Page 5 of Tuned To Break
“Oh my God, you didn’t!” Shock and excitement war for dominance on her face. “You absolute legend!”
“Blame the alcohol,” I mutter, snatching up my cocktail and downing what’s left in three large gulps.
“Right, because it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been desperately in need of a good shag for months.”
“Definitely not that,” I agree, though we both know she’s hit the nail on the head.
Megan scans the bar with the dedication of a bounty hunter. “Where is he? Point him out!”
I follow her gaze around the room. The crowd’s starting to thin as it gets later, and my heart sinks when I realise he’s nowhere to be seen.
He’s literally vanished into the night like the Batman he resembled, leaving me with nothing but the memory of his hands and the taste of him on my lips.
And the absolute certainty that I’ll be replaying every second of this encounter for months to come.
CHAPTER ONE
STELLA - 3 MONTHS LATER
“Miss! Excuse me, MISS! Oi, you!”
The voice cuts through the Saturday morning chaos like nails on a chalkboard. I don’t look up from the coffee machine where I’m crafting what will hopefully be the perfect flat white. The customer can bloody well wait his turn like everyone else.
“Sir, I’ve asked you politely three times to wait your turn. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“No, you need to serve me NOW!”
His voice rises to a level that makes several customers turn and stare. I can feel my patience, which was already hanging by a thread thanks to Bree calling in sick this morning, finally start to fray.
It’s a typical Saturday at The Enchanted Bean—freaking mental. The weekend crowd is a special breed of demanding, and being here solo until Emily arrives is like trying to perform surgery with a rusty butter knife. Possible, but bloody frustrating.
“I said I’d be with you in a moment. I’m just finishing this order.” I keep my voice level, professional, even though what I really want to do is tell this entitled prick exactly where he can shove his impatience.
He scoffs—actually scoffs—and stands there tapping his manicured fingers on the counter like he’s playing some sort of annoying percussion solo. The sound is making my eye twitch.
“Order for Arden!” I call out, sliding the coffee across the counter with a smile for the customer who knows how to behave like a civilised human being.
Arden—one of our regulars—collects his drink with a nod of thanks and settles into his usual corner table. Now for Mr. Personality Disorder.
“Hello, sir. Welcome to The Enchanted Bean. How can I help you?” The words come out with my best customer service smile, though I can’t quite keep the edge out of my voice. This bloke has been standing here acting like his coffee emergency is more important than everyone else’s, and frankly, I’m done with his attitude.
“I’d like a cappuccino with no foam, please. Oat milk.”
I blink at him. “So, you want a flat white?”
“No,” he says slowly, like I’m intellectually challenged. “I want a cappuccino with no foam.”
“Right. That’s called a flat white, sir.”
His face starts turning an interesting shade of red. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”
That’s it. The last thread of my patience just snapped.
“Yes, I absolutely know what I’m doing. I’ve been making coffee longer than you’ve been able to drive, and a cappuccino without foam is, by definition, a flat white.”
“No, it is NOT. It’s a cappuccino without foam!”
“Listen, sir?—”
