Page 2 of After Midnight

“Whatever,” was all I could think to say in response, but accompanied it with a roll of my eyes.

Jeanette moved from the front and past the counter to the back room where she could place her belongings and tighten her apron. The back of the café consisted of a bathroom and a break area furnished with my P&L statement on a whiteboard which I hung on one of the white walls, a portable refrigerator and a small, circular wooden table and chairs set for the staff to rest. If I had any additional staff. After a moment, she tied her pretty, light brown hair up and returned to the front, wearing her red apron embroiled with the café’s logo and assumed her place beside me behind the counter to help with the morning rush.

I loved my life as the owner and operator, but in those few moments of quiet I find during the day, I admit it’s hard. I find myself working harder than I ever thought I could work, and it has cost me in many lost hours of sleep and relationships. But, this is my dream, and to make it a reality requires sacrifice. Being the head bitch in charge sometimes means losing out on a lot of things in the beginning, since this is not a fast track to fame and fortune. This is my lifestyle, and one I’m willing to fight for.

Jeanette gets me, and understands my vision. To save on labor costs, I handle the opening and mornings, and she assists me through the mid-mornings into the evenings, covering school hours. She normally leaves me at night so she can return home to her family in time to prepare dinner and share in her children’s recollection of their day. It’s all very sweet, and admirable, and one day it’s something I could see for myself. Today, however, is not that day. I would need to take on additional staff, and the income I generate from my small, quaint café in the middle of the quiet town of Arley doesn’t support the added expense for the time being.

These and other thoughts rolled around in my head as I watched my pretty with girl-next-door-looks friend move throughout our morning together, and through the lunch rush. The lunch rush consisted of equal parts, serving and blocking men’s attempts at gaining my favor, which Jeanette shared in to her delight. She’d turned it into a game we’d play throughout the course of the day. We’d wager on how many pick-up lines I’d receive during the course of the day, and who came up with the most fun way to shoot the guys down while remaining customer friendly. Around four, before Jeanette had to leave for the day and the dinner rush, we’d tally the total and declare the winner.

“Damn it,” Jeanette exclaimed. “Looks like you won.”

“Yup,” I answered with a smile. I’d successfully blocked nine attempts during the day to her four. For Steve, we declared it a tie since it took both of us to get him in his pick-up truck. “Dinner’s on you.”

“Dinner?” The question came from the most fuckable voice I’d ever heard in my life. It was pure sex on a stick.

#

ISPUN ON MY HEELSand came face to face with the owner. This man was incredible. He was tall, with a thin goatee circling full, kissable lips. His skin was tawny, like the orange-brown light of the sun when it sets over the sea. With dark brown eyes to get lost in, black wavy hair and a massive set of arms and chest hidden behind a black hoodie with a graphic of a single red rose, I became aware of how warm I was. At least, until his gaze broke from mine and moved to my chest.Great,I thought.The hottest man I’ve ever seen walks into my bakery and immediately looks at my boobs. Another asshole.

“My eyes are up here, buddy,” I demanded, put off by the disrespect he dared show me inmyestablishment.

“But, your name tag is down there,” he said and pointed to the spot on my chest where his gaze was a second earlier. “Dream,” he concluded.

Shit.

“Yeah, well,” I stammered, trying to regain some sense of control. “Don’t try using my name in a pick-up line. I’ve heard them all and I doubt yours would have any originality.”

“Dream!” I heard Jeanette call from somewhere behind me.

“Is that so?” Sex-on-a-stick guy replied. “Well, what makes you think I’m trying to pick you up,Dream?”

Fuck me.Half of me was already hating this guy, while the other half wondered how good he could fuck.

“Aren’t you?” I asked, feeling like a simpleton as I did. The war between my body and my mind had me thrown off-kilter, and I hoped I didn’t sound like I wanted him to.

“You sound like you want me to.”

Shit.

“Well, don’t worry,Dream. The only thing I’m interested in picking up at the moment is a slice of chocolate layer cake.”

Afraid I was going to say something else I’d regret a second later, I bit my lip and nodded. I pivoted around to find Jeanette turn away and cover her mouth.Bitch.

“So,” I said as I removed the serving-sized paper plate and begin to recreate his order. I’ve made this order hundreds of times since I opened and could do it in my sleep. “What brings you to our small town?”

“How do you know I’m not from around here?” Sex-on-a-stick said in return.

I paused and scrunched my face. “Are you serious?”

He nodded which made me raise an eyebrow. Was this an attempt at conversation or was he stupid?

“First, Arley men don’t have your accent.”

“Ah,” he said and flashed me a smile which made me tremble. “The damned accent is always giving me away. Any guesses where I’m from?”

“If I had to,” I said as I continued making his order, but maintaining eye-contact with Sex-on-a-stick. “I’d guess somewhere south of the border. You’re an immigrant, right?”

“Close. I’m from Orias.”

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