揘ope. What抯 ridiculous is you not knowing about it when a lowly barista did, Commander Coffee. Seems like a major intel failure.?I smile sweetly.
揘ow that I do, I wish I could un-know it.?
揃y the way, he appreciated his referral bonus. It helped his mom big-time.?
He nods, turning his gaze away like he抯 suddenly uncomfortable.
Ugh. Leave it to this lunk to turn into Captain Modesty when he does a good deed.
揑t抯 almost brewed,?I say a minute later, setting the pipe down on the tiny holder it came with. 揘ow we let it cool a few seconds for optimal taste.?
Cole laughs, brushing sand off his thigh. 揑抳e never met anyone as serious about coffee as you, and I grew up coffee royalty. You and Wayne spend a lot of time together??
揘ot really. Before I took this job, I bounced around a lot of coffee shops, studying their flavors and menus. I picked up a few shifts when Wayne was short on people, but nothing too official. We抎 talk about coffee whenever I went to Wired Cup, and we抳e hung out occasionally at charity events together...?
Is it bad that I like the jealousy gleaming in his eyes?
揟hat抯 a relief. You can do better than him,?Cole snaps. 揥hat the hell sort of boyfriend only shows up part-time??
I laugh. 揃ehave. Wayne isn抰 my boyfriend. He抯 not even my type.?
He turns his head, raking me with a slow, burning look.
揥hat, pray tell, is your type, Eliza??
Oh. My. God.
I ignore the question, but I抦 sure he finds his answer with the way I jerk away, staring intently at the brew pipe.
I touch the end to make sure it抯 cooled, then put the pipe end to my mouth and languidly sip half the shot. My head rolls back and I purse my lips like I抦 enjoying a fine cigar.
揗an, that抯 on point. I added a hint of macadamia nut to the roast.?I pass the pipe. 揟ry this.?
He tilts it in his fingers like he抯 holding an alien device.
揅areful. It抯 still hot. Go ahead, taste the nuts,?I urge.
揘o need. You are nuts, Eliza Angelo.?But he shuts up long enough to suck a long pull from the pipe.
The way his eyes ignite with stunned pleasure tells me he抯 about to swallow his pride.
揥ell??I venture.
揋ood. Surprisingly smooth. I never imagined I抎 enjoy sucking coffee through a damn crack pipe, however...?
揅offee pipe, you idiot,?I insist with a giggle.
揥hatever, badger.?He leans back on the sand, casually draping his arm around me.
My face heats.
At first, I make no effort to move, but then when I see he doesn抰 pull back like he抯 realizing his mistake, I scoot closer.
We sit there, sharing the stillness, alone except for the murmuring waves and my heartbeat drumming in my ears.
My boss has his arm around me.
My hot, unhinged, tightly wound boss who seems too smart to complicate our lives.
Even with the fresh caffeine hit, my brain keeps stuttering, trying to process what we抮e doing. His seductive, masculine scent doesn抰 help when it smells a thousand times better than the finest fresh-brewed coffee.
揧ou never answered my question,?he says. 揑f Wayne isn抰 your type, then why are you so serious about coffee? I thought for sure it was the barista抯 influence...?
揌onestly, I抦 not sure I have a type,?I lie. Because unfortunately, I do, and it抯 totally Cole Lancaster. 揘o time to date much.?
His jaw sets and he sighs. 揇amn shame. You抮e young and pretty and you have an annoying sense of humor. Men should be lined up at your door holding grudge matches to take you out梩hen again, are there still men in the age of Tinder? Can抰 imagine sending pickup lines over a screen.?
What the what? He thinks I抦 pretty?
My giddy heart vibrates like a plucked guitar string.
And I can抰 help but laugh. He抯 not that old, but his ideas about dating are hilariously old.
I抦 starting to believe his love life is more boring than mine.
揅ould be because I don抰 know that many people in Seattle,?I say carefully. 揑抳e lived there a few years, but it抯 harder to meet people as an adult.?
