Page 39 of Billionaire and the Barista

“Would you care for a drink?” I held out the neighboring tall chair for her.

She slid in and turned to face me. “Oh, I don’t drink.”

I looked at her through squinted eyes. “The Gabriella I used to know drank. As a matter of fact, you used to enjoy flashing that ID of yours to everyone because you were twenty-one.”

“True enough. But then I gave it up, for…” she paused and sighed, “reasons, and I never started back up. Booze is expensive, so are cigarettes.”

“So are a lot of vices.”

“Exactly. And I have to be circumspect with my spending. I let my vices do double duty. I like cake and I like frosting, and…”

“Those are business expenses.”

“Exactly.” I signaled the bartender, lifted my drink, and said, “She’ll have the same.”

The bartender slid the tallboy full of clear liquid and ice in front of Gabriella.

With a shake of her head and a sigh, she pushed the drink away. “I’m serious Nathan, I don’t drink. You can’t tempt me with fancy cocktails that sound like they should be at a party.”

“It’s a mojito, a non-alcoholic mojito. I stopped drinking as well. Maybe we still have other things in common?”

“Your table is ready if sir and madame would care to follow me.” A server stood behind us, menus clutched in her arms.

Gabriella slid from her tall chair at the same time I stood. Her body pressed into mine as we collided in the same small space. I wrapped my hand around her back to steady her. I hadn’t had her this close in far too long.

Her cheeks flushed and she jumped out of my grasp. “Sorry, excuse me.”

She scurried after the server. I picked up her drink and followed behind. She was beautiful, and the view from the back was as glorious as the view from the front. I was exceedingly glad I didn’t have to put up with her appointment nonsense because I couldn’t focus on much of anything except the way her body moved as she walked.

I don’t remember what we ordered. And I found the food to be more of a distraction than anything else. The way she rested her chin on her hand and looked at me as I spoke was pretty much all there was.

Unless she was eating, and then it was difficult to think as I watched her full pink mouth take in bites of food. The way the tines slid from between those lips.

My memories raced back to remembering that mouth, those lips on my body. A groan formed deep in my chest.

“Are you all, right?” she asked, concern laced her words, a furrow creased her brow.

“I’m fine.” I coughed to clear my throat and hide my embarrassment. That groan had been out loud.

“You sounded like you were in pain.”

The pain I was in was my damned fault.

“You were telling me about Amsterdam,” she prompted a return to our conversation.

“I used to think St. Louis was an old city, had that old feel to it. But when you get to Europe, it’s profoundly different. They have buildings there that were constructed while we still had pilgrims arriving in boats. And the building my apartment was in had originally been built in the early seventeen hundreds. Back then St. Louis wasn’t much more than a wide spot in the river for fur traders.”

“Probably not even that. I don’t remember, maybe? It’s been a while since I took State history in high school. And I probably didn’t pay much attention to it anyway.”

A server appeared and our plates were whisked away. Then the one who had seated us, and taken our order returned. “Would you care for dessert this evening?”

Gabriella’s eyes went wide. “Yes, please.”

She accepted the dessert menu and had ordered a Turkish Delight cupcake, and a slice of cheesecake before I had even finished looking at the options.

“I’ll have the chocolate cheesecake,” I said, handing the menu back. “Two desserts?”

“The cupcake is a professional curiosity. I’ve had a few customers tell me I should try to get a contract with a fancy restaurant. I’d love to expand the bakery portion of the business, but the coffee, it’s my bread and butter as it were. I lure them in with the promise of coffee, and up-sell the cupcakes.”

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