Page 1 of My Small Town Silver Fox Billionaire

Chapter one

Sara

“Um, excuse me, can you please fix this?” comes the loud and impatient demand.

I fill up the final layer of froth for a customer’s latte, swirling it about to create a heart shape. As I put it down on top of the small plate, I walk over to the counter.

“Number 403! Your latte is rea—”

“Excuse me!”

I turn, looking over at the source of the sound. My heart races as my eyes get lost in the man before me. A frown sits, plastered to his face. His cobalt blue eyes narrow in disdain, and I walk over, flashing a smile.

“I’m so sorry. Our other barista took a break and—”

“That’s fine. I’m really not here for excuses. I’d just like my latte fixed,” he says, exasperation modeled in his response.

I glance down at it as puzzlement crosses on my face. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir, but what’s wrong with this latte?”

“You put sugar in it. Ispecificallyasked otherwise,” he mutters, looking away. My eyes catch a glimpse of the five o’clock shadow, along with his smoldering dark brown, almost black hair.

He’s incredibly attractive. Sure, we get some nice-looking customers, but how did I miss this one?

“I’m sorry about that. I think Bianca, our other barista, made this. She’s on break right now, but I can fix it for you.”

“I don’t have time for excuses,” he retorts, his voice as smooth as butter that would’ve had me melting if he wasn’t so curt. “I need this now. Can I take it to go?”

“But that’ll ruin the design—”

“I don’t care about some design. I need this now. I’m behind and have a meeting to get to in an hour.”

“Sure, I’ll take care of it,” I reply, flashing a weak smile. It’s the typical customer service smile I give when people are crotchety.

Clearly, this man woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Still, I’m not one to fault customers, so I head to the back, grabbing a to-go cup and preparing the latte once again. I add an extra espresso shot as a common courtesy. As I walk on over, I hand it back to him.

He takes a sip, and his brows furrow again.

“What’s wrong now?” I ask, biting my tongue to keep it from being sarcastic as it can be.

“This tastes bitter. Did you add something to it?”

“Just another shot and—”

“Yeah, well, I asked specifically for this latte, no sugar.”

“But I’m just trying to be nice—”

“I get the courtesy, but maybe you should follow instructions.”

The nerve of this man! Sure, he’s at least ten years older than me, but he could, you know, not be totally gruff. However, it does add to the appeal. He’s like one of those tall, dark, and handsomeguys. Except biting and cold, which may not be a winning combination.

Definitely a hottie. We do get some attractive men in here occasionally, but this guy. A total knockout. Too bad his personality was that of a man who hated his job more than anything else. I shouldn’t have these thoughts about customers, especially when they clearly have no intention of coming back anytime soon. Two more customers come in, and I take their orders. After making iced coffees for them I lean against the counter.

“Long day, Sara?”

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