Page 24 of Midsummer Phoenixes
“Okay then.”
With my tray under one arm and my body light and tingly, I made it back to the counter where I picked up Ben’s plates, then made another round of coffee refills. No one seemed to have been bothered by me sitting down with Soyer, not Rae, not Dwayne, and not any of the patrons either.
The last two hours were uneventful, and they went by quickly. The writer stayed until the end, asking for a grilled cheese after all, though he mostly hid behind his screen, deep in conversation with his ghost in the machine lover. After earlier, I wondered if maybe the two of them were doing what Soyer and I had done—sexting, if that’s what it was called when you weren’t on a phone.
But no. I figured if they were, I should have seen it in the writer’s behavior, should have seen some fidgeting, but he was calm and shy as always.
More intently than I watched my patrons, Soyer watched me, his eyes barely wavering. Dwayne announced the kitchen was closing twenty minutes to three, prompting one final order of buffalo cauliflower from table one, the quiet guy who was totally occupied with staring at his phone still.
We had the diner to ourselves by a quarter after three, and when I switched off the lights in the front, the four of us found ourselves standing just outside the kitchen.
Dwayne looked at Rae and myself. “Nice job, you two. Good first day back.”
“Good job to you as well,” Soyer said. “I’ve seen several new reviews pop up. One praises the buttered pancakes with maple syrup and berries.”
Dwayne snorted. “Damn right. Fucking crêpes.” He pulled his hairnet off. “Now let’s get out of here. No need to stay for the morning shift.
CHAPTER SIX
I should have been dead on my feet after all the many people I’d served, but I wasn’t. Instead, I had the energy to smile at Soyer’s door person, and my good mood only grew as we rode up to his floor on the elevator.
“Look at you,” he said, unlocking the door to his house.
“What?”
“Too damn fucking sweet, and all it makes me want to do is bend you over furniture, but I can’t because I promised you dinner.”
I laughed, sliding off my summer jacket just before Soyer could do that for me. The nights were cool, but still, how he managed with his coat in June, I had no idea.
“You think I joke.”
Soyer, my jacket in his hand, cupped my neck and pulled me in for a kiss. My world exploded when I opened myself up to him, to his almost rough, hungry kiss. It might have lasted a minute or ten, I wasn’t sure. All my senses went into overdrive.
I hadmissedhim, missed him so fucking much, and with the kiss, happiness overcame me.
Soyer pulled back with a growl, and I said, “Fuck.”
“Upstairs,” he said.
“Yeah.”
He dropped my jacket and his coat. His hands went to my shirt, and I felt the strength in his arms, getting ready to tear. I pulled back, steadied his wrists, all of which gained me another growl and Soyer going for my neck to nip the skin above my Adam’s apple.
“Just don’t tear my uniform. It’s new.”
“Fucking tease. I’ll buy you another. Fuck, I’ll buy you a dozen.”
Soft as he so often spoke with me, I said, “Soyer. Make love to me.”
My mind reader, my undying lover, he understood. Instead of tearing, grabbing, biting, he slipped his hands free of my hold and used them to frame my head. He looked me in the eyes. The fire still burned in his black ones, but those flames were banked now with affection and care.
“Whatever you want, my heart.”
He kissed me on the lips and took my hand to lead me up his spiraling stairs.
Once in his bedroom, we undressed. He let me do my own buttons, at least those on my work shirt, not so much my pants. For some reason, I started giggling, and then we were both laughing by the time we tumbled on the covers arm in arm.
“Anything you want?” he asked, his breath warm against the shell of my ear.
