Micah
Micah studied the “Help Wanted” sign in the window of the coffee shop as he rubbed the back of his sweaty neck. He hated the heat of summer as much as he hated looking for jobs. His stomach twisted, a sourness rising up his gullet at the thought of one more no from a potential employer. But he couldn’t go home without going inside to ask about the job opening.
Searching for jobs on foot in the mid-August heat made his white dress shirt cling damply to his back and drooping shoulders. His brown loafers pinched his long toes and his knees ached a bit from all the walking.
Walking he’d done for nothing.
He was never going to get a job.
All the false promises to call him and keep him on file played in his mind like a film reel. He sighed, running a palm over his buzzcut blond hair, his eyes downcast as he clutched a worn padfolio with copies of his resumé in his other hand.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. It wasn’t as fancy as some of the more high-end smartphones out there; he’d already busted the cheaply made screen, but he could check his email and use Google Maps on the thing. But if he didn’t find a job soon, he wouldn’t even be able to afford the mobile phone plan he had. Close to five o’clock. He’d submit one more application then he’d go home.
Micah shuffled forward, the bright red and white sign in the window tugging him through the door of the coffee shop with an invisible thread.
He had nothing to lose by applying. What was one more no on top of all the others? He took a deep breath and approached the counter, tucking his padfolio under an arm.
No one was standing at the register which was between the espresso machine and a glass pastry case. He considered just giving up and walking out, but he took a deep breath and a few steps to the left and craned his neck to see around the freestanding thick wood divider with shelves that separated the register and bar area from a kitchen area with a sink, a stove, dishwasher and shelves of dishware and supplies. Micah didn’t see anyone there either.
Beginning to lose his patience, and his nerve, Micah swung around. He scanned the front of the store and observed the smattering of people at tables.
He didn’t see anyone aside from obvious customers with drinks, food, laptops, and notebooks in front of them, so Micah took a few moments to survey the space. The golden light pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows and the coolness of the air conditioned coffee shop pulled a soft breath from Micah’s lungs and his tense shoulders dropped a fraction. He had dreaded coming inside, but now that he was here, he wanted to sit down and enjoy the bright and inviting space.
The stark white walls and polished concrete floors could have come off as cold and clinical. But the contrast of the honey-colored wood front counter, the vintage prints of early twentieth century ads on the walls, and the shelves filled with lush green house plants and succulents gave the shop soul and warmth. Micah wanted to pull up a chair and stay for a while.
If he hadn’t come in to apply for a job, Micah would have taken a load off and treated himself to an iced something-or-other at one of the vivid-colored tables or in one of the big, comfy sitting chairs arranged on a large rainbow-colored rag rug. The bright airy space accentuated by the brilliant colors energized Micah’s weary soul.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Can I get you something?” a low silky voice asked from behind him. The rumbling bass made tingles skip up Micah’s spine, and he turned, blinking at the man in front of him, his stomach twisting for a different reason.
Register Guy looked as sexy as he sounded. Beneath his black and white striped apron was a tall, toned body. Thick-rimmed black glasses couldn’t hide the unique hazel eyes that, combined with his smooth-looking sepia skin, made the man’s face striking.
Register Guy scanned Micah from head to toe, the perusal like a physical touch, radiating through Micah’s extremities. When their eyes met, Micah sucked in a breath, quickly looking away before slowly meeting Register Guy’s gaze again.
Micah had been attracted to many men before but none of them had made him nervous.
Tongue-tied.
Slightly hard in a public place.
Micah shifted his feet, mentally willing his junk to deflate. But then Register Guy smiled, and Micah forgot what he’d wanted to ask.
“Uh, I, uh,” Micah stammered.
Register Guy’s smile revealed a slight gap in the middle of otherwise perfectly straight and white teeth, and his full lips were framed by dimples that made Micah’s pulse race.
Register Guy crossed his arms and leaned a hip against the counter, waiting for Micah to complete his sentence.
That didn’t help.
The man’s arms weren’t ripped, but they filled out the rolled sleeves of his chambray shirt, stirring a heat in Micah’s gut that he hadn’t felt in months. Not since before he’d moved in with his ex and his son.
Fuck. His ex and son—Rhina and Caleb.
The whole reason he was out looking for a job in the first place.
Thinking of them was an effective boner killer, and the words that had escaped him earlier returned. Micah needed this job more than he needed to get laid.
