Thursday, September 1
(Kate)
What is it about coffee? It's the perfect beverage. It warms me, body and soul. And it makes me insanely happy. Even the thunderous bell doesn't faze me this morning. I've decided to make peace with it since I know it cannot be outsmarted or reasoned with. I tried a medium push on the door just to be sure. Still loud as hell.
It's early, and Romero offers me his usual salute. "Good morning, Kate," he says while I take my place at the end of the short line.
While I'm waiting, the guy who was working Tuesday walks out from the back room. And yeah, he's still astounding to look at. He doesn't see me yet, but I watch as he draws an apron over his head and haphazardly ties it in the back.
He looks older than I am, but I'm guessing he's a student since he works here. He's average height, lean, and wiry but looks strong as hell—I can see the contours of the muscles in his triceps and shoulders—and unassumingly confident. It's confidence that I'm guessing is rooted deep down, but that fails him on a fairly regular basis. I would also wager that no one notices when it wavers because he's so good at covering up his vulnerability with his likable personality. And it's not over-the-top, in-your-face likable. It's subtle. The kind of likable that lures you in and before you know it you've bought the ticket, boarded the bus, and are miles into the pleasant journey before you question where you're even going in the first place.
And luckily, this journey comes with spectacular scenery. His hair is messy like he's just rolled out of bed, and so dark brown it's almost black—just like the stubble on his face. And oh my God, his face. He has this baby face that you just know lets him get away with murder. Not that it's innocent, it's just a face that I'm positive no one could say no to. All that aside, the most striking thing about him are his eyes. They're light blue, aquamarine even. The fact that they're rimmed by these thick, long, black lashes makes them look so intense and deep you feel like you could fall right into them. Overall, he's just ridiculously good-looking.
He greets Romero with a deep, friendly, "Morning, Rome," and turns to help the next person in line, which—as dumb luck would have it—is me.
Silently, I throw out a Thank you, God. The man standing before me is a staggering specimen. Excellent work. Later, before looking up at those blue, blue eyes.
One side of his mouth turns up into a crooked smile. "Ahh, the expatriate returns." Up close his eyes are even brighter than I remember, and they twinkle. He could be all kinds of trouble for me. Good thing I'm just looking.
I smile in return, because I can't help it. "Expatriate?"
"Yeah, you're definitely not from around here."
Romero glances at us while he steams milk at the espresso machine. "Kate is from California." It comes out as five words again: CALL EE FOR NEE UH.
"Ahh, California. I was right; not from around here." Coffee God looks from me to Romero and back again before his eyes land on Romero. "Kate? You two are on a first name basis? Throw me a bone here Rome, how about an introduction, man?"
Romero laughs, and his shoulders bounce. "Keller Banks, this is Kate Sedgwick. Kate Sedgwick, this is Keller Banks." He looks to Keller. "And she likes the coffee black."
Keller smiles. "I recall that, Rome. She's in the club." He turns his attention to me and extends his hand. "It's nice to officially meet you, Katie."
I accept his hand. It's warm, and his fingertips are calloused where they meet the back of my hand. His grip is strong, but oddly gentle, inviting even. I don't want to let go, but I do. "Likewise, Keller. And it's just Kate."
He smiles his crooked smile and nods. "Large, black house blend?"
"Yup. Today's not the day to go breaking tradition—" My mind drifts to Clayton's ecstasy-inducing mocha macchiato. "—or testing theories." I'm hot enough just standing here looking at Keller Banks.
His eyebrows rise in question as he presses the lid on my coffee cup and hands it to me. "Testing theories?"
I shake my head as I hand him my money. "It's nothing." I bite my bottom lip trying to subdue the smile that wants badly to erupt.
The crooked smile returns to his face as if he can read my mind. "Let me know if I can assist you with testing any theories." He places his elbows on the counter and leans down, so we're eye to eye and drops his voice. "I can be extremely helpful." He slides my change across the counter.
My heart rate increases to a mad pounding in my chest. I hope it doesn't show as I drop the coins in the tip jar. God, it's like he knows there's some sort of hidden sexual reference, or maybe he's just this flirtatious with all girls. I raise my cup to him and smile. "I bet you can, Keller Banks. I bet you can. Have an outstanding day."
He doesn't take his eyes off me. He doesn't even blink. "Outstanding indeed. You too, Katie."
My insides are still buzzing as I walk outside. Holy hell, is it bad that I innocently walk in for a cup of coffee and walk out wondering what the guy behind the counter looks like naked? And how he is in bed? I take a deep breath. I even let him call me Katie.
Goddamn.