AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The barista is a young man with an eyebrow piercing who recommends the drink of the day to me—a coconut latte—and I take the drink to one of the empty tables by the large windows. I pull out my laptop from my bag, open it, and try to let myself fall into the workflow I’ve been struggling with so much lately.
I have a job posting to update, some graphic tweaks for a client, and an email to send off to an old friend, but before I can focus on any of it, my eyes start to drift. I take a long sip of my drink, the warmth of it making me feel just a little more awake but still not quite enough. Maybe I need a cookie or a nice croissant to go with it.
I turn towards the counter, hoping to look over the large menu board posted above it, but just as I do, the bell rings above the door. Momentarily distracted, I turn to see the newcomer, and it feels like the entire world has stopped turning.
He's tall, at least 6'5, dressed in dark slacks and a white button-up shirt, with his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Like he's just slipped his suit jacket off after a long day. His hair is dark and immaculately cut and styled, a little long and brushed back from his face. It matches the sooty stubble on his square jaw, the darkness of him continuing with deep brown eyes. Full lips, tan skin, thick brows, and a lean-muscled body complete the picture. I can barely tear my eyes away from his corded, bare forearms, but when I do, I realize he's looking directly at me. Just as frozen in the moment as I am.
Something jolts through me. A spark. A zing. A tingle that goes all the way down my spine right between my legs. My body is screaming at me to walk towards him, to touch him, to feel him, but my brain is yelling just as loud to stay put. I've never felt anything like this before—this instant connection, this powerful draw towards another person.
What is wrong with me?
The man stares at me for a second longer, and then gives me a small smile before heading towards the counter. My heart beats out of my chest.
He orders his coffee, talking with the barista quietly enough that I can't hear the exact words, but his deep voice still permeates the space. Just as quickly as he appears, the man takes his drink and leaves, and it feels like all the air in the room leaves with him. I have the most bizarre desire to chase after him, to touch his skin and see just how strong this reaction really is.
"Oh my God."
I say the words out loud, not even thinking about the fact that anyone could have heard me, but a glance around tells me no one did. I'm the only customer in the cafe at the moment, and the barista is busy making another drink, completely oblivious to the meltdown I'm currently experiencing.
I feel warm all over. And suddenly, I know I'm blushing so hard that my cheeks are on fire. It's ridiculous. I don't even know the guy, and yet there's a strange ache in my belly. An urge. A longing. A want. What in the hell is wrong with me? I shake my head.
"I've just gotten too lonely. That's all."
Talking to myself is a bad sign, but there's no one else around, so it doesn't really matter. I can't let my life fall apart just because the first cute guy I saw happened to have a face I'd love to trace with my fingertips. I'm here in Cape May to find a job and get myself on my feet. So that's what I'm going to do.
My coconut latte tastes extra delicious, and when the barista brings over a plate with a croissant on it, I eat it gladly.
"You looked hungry." He laughs.
I am. I'm starving. But not for food. For a tall, dark stranger I may never see again.
2
DERRICK
After I see the goddess, the fucking angel sitting in my coffee shop, I keep my calm long enough to do what I came here for and get back out the door. I dump the coffee into the trashcan by the door and stalk to the back of Sage and Salt, leaning against the painted brick and fighting to unbutton the top button of my shirt so I can get a damned breath.
What in the hell just happened? I could feel the pull of her eyes from the second I crossed the threshold of the cafe, but as soon as I turned to meet her gaze, I felt fire shoot through my veins. She's gorgeous, her pale skin and golden curls a stark contrast to her blue eyes, which are a color I've never seen before. They're like the blue-green waters of the gulf, sparkling and clear. She was seated, but I could see enough of her to see she was perfectly soft and curvy.
I want to kiss her right now. I want to wrap my hands in her hair and taste her, claim her, fuck her right here against the wall. But instead, I force myself to stand perfectly still and not scare the hell out of her. Something inside of me just knows that she's mine, that she belongs to me.
But I also know that if I act on these wild compulsions, she'll run as fast as she can, and I'll never see her again. It doesn't help that I'm not exactly a frequent public figure around Cape May. I'm secretive and keep to myself as much as possible. I've never wanted to bring anyone into the fold of my life. Until now.
"Christ." I look around to make sure I'm alone behind the building before reaching down to adjust my hard-as-iron cock. I feel like a fool hiding behind my own fucking business, but I need a moment to collect myself or I’m going to throw the angel over my shoulder and take her home with me.
I've been here for just over ten years now, opening Sage and Salt after making my small fortune. When I was young and struggling, small coffee shops were my haven, a place where I could work in peace. Now that I'm living for myself and not for work, I crave that sense of haven again. So I spent some of that fortune to create it.
Sage and Salt is my thank-you to the community I grew up in, but I also take a significant amount of pride in the place. It's not often that I'm surprised by life anymore, not with the way I'm able to plan almost every moment of my existence. But this was not part of the plan. Not even close.
She's younger than my 40 years, that much is clear. And I've never seen her around before, despite the fact she looks comfortable at her window side table. Her clothes are casual, and her large backpack is filled with what looks like art supplies.
Art supplies?
Her fingers were tapping across the keyboard in a steady rhythm, her eyes focused and intent, and she had a half-empty cup of coffee on the table next to her.
Maybe she's a student.
But something tells me that isn't the case. The way she was sitting there, with her bag on the floor next to her and her laptop on the table, made her seem like a professional. It wasn't like she had set up a temporary work area. She had settled in, making herself right at home.