揑 get it. No time to pull yourself away from the bean.?
揜ight.?My face turns redder with every lie.
揧ou never told me why you抮e a coffee freak.?
I look over and he抯 so close, his face mere inches from mine.
Close enough to see the imperfections on a person抯 face, but Cole has zero. No scars, no lines, no deceit swirling in his eyes.
Just good, honest grumpy bossman who sometimes lets his storminess fade to distant thunder.
Seeing him this close renders me breathless. I think he takes my silence as hesitation.
He smiles warmly. 揘o judgment. If anyone should take coffee so seriously, it抯 me. I just can抰 muster the same spark. Not like you, so I抦 curious.?
揗y obsession actually started with a prank when I was seven...?I say slowly, unsure if I want to tell him this story. But he makes me weirdly comfortable when we抮e lounging like this.
揝even? You were already addicted as a first grader??
Laughing, I nod. 揘ot like you think, but...it抯 a sad story. My dad and I liked to prank each other all the time, so one day I emptied the sugar holder on the kitchen table and filled it with salt. My dad came home from work, started the coffee pot梬hich was strange because he usually only had his coffee in the morning梐nd slumped down at the table with a steaming cup. He put five heaping teaspoons of salt in his coffee and took a big drink棓
Cole snorts. 揑 suppose he didn抰 appreciate your early experiments.?
揌e burst into tears,?I say quietly.
The amusement on his face vanishes.
揟ears? He cried over a bad cup of coffee??
I glance down as the memory returns in vivid, painful detail.
That only brings the crown of my head closer to Cole抯 face. It抯 the most natural thing in the world when his lips brush my hair and he breathes me in.
I take a deep, halting breath, loving how his chest swells, relishing the moment before I hurry back to the story.
Neither of us should make more of this than it is.
We抮e just two people enjoying a splendid Hawaiian afternoon.
揟urns out, Dad got laid off from the job he had for twenty years before he came home that evening. My mom was a stay-at-home mother at the time. He was scared.?I lick my lips softly. 揑 guess some men tie their self-worth to their livelihoods, so losing the job was a huge deal. But I realized if I hadn抰 messed with his coffee...he might have held it together. He wouldn抰 have had a breakdown.?
I pause, tingling as Cole lays his chin softly over my hair.
揟here are lessons in pain,?he whispers knowingly. 揈specially the kind that抯 so innocent. You didn抰 mean to hurt him.?
揧eah梐nd that抯 how I learned how powerful a good cup of coffee can be. I knew it had to be when a bad cup could be so devastating. Oh, and when my mom came and sat down beside him, she picked up the cup, sipped it, and said 慣his is different. Like sea salt caramel without the caramel. I like it.?Crazy part is, she wasn抰 joking. So I also learned that people can have drastically different tastes.?
I look up into his sky-blue eyes, fixed on me now, bright and protective and safe.
揟he guilt ate at me, of course,?I continue. 揑 apologized until I was blue in the face, but the man just wanted a break梠ne tiny little break梐nd I had to shit up his coffee with salt. I had to make it up to him. I spent years trying to brew him the best cup of cheap drip coffee he抎 ever had. Like I could somehow make it good enough to forgive what I抎 done. To forgive myself, maybe.?
Cole chuckles softly, his big chest vibrating against me.
揑f that抯 the worst thing you ever did to your old man, I抦 sure he forgave you,?he says.
揌e did, but it抯 not the point. I made one of the worst days of his life worse. I saw how big the little things can get when you抮e already feeling crappy.?
揑 would have been damn lucky if my parents showed that much emotion, for what it抯 worth. They were stiff, no-nonsense people,?he says slowly, turning his attention back to the churning ocean. 揟hey didn抰 spend time with me the way I do with Dess. For them, my life was planned from the time I could walk, learning to take over what was then Noble Bean when the time came.?He sighs.