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Chapter One
“He’s here,” Dustin said with a grin as he stuck his head into her office.
Plum loved that her employees knew to give her a heads up when Gideon arrived. Gideon Davies. Or as he might prefer,FatherGideon Davies. A priest. A priest who came to her café. A café called Caffeinatrix.
Odd place for a priest to frequent and yet Father Gideon Davies had been coming to Caffeinatrix every Thursday morning for a late breakfast for a couple of years now.
And damn her to hell, but it was the most consistent highlight of Plum’s week.
Out of habit, she dusted her hands off on her apron even though she’d been working on the computer in the back and therefore didn’t have much in the way of flour on her hands. Probably.
Then she was striding to the counter, not at all fixing her hair, which was ridiculous since the rat’s nest on top of her head could not be fixed, and greeting one of her favorite customers with a big, fat smile.
Which was met with the most intense gaze that must have ever been gazed in a coffee shop. Was there a bluer blue in nature than Father Gideon’s eyes? If there was she hadn’t seen it. Not the sea and not the sky. If she were one of those people who named paint colors or nail polish, she’d call it damnation blue.
“Good morning and welcome to Caffeinatrix. What can I get you?”
It would be one of three things: a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit; an almond croissant; or an everything bagel with lox, cream cheese, tomato, capers, and red onion. She could guess with 90 percent certainty what is was going to be on any given visit, and this morning she was calling the bagel.
As per usual, she tucked her hand behind her back to show Dustin three fingers so he could serve as witness. Three was code for the bagel. Because of course they had a code for what the hot priest was going to have for breakfast.
Father Gideon blinked and she felt a blush creep up at her collar. It wasn’t polite to poke fun at customers, she knew, but on the other hand…the guy had to have a cross up his butt or something because he was—without fail—the most staid and humorless person to come in here. Hey, she had to get her kicks somehow.
Plum loved owning her own business, loved being on the outskirts of Clover City on a pretty boulevard with wide sidewalks and lots of passersby, and a proud column of American Elms marching down the median. She loved the little shop she’d built from scratch with all its mismatched furniture and its cozy feel, and how she had regulars, some of whom had mugs that hung on the rack over her head. But it wasn’t always easy.
She had a lot to balance—inventory, regulars’ orders, keeping good staff and getting rid of the worst ones, deciding which good causes to donate to, and all the usual customer service issues.
So yeah, the handsome-as-the-devil-himself stodgy-ass English priest was one of her private pleasures. Very private. Like maybe she’d gotten herself off after her alarm went off at three this morning thinking about Father Gideon finally getting fed up with her antics and bending her over the counter to administer a very stern spanking, and then fucking her afterward while pulling on her hair or collaring her throat with one of his big hands, his cut hipbones digging into her backside as he fucked her from behind. Hard.
Too bad he was a goddamn priest.
Not that she knew much about religion but that was something everyone knew—priests were supposed to be celibate. And she bet Gideon was one of the good ones.
Plum looked up at the tall man—taller than her even when she was wearing her stacked heels—his crisp blue eyes still boring into her and making her feel self-conscious, and his gorgeous black hair she bet felt like silk that always seemed to hold a wave just so. It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair that he walked in here with his slim-fitting black shirt that showed off his broad shoulders and thick arms, and matching black pants that highlighted his trim waist, thick thighs, and that ass. That high, tight, round, but not too showy ass. The man had been blessed.
“Everything bagel, toasted, with plain cream cheese, lox, sliced tomato, a few slivers of red onion, and capers if you’ve got them.”
If she had them. Pfft. She hadn’t the first time he’d asked but they’d carried them ever since. She didn’t know if anyone else ever asked for goddamn capers, but Gideon Davies did and so yes, they had some.
“Is that all?” she asked, punching his order into the screen, knowing full well that wasnotall.
“Ah, no. I’ll also have a flat white, please.”
It was a miracle she’d kept her fingers from keying in the order before he’d said it out loud. Did he think she didn’t remember? Knowing regulars and what they liked was part of her job. Plum was damn good at her job. But she was also used to people underestimating her and saying offhanded things about people who were “just” baristas, or “just” worked in coffee shops.
Those people could try explaining the difference between a flat white and a cappuccino and a latte, and how to make all of them efficiently while there was a line of fifteen people waiting, and when they failed they could get fucked.
She gave the priest his total and he handed her a credit card as per usual and she ran it before handing it back to him. He at least always left a tip in cash which was nice, and he nodded crisply when she told him, “We’ll bring it out to you as soon as it’s ready.”
Which was when her real favorite part of this ritual would begin.
