-day shipping available anywhere in the continental United States.
