The party we have to celebrate patching in Bullet and Lug Nut is a fucking blowout, so much so that I don’t drag my ass up to my apartment at the clubhouse to get some sleep until close to four a.m. But I still manage to pull myself out of bed the next morning and head over to the Golden Cup with my present for Sydney.

When I get to the coffee shop, she’s just serving an older lady with round glasses and silver hair holding a thick book. Sydney looks up as I come in and gives me a tiny smile of recognition as she rings up the lady’s coffee. I walk up to the counter, my hands behind my back.

Sydney looks a little tired again today, but it does nothing to make her any less gorgeous or sexy. She’s wearing a little pink tank top that brings out the fullness of her lips and the creaminess of her skin. I briefly contemplate taking her in the back for a repeat of yesterday, but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t agree to it with people in the shop.

“Morning, babe,” I growl. “You’re looking good enough to eat.”

I’m rewarded with a blush. “Is that my present?” she asks, nodding toward my back.

“It is,” I nod, and pull it out.

“A fire extinguisher!” she marvels, clapping her hands together. “You shouldn’t have!”

I laugh and go into the back to get to work installing the thing. I remove the old extinguisher from the wall, then install the new one in its place. The whole thing only takes me a couple minutes. While I’m working, Sydney comes back to join me.

“It’s just what I always wanted,” she smirks. “How did you know?”

“I know how to treat a woman right,” I tell her.

“You do,” she agrees. “Much more romantic than flowers or candy. But how do I know you’re not just trying to get me into bed?”

“I am trying to get you into bed,” I growl, and catch her by the waist. “Or at least back into the office.”

“Is that so?” she asks, a challenge in her voice.

“It sure as hell is.” I pull her toward me, a little roughly. She lifts her head and looks at me, her eyes wide, pupils large.

“And what if I say no?” she says a little breathlessly.

“Then I let you go,” I murmur, and dip my mouth toward hers. “But you won’t.”

My lips cover hers. Sydney moans into my mouth as her body melts into mine. I kiss her hungrily, my cock hardening. Her arms wind around my neck, heat growing between us. I push her against the counter, and my hands move down to cup her ass and pull her against me. She whimpers and arches toward me, angling her hips so that her softness is against my hardness.

“Fuck, Sydney,” I rasp. “Let’s take this in the back.”

“Hello?” an impatient voice calls out just then. “Can I get some service out here?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Sydney breaks away from me. “It’s kolache guy.”

“Oh, brother,” I mutter under my breath, remembering the old guy who’s never happy with anything.

Sydney slides down from the counter and adjusts her clothing. “I better go serve him,” she murmurs. She looks up at me conspiratorially. “I actually have kolaches today. He might just faint from surprise.”

She slips away from me, and I let her go. I finish screwing the extinguisher housing to the wall, making sure it’s secure — which has the added benefit of giving me time to calm the raging hard-on in my pants. I walk out into the shop just as Sydney is offering the old guy a kolache.

“They look close enough,” he’s saying skeptically, peering into the pastry case with a suspicious frown. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Behind him, the older lady with the round tortoise-shell glasses and the silver bob has come up for a refill. When she sees what he’s looking at, she opens her eyes wide.

“Oh, I haven’t had a kolache in years!” she exclaims. “Not since I was a girl growing up in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.”

“Would you two like to sample one?” Sydney offers graciously. I can’t help but smile at her charm offensive. It’s a smart move. Who can turn down a free pastry?

Sydney takes a kolache with cream cheese filling out of the case and cuts it in half. She places each half on a separate plate and slides them toward the man and the woman. The woman picks hers up first, and takes an experimental bite.

“Is it any good?” The man sniffs.

“It’s perfect,” the woman says with a satisfied smile. “Exactly the way it should taste. My goodness, that brings back memories.”

The man picks his half up and takes a taste. Sydney watches as he chews and swallows.

“I always say, a bakery isn’t worth much unless they have kolaches,” he tells the woman. He doesn’t remark one way or another on the pastry, but his voice softens just a touch. “I grew up near Columbus. Bakeries there — the real ones, not the high-falutin’ modern ones — have some of the best kolaches.” He pauses a beat. “This one’s pretty good,” he admits grudgingly.

“Thank you,” Sydney says soberly. “I’ll keep trying.”

The man orders a coffee and takes the plate with his half of the kolache over to the table where his friends are. Sydney refills the woman’s espresso drink and she goes back to her book. When they’re both taken care of, she turns to me and does a tiny fist-pump of victory.

“He liked it!” she exults. “I can’t believe he didn’t just spit it out like I was feeding him rat poison!”

“Good thing, too,” I grin. “That was a hell of a lot of effort you went through to win over one customer.”

“I can’t help it,” she smiles back. “Sometimes I just get an idea in my head and I can’t let go of it. I like a challenge.”

“So do I,” I murmur, moving just a little closer to her.

She cocks her head. “Are you calling me a challenge?”

“You do take a little more work than I’m used to.”

Her smile fades. “I didn’t ask you for anything, you know.”

“Hey.” I reach up and brush a strand of hair back from her face. “Joke.”

She relaxes just a little. “Okay.”

The bell to the door tinkles. I glance back to see a group of women coming into the cafe. “So, are you working all day today?”

“No, actually. Hailey has the day off from school today. Some sort of teacher in-service thing. So I’m done at three, and she’s going to close tonight.”

“Where do you live? I’ll pick you up at your place tonight around seven.”

“‘Do you happen to be free tonight, Sydney?’” she recites in a pointed tone. “‘If you are, I was wondering if you wanted to go do something.’”

“You’re free,” I growl, leaning in close enough that I can smell her shampoo. “What’s your address?”

“I should turn you down, you know.” Her breath hitches in her throat. “Just for being an ass.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” I reach down and slide my hand in between her skin and the waistband of her jeans. Keeping the thin fabric of her panties between us, I graze a finger softly against her clit. She gasps and shudders.

“Three twenty-seven Adams,” she whispers.

“Don’t dress up,” I say thickly. “You might not be wearing anything for long.”