Page 39 of Coffee Break with the Billionaire

Silas leans in close enough for me to breathe in his Silas scent. “I can’t stand the stuff,” he admits in a low voice.

“How is that possible? You’re autumn personified.”

He gives a twist of a smile. “How do you figure?”

“Flannel.” I tug at his sleeve. “Constant flannel.” Today, he’s wearing a red Buffalo plaid shirt and even though I’m not a fan of the fabric, it looks unbelievably cozy with Silas wearing it.

He’s my boss. I shouldn’t be thinking that anything about him is cozy. Or good smelling.

“That’s all it takes to be the personification of a season?” he asks. “Because you look fall trendy today as well.”

This morning, I paired my black stove-pipe jeans with a rust-coloured long-sleeved cashmere T-shirt and a wide silver belt. “You have to be careful with this colour,” I say,plucking at the material. “Anything more of an orange shade, you end up looking like a pumpkin.”

“I doubt you could ever look like a pumpkin, Fenella.”

That is admiration in Silas’s eyes. I can tell.

“You two about finished here?” Leodie leans against the counter watching us with a questioning smile. “I’m waiting for the test run.”

I take a step back. I hadn’t realized I had been leaning toward Silas, like a tree preparing to fall.

“Favourite drink.” Silas’s cheeks are pink. “Not pumpkin spice latte.”

“Maybe you just haven’t been making it the right way,” I muse, elbowing him aside to check out the espresso maker, with the dual handles and steamers. “Shiny.”

“Silas’s pride and joy.”

Beside the machine is a drip coffee maker and a hot water tap for tea. Bottles of syrup and bags of beans line a shorter counter behind me.

There’s a distance of about five feet—plenty of room for three people to move around— and yet, I am standing very close to Silas.

Does he even realize he’s a distraction? “This isn’t my favourite, but it’s good.” Rifling through the collection of tea bags, I find a ginger and lemon blend as well as turmeric and add both bags to an inch of hot water. Then I steam oat milk until it’s frothy and add it to the cup and drizzle a healthy dose of honey and present it on a saucer to Silas.

While he gives a tentative sip, I start making a mochaccino with an extra shot of espresso and chocolate, with cinnamon and chocolate sprinkles. “I don’t know how you make the unicorn foam yet,” I tell Leodie as I hand her the mug.

“We’ll get you set up and then I’ll give you a lesson,” Leodie promises. She sips at the coffee. “This is good.” She hands it to Silas to try and they swap cups.

“So? How did my test run go?” I ask, trying not to sound needy. Because while I’ve never been a needy person, I really want to work here.

The possibility gives me more of a burst of energy than three lattes.

I’ve never had an everyday job, like a waitress or a sales clerk, or Maurizio in Monte Carlo, who sells yachts and other boats. I’ve modelled and… that’s about it.

Silas and Leodie have a conversation with just their eyes. “If you really want to, we can see how it goes today,” Silas finally says.

“I really want to.”

He shakes his head. “I have no idea why,” he mutters.

“It’ll be fun.I’mfun,” I promise with a big smile.

Silas opens his mouth like he’s about to reply, but closes it without saying anything.

I have a job.

I haven’t given much thought to the fact that I have zero work experience. But following Leodie around theshop for the first hour, I discover there is a lot I don’t know about dealing with customers.

Like the fact that you have to smile and bite your tongue when they order one cup of tea and two cups of warm water. Or a cup of water for their dog. And when you mess up an order and give them regular milk instead of oat in their frappuccino, you should expect them to come rushing back in to use the restroom fifteen minutes later.

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