Not that anyone would want a relationship with someone like him anyway.
He mirrored the man’s smile, attempting to look pleasant and relaxed. But his lips wavered as he thought about the information he’d have to disclose if he applied.
“I saw your sign in the window.” Micah motioned a thumb over his shoulder, his stomach flutters returning. “I was wondering what the position is and if it’s still open.”
Register Guy’s smile brightened. “Oh, yes. Of course, the barista job. Yeah, it’s still open. Are you interested in applying?” The man reached below the register then slid a clipboard with several sheets of paper clamped to it across the counter, tossing a pen on top. “You can apply now, and if it’s not too busy when you’re done, I can interview you on the spot.”
An on-the-spot interview?
Micah hadn’t had any interviews in the three weeks he’d been applying for jobs online and in person. His breath caught in his chest as he studied the clipboard and pen in front of him, hoping this would be the one yes that would change his life right now.
“That sounds great,” he said, picking up the clipboard. “Can I order a drink so I can sip while I fill this out?” Micah asked, tucking the items under his arm with his padfolio. He didn’t have a ton of money to spend on fancy coffee, but he’d had a rough day and it was scorching outside, so he figured he’d treat himself.
Register Guy grinned. “Of course. What can I get you?”
“Your biggest iced coffee with caramel syrup, mocha syrup, half and half, and whipped cream,” Micah said haltingly.
Register Guy’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What? I have a sweet tooth.” Micah frowned, his cheeks warming. People didn’t typically expect a guy like him, big and muscular with a buzzcut, to order sweet drinks.
Register Guy worked to keep a straight face, his lips quivering and his eyes sparkling. “No judgments. Just give me a second to make it, and I’ll bring it out to you,” he said as he grabbed a large plastic cup from the stack to his right.
Micah reached into his pocket. “How much for the drink?”
Register Guy waved him away. “It’s on the house. Go. Sit. Take a load off. It’ll be right up.” He winked at Micah before bouncing off to the espresso machine.
Micah made himself comfortable at one of the brightly-colored ceramic-top tables, admiring the way the primary colors coordinated with the dishware, then he focused on completing the application.
“Here you go, one large caramel-mocha iced coffee with cream and whip,” said Register Guy a few minutes later as he slid the drink onto the table.
Micah looked up and smiled, a jolt going through him when Register Guy returned the grin. But then Micah mentally reminded himself he was there to apply for a job, and if he somehow managed to land it, he couldn’t fool around with a coworker.
Needing a distraction, he grabbed his drink, stuck the straw in the domed cap, and sipped. He moaned when the sweet, creamy, cool liquid hit his tongue.
“Mmm, God that’s good.” He pulled off the plastic domed lid to get better access to the fluffy whipped cream and licked some off the top of the drink.
A sharp breath drew his eyes up to Register Guy’s parted lips and clenching hands.
Was Micah reading this right? Was Register Guy attracted to him too? But then the moment passed and Register Guy’s face went blank as he stuck out a hand.
“I’m Adrien, by the way. Adrien Darling.”
Micah set his drink on the table and clasped Adrien’s hand. It wasn’t much smaller than his, and Micah enjoyed the scrape of Adrien’s calluses against his palm. The sensation made him wonder how those hands would feel on other parts of his body.
His dick twitched at the thought, reminding Micah that he couldn’t get distracted.
“So, Darling. Like the family in Peter Pan?” Micah asked.
Adrien chuckled, his gravelly laugh rolling over Micah like a flash of sun cutting through cloudy skies. “Yes, exactly.” He continued to grip Micah’s palm, and a shiver ran up Micah’s arm at the contact, stirring his dick again and scrambling his brain.
What the hell had they been talking about?
Oh, right. Their names.
“I’m Micah Grayson. Nice to meet you, Adrien.”
“Nice to meet you too.” Adrien’s dimples made another appearance as he released Micah’s grip.
Micah’s palm itched to touch Adrien again but then he looked down at his partially completed application. He wasn’t there to flirt. He was there to get a job. Obviously, Adrien was a manager if he was willing to interview Micah on the spot. Micah resolved to put his attraction aside and get focused.
“Right. So, uh, I’ll let you get back to the application. Just bring it to the register when you’re done,” Adrien said before rocking back on his heels and walking away.
