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Devon at least has the sense not to respond. So, I do. “Don’t you have a class to get back to or something?” I deflect.
Stacy reaches behind her and grabs her backpack. “Subtle.” She takes a final pull on her straw, hooks the strap of her bag over her shoulder, and pulls me into a quick hug. She whispers, “Listen in the silence. Have you checked his socials?”
I squeeze her, warmed by her concern. “I got this.” It’s only been one day. But I’ve already seen him half naked. My hands have shamelessly roamed across his chest. We’ve kissed. Do I have this? I most certainly don’t.
I untangle from my sister, but she has the last word. She usually does. “Devon, do you like to dance?”
“Stacy!” I warn her and turn toward Devon, whose brows are pinched tight across his forehead.
“Like Ellen on Seinfeld,” he says, and I can’t tell whether he’s joking or not.
Stacy scoffs, “Figures.” She taps the watch on her wrist. “Tick tock, big sis. Tick tock.”
I give her a dismissive wave of my hand. Devon and I stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder, and watch her exit the café.
“What was that about?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I spin on my toes to face him and am struck once again by how attractive he is. This close, I take in the fresh scent of spearmint. “Just my bratty little sister being… well, a brat.”He glances over his shoulder, back toward the office, and I know he’s looking to clock in. “Thanks again for last night. You have no idea how much this is helping me.”
He steps closer, tips his head down. “I enjoyed it. I hope you feel the same way.” His eyes flit to the spot in the café where we shared our first kiss. “I was afraid future you would apologize.”
The thought had crossed my mind. Stacy roped him into this, and I acted like a horny seventeen-year-old, running my hands all over his body. “I just don’t want you to feel… if it’s too much… any of it.” I’m rambling. I want him to know the feelings I had last night are still here. Just being in his orbit makes me want to do things to him. I have no idea how he feels. “I don’t normally kiss men the first day I meet them. This is new… at least it is for me.” I hear the concern in my voice. What if this is what he does? Does he have women throwing themselves at him on a regular? His helpless dude-in-distress routine too tempting to resist.
He reaches out, his hand resting on my triceps. “Have you seen me? I’m the tripping, clueless barista. Not really a big draw with the ladies. The last thing I kissed was a tree in the park when I tripped.”
“Are you closing again tonight?” The question is out of my mouth before I’ve thought it through.
He shakes his head. “Mrs. Whitehead is doing the close tonight. She wants to work on some new recipe after hours.”
“Do you want to come over? To my place?” My pulse races with the thought of Devon and me alone at my apartment. “We still have a few outfits for you to try on.” My gaze skitters from his eyes to his chest and back up again. “I promise to keep my hands to myself.”
He tilts his head slightly as if assessing my offer. As if he’s fighting his instinct. “Sure.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “Under one condition.”
I hold my breath.
“Let me pick your brains during my breaks on café culture.”
I exhale. “Yes, of course. That I can do. I thought you were going to say something else.”
He gives me a smirk. “I can’t wait to find out what that is. Let me clock in and slip on my apron.”
With the mention of apron, I bounce on my toes. “Hold up. I got you something.” I step to my bag and dig into the outer pocket, pulling out the baby-blue tissue paper. “This is for you. For your apron.”
I place the trinket in the palm of his hand and bounce on my toes, waiting for him to see it. “What is it?”
“Open it, silly.”
I watch as his fingers unwrap the tissue paper. My heart races when his face contorts from curious to joyful. “Is this…”
“Just something to add a little pop of color for your apron.” As much as I love all things Coffee Loft, their mud-brown aprons have never been a favorite of mine. After last night, I could barely sleep. My mind kept racing back to that kiss. I woke at five this morning and needed something to occupy my mind. I designed three different trinkets for the aprons, settling on this one. The layered cloth, three-inch by three-inch pin is a broken cup and saucer.
Devon lifts the pin to his chest and chuckles. “It’s in recognition of your talent for breaking things.”
“I’ll treasure this every day I remain employed,” he jokes, and I’m reminded how tenuous his position is. He could be gone tomorrow.
“Which reminds me, we should exchange contact information. I can text you my address, and you can let me know when you’re headed over.” I pull my phone from my back pocket. “While we’re at it, I’ll shoot you my Instagram handle. It’s not as interesting as Stacy’s but if you don’t mind looking at swatches of materials and buttons, you might enjoy it.”
I hold the phone out, expecting to find Devon doing the same. His eyes are wide in panic. “Yes, let’s do that,” he starts, his arm extended toward me as he walks backwards. “I must clock in first. I’ll catch you on my break.”
