Page 30 of Lost Track

Oh.

Took another, larger sip.

Oh.

“This is…” She frowned and held the transparent cup up to the light. She had no idea what she was looking for. An explanation as to its delicious flavor?

“It’s good?” he asked, sort of bouncing on his toes.

“It’sverygood.” She took another sip and eyed it again. “Why is it so good?”

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed, shoving his hands in his hair and pulling them back out again. It made his hair stick out all over the place.

He paced back to the machine. “I have tried three different roasts from different companies today. I have tried tap water and bottled water. The result is always the same though.”

“Delicious espresso?” she guessed, wondering if he’d make her another one.

“Unless…” He muttered to himself and began opening the doors below the sink area.

He resembled a mad scientist a little bit.

“How many espressos have you had today, Dave?” she asked, keeping her voice casual.

He spun around. “Why do you ask?”

She couldn’t help it. She really tried though.

She smiled.

His eyes flicked to her mouth and back, and his lips also began to curve.

“No reason.” She swallowed.

This was not the guy in the music videos and tabloid headlines. He wasn’t calculated and manipulative. He wasn’t egotistical and full of himself.

You know what he was? He was a bit of a dork.

“Do you want another one?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

He ran the machine again and brought her a new cup of espresso. She eyed the empties starting to pile up on the counter.

“Do you do this every day?” he asked, taking a seat at the table.

She assumed he was asking about the tutoring. Granted, a recording studio wasn’t her usual workspace. But she could work anywhere.

“More or less.” She angled herself to face him. “We meet every day for the first couple of weeks and then reevaluate the student’s progress and see if we can cut back.”

“How many students do you have?”

“At the moment I have three full time and one part time.”

“And you work at the bar on the weekends.” He nodded, as if cataloguing that information away. “Why tutoring and not teaching?”

“Oof.” She checked her watch, Piper was late. She could probably give him a shortened version of her story. She crossed one leg over the other and tugged her dark gray skirt to cover the top of her knee. She was wearing opaque tights as usual, but the habit to cover her legs remained. “I wanted to be a more traditional teacher. But I couldn’t pass any of the background checks.” She chuckled at his expression. “That sounds worse than it is.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Are you a criminal, Sabine?”

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