Page 18 of Cream & Sugar
I smile, taking the dirty cup. “That’ll warm your cockles.”
“My what?”
“Never mind,” I gesture to the office door. “Why don’t you hang your coat up in there and come join me when you’re ready. I’ll show you how to work the till before we open up.”
Freddie gives me a little salute before heading into the back. He leaves the office door open so I can see him tying his hair up in the same loose man bun he was sporting yesterday. As he does, his wiry biceps jump up and down like ping-pong balls. The neckline of his shirt falls deep, revealing a triangle of lithely muscled chest and a small tattoo along his collarbone—
I snap my head away. Bloody hell, I really need to stop staring at him! His good looks caught me off guard yesterday but I wasn’t expecting this to be a long-term issue. It’s odd; I’m not used to other men drawing my eye. Not unless it’s Jonathan Bailey or something but then again, no one is immune to his charms, right? I defy anyone to not do a double-take at a man that pretty and Freddie’s definitely in the same league. With a face like that he could easily be a movie star. Maybe this is what being starstruck feels like?
A minute later, Freddie returns. He flashes me a dopey grin, a polo mint clamped between his teeth.
“Successfully thawed?” I ask.
“All but my cockles.” Freddie winks again. No man should be able to wink that much without looking seedy but somehow he manages it. “Right boss, you were gonna show me that till?”
“Yes. ButShaun, please.”
“Gotcha.”
I usher him behind the counter. As I do, my eyes stray over the rest of Freddie’s outfit. His jeans give new meaning to the term “skinny fit,” the dark denim hugging his long legs with a revealing tightness.
There I go, staring again! He might be distractingly pretty, but that’s no reason to perv at him; I’m hisemployer, for goodness sake. More to the point, I’m not even into guys!
Freddie sidles up to the till and turns around. He cocks his head when he sees me hanging back.
Something in the way he’s looking at me makes my heart do somersaults. What is this? I feel like I caught the ball and now have an entire rugby team bearing down on me. I thought something felt odd when I first saw him yesterday, but I put that down to delirium from being so bone-achingly tired. But this… this feels like, and I don’t want to give it credence but there’s no other word for it, a crush. A man crush. But there’s no way! It’s way too sudden and if I was into men, likeactuallyinto men, I’d know it.
Right?
“Everything okay, Shaun?” Freddie asks. Is he doing that seductive voice on purpose? Or am I just imagining it? I give my mind a shake. I can’t afford to get a man crush right now, especially not on someone I just hired. Life’s confusing enough. Plus, I’m on the verge of total burnout and onboarding Freddie is my last hope for a decent night’s sleep. This is not the time to getfeelings, if you can even call them that—they might just be a Pavlovian response to meeting someone objectively attractive, which Freddie undoubtedly is. Even if he is a man.
Yes. That must be it.
Feelings or no feelings, I'll do to them what I’ve been doing to my hairline for years: ignore it and hope it gets better on its own.
I compose myself and join Freddie at the till, putting on my “manager hat.”
“Everything’s fine,” I say. “Now, have you ever used one of these before?”
7
Freddie
I’msureShaun’sdemonstrationof how the till works is fantastic. Unfortunately, I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything he’s saying. Every time he opens and shuts the cash drawer, his pecs twitch under his shirt and it’s physically impossible to pay attention to anything else. Normally I’m not that fussy with men, anatomically speaking, as long as they’re easy on the eyes, but a thick set of twitchy pecs sets me off like a hungry tiger on a buffalo. I can’t help it. It’s just biology. All I want to do is press my face against them and motorboat until I can’t breathe.
I try not to make it too obvious I’m looking, but he’s so deep in instructor-mode, I’m pretty sure I’m getting away with it.
He clunks the cash drawer shut for a final time (twitch, twitch), and my eyes flick up to meet his.
“Any questions?” he asks.
“Nope,” I lie.
It’s fine; I’m sure my subconscious picked up most of the important bits. How hard can it be? Just push enough buttons and one of them’s bound to be the right one.
“Cool,” Shaun gives me a dorky thumbs-up. “It’s five to seven so I’m going to open. Just focus on greeting the customers, taking their order and ringing it through the till.”
“That’s all you want me to do?”