Micah nodded and grabbed his pen, but his little pep talk didn’t stop him from checking out Adrien’s ass as he walked back to the register.
Micah reached for his drink with his other hand, shaking his head at his wayward dick, and got back to work.
Minutes later, he pushed the empty cup away as he got to what he’d come to think of as the no section of applications—all the questions he had to check no on to get an interview.
Micah hesitated but couldn’t bring himself to lie about his history. He swallowed and selected the appropriate answers and added a few more details in the open-ended answer box, the drink he’d just guzzled down curdling in his belly.
Ten minutes later, he was done with the application. He’d filled out so many, the action had become rote. He just hoped this time would be the one time he’d get hired.
He pulled out a copy of his sparse resumé and slipped it under the application on the clipboard then made his way to the register after tossing his empty cup in the trash.
Micah savored the few hopeful moments between the possibility of getting the job and inevitable rejection. It would hurt even worse this time around coming from the handsome Adrien.
His chest tightened at the impending humiliation, the embarrassment that would flood him when Adrien’s eyes finally scanned the no section. But he kept moving toward the register, determined to try.
He needed to find a job so that he could start paying Rhina rent on the guesthouse she generously let him live in for free while he hunted for work. He also needed a way to continue financially supporting their son, Caleb. His savings account would be depleted in a matter of weeks, and he was starting to get desperate.
“Hey, Adrien? I finished the application and put my resumé underneath.” Micah slid the clipboard across the counter.
Adrien put down the large bags of coffee beans he’d been shoving into a cabinet behind the register and stood, picking up Micah’s application and resumé.
“Let’s have a look,” Adrien said, giving Micah a quick grin then pushing his glasses up his nose.
Micah’s stomach clenched again, and sweat dampened his hairline. He focused on the surface of the shiny counter, unable to watch as Adrien read over the application, bracing himself for the hard impact of the inevitable thanks, but no thanks.
“Do you have time for a quick interview? I just had another staff member start their shift.”
Wait—what? Micah snapped his head up, confused.
He’d mentally prepared for the sting of rejection. He hadn’t thought about what he’d do if he actually got an interview, let alone an interview on the spot.
Micah searched Adrien’s face for indications he was joking or offering a pity interview, but his eyes were earnest and open.
He did a mental fist pump. He’d gotten an interview! But he tried to keep the giddiness out of his voice. “Yes, I have time.”
Adrien nodded then turned to a young woman who’d joined him at the register.
“Hey, Antonia. Can you cover for me while I interview an applicant?” Adrien nodded toward Micah.
“Of course, boss.” Antonia nodded, making the curly hair piled on top of her head bounce. “I got things in hand here.” She pulled a striped apron off a hook on the wall and slipped it on.
Adrien came from behind the register area and gestured toward the fluffy chairs that had just been vacated, and Micah followed his lead.
“So, are you the manager?” Micah asked, settling down into the plush furniture.
“Yes, I’m the manager,” Adrien answered, folding one of his long legs over the other. “I’m also the owner.”
Micah’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s impressive. You seem young to own your own place.”
Adrien shrugged, but Micah could see the pride in his eyes. “I had some help from my family opening the shop.”
Micah nodded. He couldn’t imagine what that was like—having a family willing to help him open his own business. Not that he deserved their help, but even before he had fucked up massively, he’d known they weren’t willing to make sacrifices to help him. They’d barely acknowledged him at all growing up.
He wanted things to be different with his son, Caleb. As a father, Micah had made mistakes. Early on he had spent time with Caleb regularly. He had been very hands on when Caleb was an infant, then had kept him overnight a few times a week after he and Rhina had split, helping his son with homework and attending soccer games. They had been close. But then Micah’s bad choices caught up with him and he missed out on years of Caleb’s life. But Rhina had given him a second shot at making things right. He had a chance to be the kind of parent to Caleb he always wished he’d had growing up. He also wanted to be in a position to help his son when he needed it, like Adrien’s parents had helped him. That was why he needed this job.
“So, Micah tell me about your last job and how you might use that experience here,” Adrien asked as he flipped Micah’s application over to the blank back where he wrote down a few notes.
Micah took a deep breath to settle the butterflies in his stomach and prayed he wouldn’t bomb this interview. Landing this job would be the first step toward being the kind of parent Caleb really deserved.