AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I turn back to the kid behind the counter who boxes up the slice of desert. “Coffee?”
“Yeah, please.”
Just as I’m handing over my card, the door to the back swings open and the product of my wet dreams from last night pushes through the opening. Lilah steps out in skin-tight black leggings with a red flannel shirt tied around her waist, complimented by a ripped Jack Daniels tank top that exposes a large chunk of her smooth stomach.
Her eyes catch mine and I smirk at her when I’m caught checking her out. She rolls her eyes playfully at me.
“Morning, Princess.”
“Good morning, Ringer,” she takes over cashing me out, taking the coffee from the kid and putting a lid on top.
“You know, I’m supposed to tell you your money’s no good here, just like everywhere else.”
“But you aren’t going to?” I ask, handing her my card over the counter.
“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’ and slides my card quickly through the reader.
The kid has already moved on to the young family behind me, and somehow we end up being the last ones in line.
Lilah hands me back my card, and pushes the small red box across the counter.
“Baklava?” she asks.
“That’s a silly question, Princess,” I chuckle, grabbing the box and groaning at the warmth radiating on my palm through the thin material.
“That case has an internal warmer. Your mom used to say it was best served warm,” she says matter of fact.
“I have to eat it now then,” I deadpan, meeting her eyes across the counter.
She nods, using her chin to gesture to the tables in the corner.
“Grab a piece. Come sit with me. You know you want to,” I playfully suggest.
She turns and looks over each shoulder, no doubt weighing her options.
“Come on, fifteen minutes tops.”
“Fine. Let me grab a coffee, and I’ll meet you over there,” she replies.
I choose the small booth in the far corner and slide in. I take the plastic lid off my coffee and blow on the steaming liquid.
A red plastic fork and a stack of napkins land on the table in front of me before Lilah slides into the booth across from me.
Not waiting a second longer, I flip the top of the box open and dig my fork into the pastry. A loud groan rumbles up my throat as the nutty flavor explodes on my tongue. Nostalgia rips through me as I’m brought back to my childhood.
“Is this my mom’s recipe?” I ask Lilah with a frown.
I watch as her eyebrows dip and she worries her lip between her teeth as she nods. “Your dad and brother gave it to me. And I knew it was your favorite.” She shrugs, taking a small sip from her steaming mug. “I hope you don’t mind,” she adds softly.
I shake my head. “Of course I don’t mind. The kid said you make a batch every morning?”
She nods again. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
I finish off the last bit of the pastry and wipe my face from any flakes that could be left over while I wait for her answer. I have to lean forward to hear her as she speaks so quietly.
“It somehow made me feel closer to you.”
