Page 9 of Resting Beach Face
I grinned. “You’re almost as tempting as your coffee.”
“Just almost?”
“Sadly, I don’t see aMocha me Moan, Dannyon the menu.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “That could be arranged.”
Poppy walked up just then. “Good gravy, are you two going to flirt all day or are we going to actually get some coffee before you have to go to work?”
“Says the woman who’s late.”
“Well, I came overon time, but there was no sign of you, so I popped back over to the store to do a little more work. When I came back—five minutes ago, by the way—you were just too busy gazing into Danny’s pretty green eyes to look my way.”
Poppy ran a pottery shop, Little Clay Pot, next door with her dad.
I shot her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, we were just…”
“I know what you were doing,” she said with a laugh. “You’re both huge flirts and when you meet, there’s some sort of gravitational force that makes you try to outdo each other.”
I shrugged. She wasn’t wrong. It was fun to flirt, and it was especially fun to flirt with Danny because he wouldn’t take it as an invitation.
“Well, since Dannyisn’ton the menu yet, what can I get you two?” he asked, all business now.
“Hmm. I’ll take the DP Cream,” I said with relish.
It stood for double-praline cream, but Danny’s names were always way more fun.
“Yummy. Hot or cold?” he asked.
“Ordinarily, I’d say hot, but uh…”
“Yeah, you need to cool off,” Poppy said dryly. “And I’ll take the flat white.”
Danny often teased his customers into saying the full names—the Flat-On-My-Back White, in this case—but Poppy always got a pass.
“Can you whip up drinks for Brooks, Sky, and Grandma Kitty, too?” I checked the time on my phone. “If I’m gonna waltz in late, I need a peace offering.”
“Sure thing.”
Danny made our first two drinks, and Poppy and I took a seat while he made the rest.
I took a long draw from my straw, sighing as the sugary bliss washed over me. “This is almost as good as sex.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Poppy said.
She was ace and aromantic, and from what she’d told us, had no desire for a romantic or sexual partner.
“Don’t you ever…” I stopped, chewing my lip, unsure if I should ask.
“What?”
I lowered my voice. “Tell me if this is too personal, but do you ever have physical cravings at all?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want physical intimacy with another person, but yeah, I still…”
She trailed off, but I got the picture.
“It’s different for everyone on the spectrum, I suppose,” she mused. “There’s not any one way to be ace.”
