Page 5 of Coral Prince Conundrum
I walk into the back entrance of Café Magnifique and clock in. “Watch your step, Daryl,” Justice says as he mops the kitchen area.
“Oh, hey, Justice. Thanks.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t do the first morning shift.” My buddy leans on his mop and studies me.
“I had an early lunch date with dear old Dad,” I say in a facetious tone. I pick up the coffee beans and walk out to the main entrance. The place is not too busy at the moment, but every time I work afternoons, there’s much to do at the start of shift. As usual, we’re almost out of coffee, so I’ve grown accustomed to refilling the grinders without anyone prompting me.
“Did he finally get you a new car?”
I growl and shoot daggers out of my eyes at my supposed best friend. He knows I drive a massive, slow-moving former food truck with “Tishman’s Fishery” logos splashed all over it. “No,” I grumble.
“Why not? That thing always takes up, like, three parking spaces.” He puts away the mop, and I try to ignore him. “Ithought you, the heir to the throne of tuna, or whatever, would have a better car.”
“I don’t want anything to do with Dad’s company.” I idly clean random cups to distract myself from the subject.Why isn’t anyone ordering?“And as atonement, he won’t buy me a real car.”
“Oof, brutal,” Justice says as he stacks clean cups.
“As usual, he questions my life choices. So yeah, I’m not exactly the happiest camper today.” I head to the back and restock a tray of cinnamon rolls. When I return to the front, I place the tray of food in the display case. I scrutinize all the baked goods available, mostly to forget my family woes.
“Well, I know what will cheer you up,” Justice murmurs.
“What?”
“Go get on register,” he whispers. “You can serve your boy, he just walked in.” He disappears to the back before I can properly interpret his words.
“What are you—ah!”My voice gets caught in my throat at the sight.
It’shim. Time slows down, and sunlight from all the windowed walls of the café seems to glow around the majestic human before me. The man at the counter has been the object of my every lustful fantasy for the past almost two weeks.
Let’s review the facts: he’s Asian, with dark skin and freshly trimmed black hair. He’s not as tall as I am, but he’s built where I could use more definition. He has to have a lean, swimmer’s build in order to be the lifeguard at the neighboring hotel.
That’s another fact: I know he works there, because I had to do a supply run—the hotel owners also own the café—which led me to walk past the pool area. Seeing him clean the pool in all his shirtless glory, with long, dark, wet hair, was like a smack to the face.
Literally—I was gazing at him through a clear door, and when he turned to me, I hastily dashed headfirst into a column. And when he came out to investigate which idiot was making a ruckus, I ducked into a closet.
I hadn’t been closeted since I was thirteen. And there I was, hiding from the hottest guy I’d ever seen, trying to will my erection down. Yes, I told Justice all of this; what are openly queer coworkers-slash-besties good for if not gossip?
And the final fact of all: he’s standing right in front of me. He waves his hand, which snaps me from my daydreams.
“Uh, uh, yes. Can I service you?” I cough. “I mean, how can I be of your, um…service?” I shake my head.Come on, Daryl—you’ve said this phrase like a thousand times in the two years you’ve worked here. Use your brain cells.
I take a deep breath and smile at this gorgeous Asian hottie. “What I really meant to say is: Welcome to Café Magnifique. May I take your order?”
“Um, what is good here?”
Don’t say,“Me, on my knees. Complimentary blow job for first-time customers.”Even though I totally would, don’t say it.
“Our pistachio lattes are a personal favorite,” I reply.
He grins and crosses his arms. His dark work shirt nearly rips at that maneuver, and I try to will myself not to get hard. “I am afraid that where I come from, we do not have many cows or milk.”
His accent is so magical and sexy. I grin. “We have nondairy options. Would you like to try it with oat milk?”
“Very well,” he replies with a shy smile. I ring him up and notice the peculiarity of his credit card. It’s a color I’ve never seen, but the purchase goes through, so I don’t dwell on it.
I hand the hot guy his receipt and say, “Have a seat, I’ll get right on you. I mean, right onthat…for you.”
I bite back a curse for myself and turn to see Justice lining up cups for me. “Ten out of ten, no notes,” my friend whispers. “So fucking entertaining.”
