Page 8 of Starfish and Coffee
Alex looked into the freezer and then called out, “The pepperoni ones?”
“Please!”
Alex flipped on the oven and worked on dumping the whole box onto the cookie sheet. He wasn’t rushed, because the baseball game had stopped being interesting the moment he found out Matt Tarrington was going to be working the breakfast shift with him.
He couldn’t believe his fucking luck, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it was some sort of joke. Alex didn’t think guys like that even knew the meaning of work. At least not work the way Alex knew it—sweating and stressed, with waitresses bitching you out and a boss harping on you to get the fuck out of the weeds or get a new job.
Matt and his group of friends were the type of guys who got expensive educations and then went straight into fancy corner offices with a kickass view without working their way up from anything. It was little wonder Will hated all those college kids whose parents owned winter houses on the beach. He’d scrimped and saved for his education, losing sleep for the past seven years trying to hold down a job and handle all the schoolwork.
Will bled for something those spoiled brats took for granted, and Matt Tarrington was the richest, most spoiled of them all. His family owned Tarrington department stores. Old southern money, they were highbrowed and uptight, but for some reason they liked Mirabella Island. They’d been coming during the summer for years. After Matt’s father died, his mother took up residence nearly full-time, but Matt was still seasonal. He was usually in that big, intimidating beach estate on extended school breaks, partying it up with the rest of his crowd.
Aside from being outrageously wealthy, Matt also happened to be one of the most handsome men Alex had ever laid eyes on, and Alex considered himself a connoisseur of fine-looking men.
He snorted, trying to imagine the sexy rich boy sweating it out in the trenches of Frank’s café. Matt would likely quit the first day. Not that it mattered. Getting together with him was a pipe dream anyway, but Alex was a good dreamer. He’d been having that particular fantasy since he was old enough to figure out he wasn’t even kind of gay. Alex was 100 percent team cock, and Matt was certainly his kind of conquest.
For the first time ever, Alex had a reason to look forward to work.
* * * *
“Employee parking in the back. Told you that yesterday.”
Matt paused at the front steps of Frank’s café, looking at his new boss with a frown. “No, I’m fairly certain—”
“Move the Porsche, boy,” Frank said before letting the front door close in Matt’s face.
Matt pulled his keys out of his pocket and turned around, deciding to bite his tongue against pointing out Frank did not tell him to park in back, he would’ve remembered. Instead he returned to a pitch-black parking lot. The waves sounded in the distance, and the air was still cool enough to be comfortable. There was an odd peacefulness in getting up before the birds to work at the little seaside café, and despite his new boss being an asshole, Matt was surprisingly excited about this escape from his reality.
He moved his black Porsche behind the café, and parked it next to an old Dumpster with the thought that he might want to start riding a bike to work if this was the only parking available.
He was just getting out of the car when the loud hum of a motorcycle cut through the peaceful morning air. The beam of a single headlight blinded him when the sleek white motorcycle made the turn to the short dirt road behind Frank’s café.
Even with the darkness and the helmet, Matt would recognize Alex Hunter anywhere. His tall, lithe build made up of hard, cut muscles was distinctive, so was his confident presence. He parked next to Matt’s car and crawled off the bike like he was made to ride it.
“Hey, man.” Alex pulled his helmet off and ran a hand through his short hair. Bleached and streaked by the sun it was blonder than the honey brown it was supposed to be. The smile he gave Matt gleamed white under the waning moonlight. “I heard a rumor you’d decided to crawl into the trenches with the rest of us. I thought it was a fucking joke.”
Matt shrugged. “I needed a year off life before I got caught up with all the bullshit in Atlanta.”
“A year off life. Nice.” Alex nodded before he gave Matt a look of hesitance. “And working here is what you decided to do with it?”
“I like to keep busy.”
“Whatever, Tarrington.” Alex walked up and extended his hand. “Been a while. You skipped spring break, and summer’s practically over—didn’t see you hanging with the rest of your crowd.”
Matt shook Alex’s warm, calloused hand. “Last half of the year before graduation was stressful, and I’ve been wrapping up things in Georgia since then. I didn’t have the time.”
“Now you’re gonna apply all your hard-earned education to Frank’s café.” Alex patted his back affectionately. “I’ll never understand you snowbird brats.”
Matt laughed with him. There was something about Alex Hunter that put people at ease. His teasing was always lighthearted and friendly, and his jabs lacked the barbs of other Mirabella locals.
“You need a bike,” Alex offered as he walked to the back door. “You can’t be parking that Porsche back here. Some beach partiers will key it just for the fun of it.”
“You think so?”
“It’s still summer. Every asshole in the world is on the beach.” Alex reached for the knob and pulled up short when the door didn’t open. “What the hell?” He pounded the worn wood with his fist, then kicked it for good measure. “Who locked the fucking—”
“What’re you doing here so early?” Frank barked as he abruptly opened the door. He stared at Alex like he’d grown two heads. “You haven’t come in on time in four years.”
“Will told me you had the new guy on. I figured we’d need extra prep time.” Alex pushed past Frank. “What’s up with you guys locking the door? There’s three of you here. What dickhead put the bar back down?”
