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“Cream or sugar?” He shakes his head before we both focus on Mags. “Decided yet?”
She twists up her lips. “You’d think I’d never been here before.” We laugh and Geoff kisses her temple. “I’ll go with Sun’s Out, Buns Out—extra hollandaise—and lavender lemonade.”
I tap her selections, grab a numbered table tent and hand it to her after I input the number on the order. Geoff thrusts cash my way, but I wave him off.
“You guys don’t pay, so don’t pretend like you do.”
“Let me pay every once in a while,” Geoff protests.
“Not happening.”
He drops his hand and harrumphs. But as quickly as his grumpiness appears, it vanishes. A wicked smile kicks up one side of his mouth and I narrow my eyes at him. Before I discern his motives, he takes the wad of cash and shoves it in the tip jar. Mixes the bills with the others and makes a show of it.
No way to return the money now. Don’t know how much he had or how much was in the jar beforehand. Whatever. More to distribute among the staff later.
“Stubborn ass.”
He smiles in victory. “It’s one of my best traits.”
Mags and Geoff wander off in search of a table. Thank the heavens above they choose a table outside and away from my still-nameless guest. The one whose eyes are pointed right at me. And to be honest with myself, I don’t mind one bit.
Not sure if it is the golden glow of his irises or the black-framed glasses that have me rooted in place. Perhaps both. Don’t know what it is about glasses, but they always make a man sexier. Edgier. More sophisticated. And my favorite… a little nerdy.
I help Mandi at the counter until Sharon signals orders are ready.
“You good while I deliver these?”
Mandi waves me away. “I got this.”
I balance two plates on my left arm and hold another on my right. Near the front, I drop off one plate and collect the table tent. I do the same with the second. Then, I head for Mystery Man’s table in the far nook of the dining area.
“Your breakfast, sir.” I set the plate in front of him and watch as his jaw drops.
“Jesus.”
“Not quite, but I can get you there,” I joke with a wink.
Why the hell did I just say that?
He narrows his eyes then shakes his head before staring at the plate again. “How am I supposed to eat all this?”
Byall this, he means the largest breakfast plate in the house. The brawny regulars don’t even finish it—no one finishes it—but it amuses me to see people try.
I pat his shoulder. “I have faith.”
“Glad someone does.”
I spin away from him, ready to walk off, when a warm hand takes mine and tugs. I stop breathing.
“Can we meet later? When you aren’t working,” he says and my brows shoot up. “Not a date,” he adds quickly. “I was sent here to write an excerpt on Lake Lavender. An insider’s perspective would be wonderful.”
Meeting up with the guy I hooked up with once sounds like more. Like trouble. Like adate. Maybe I am reading too much into it. Exaggerating ideas. Overthinking. He is here for work, to publicize the town, nothing else. His story also means free publicity for Java and Teas Me.
No harm in giving him the inside scoop—and extra tidbits about the town’s beloved coffee café.
“Sounds like a non-date. Let me know before you leave and we can plan for later.”
He stares down at his plate. “May take time, but will do.”
