Page 10 of Born in Fire

“You’re doing fine,” he assures me. “Perfect, actually.” There’s a slight pause, and then, “So, Juno the astronomer’s daughter,” he says, “would it be too forward to ask for your number? I’d like to continue our conversation about the stars sometime.”

I suck in a breath, and my fingers find my cuticles, picking slightly before I catch myself.

One, two, three, four—inhale.

One, two, three, four—exhale.

Tyler’s face flashes in my mind—his initial charm, how quickly he moved from attentive to possessive. But this isn’t Tyler. And I can’t spend my life flinching from every hot man who shows interest.

“Um… I… I…” I press my lips together, looking around awkwardly. The crowd has dwindled somewhat, and the counter is clear. I can’t tell him I’m busy.

“Go on.” His smile widens. “Don’t break my heart.”

I giggle before I can stop myself.

For God’s sake, Juno!

I never freaking giggle. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

“Please?” He rests his elbows on the counter. A wave of his scent mingles with the coffee around me; it’s almost as rich and strong as the brew.

I chew on my lip. “I don’t know. I…” I trail off.

He lowers his voice. “I’m not above begging.” He bobs his eyebrows over those remarkable eyes.

It’s just coffee. And you can always block his number if he’s a creep.

“Pretty please?” He draws the words out as he leans forward a little. The movement has his elbow bumping the cappuccino Lisa just poured for the guy at the end of the counter. Coffee splashes onto the crisp apron I put on at the start of my shift. The stain spreads over the pink polka dots. I stare down at it and then up at him.

“Oh, Jesus.” He puts a hand over his face. “Way to go, Dorian. I guess I owe you a tip now.” He fumbles in his billfold and shoves a note in the tip box.

“Is that a dollar?” I raise an eyebrow.

Now it’s his turn to look sheepish as he eyes the note. “Uh… yes? Guess I should have checked first.”

“You’re a shitty tipper. I should probably ban you from the place.” I stifle a grin when I see color trickle up his neck. It charms me. “But you’ve got sad eyes. I’ll allow it.”

He blinks at me for a second, as if nobody has ever said such a thing to him. I’m surprised myself. I don’t even know the man.

Where the hell did that come from?

“Okay,” I decide impulsively, reaching for a napkin and pen. I write my number carefully, not adding my last name or anyother identifying information. A small protection, but it makes me feel more in control.

I slide the napkin toward him. “I’m usually free on Tuesdays.”

Why are you telling him this? Why?!

His smile broadens as he pockets the napkin. “Tuesday it is. I’ll text you so you have my number, too.”

“I should get back to work,” I say, gesturing to the line that’s now started forming behind him.

“Of course.” He steps back, raising his hand in a small salute. “Until Tuesday, Juno of the stars.”

The playful farewell makes me smile despite myself. I watch as he rejoins his companion, who rises with fluid grace. They exit together, the contrast between them striking—Dorian’s casual confidence against the other man’s contained authority.

As they disappear through the doors, I return to the espresso machine, staring at the cup it’s filling with perhaps more focus than necessary. My heart still beats a little too quickly, but not entirely from anxiety.

“Hey! Do you know who that was?” Lisa whispers, sidling up beside me.

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