Page 3 of On The Run

That was the one benefit of the morning rush: I was too busy to notice every time a customer came in, and I didn’t tense the fuck up every couple of minutes. Just before I got the nerve to turn around and go greet the customer, who was probably nothim, Anna brushed past me and whispered, “Your boyfriend is here.”

My cheeks heated, and I was fucking grateful that my naturally tan skin, from my Italian and Hispanic heritage, kept the blush from showing too much, or at least I hoped.

I nudged her in the shoulder as my head snapped toward the man who just walked into the café. “Shut up. He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t even know his name.”

Anna grinned, full of mischief, and sometimes she seemed so much younger than her thirty-two years. “I can remedy that for you.”

I fixed her with a glare that said, “Don’t you dare,” and slipped on my best customer-service smile as I went to greet the man who’d been my biggest crush and probably unhealthy fixation for the last ten months or so.

The guy came in every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday like clockwork, at exactly 8 am on the nose. I’d only seen him deviate from that schedule a handful of times in the almost year he’d been frequenting the shop. And every time he came in, his little son was clutching his hand and jumping up and down next to him.

“Hi, Aiden,” the little boy shouted, waving frantically. Instantly, my heart melted. I may have known nothing about the kid’s father, but I knew a whole lot about Grayson: he was six, his birthday was in March, and he was in kindergarten. I knew that he was obsessed with Black Panther. Even now, he was wearing a Black Panther hoodie, the kind that, when the hood was down, there were little panther ears on top, and there was a section that came about halfway down his face, like the Black Panther mask. I didn’t need to see his backpack to know it was also Black Panther. It reminded me of my Spider-Man obsession from when I was kid. Hell, who was I kidding? I was still obsessed with him.I mean, Tom Holland? Come on.

“Hey, little man!” I leaned over the counter with my fist out so he could fist-bump me. I was trying really hard not to make eye contact with Gray’s dad, but it was hard not to, and I saw him smile as Gray returned the bump. “On your way to school?”

Gray nodded emphatically. “Yup. But today is actually gonna be fun. We have firemen coming, and we get to go inside the fire truck!”

“Oh, wow! That’s so cool.”

“I know! Have you ever been in a fire truck? Dad says he was when he was younger.”

I wished I didn’t feel a little stab of jealousy over something so minor, so unimportant. But I did. Of course, he did. He probably went to a normal school and experienced normal things. I didn’t have that luxury thanks to my psychotic sperm donor.

I hoped none of my less than flattering feelings showed on my face as I smiled at the little kid. It wasn’t either of their faults. “No, I haven’t, but I bet it’s awesome.”

Grayson was still rattling off about seeing the fire trucks. I glanced at his dad and mouthed, “The usual?” not wanting to interrupt the kid. I was proud of myself for staying so professional and keeping my focus on my job and the little boy, until the man had the nerve to smile at me as he nodded. Fucking smiled. At. Me.

And then, all my professionalism and fight to stay cool went right out the window. Because no one had the right to look that sexy when they smiled. The man was fucking gorgeous. He reminded me of a more rugged Tyson Beckford, and let me tell you, I’d jerked off more times than I’d like to admit to that man in the “Toxic” music video. He was probably in his mid-thirties, which should be enough for my 21-year-old self to shut down this crush, but my brain didn’t work like that. His smooth skin was this gorgeous golden-brown, which made him a couple shades darker than his son. He’d mentioned a few times that his mom was Korean, and it was most apparent in his hooded eyes that were narrower on the corners. He always looked like maybe he hadn’t shaved in a couple days, with just a little dark scruff that covered his strong jaw. I didn’t usually like facial hair, but I fucking loved it on him. He had full, lush lips—I could probably write songs dedicated just to them, not that I knew how.

He always tended to suck in the bottom lip when he was thinking, which was what he was doing now as his rich brown eyes scanned the bakery counter. That was the only thing that ever changed in his order: the pastry to go with his triple espresso. Grayson always got a plain bagel, toasted, with a little bit of cream cheese, an apple juice, and a yogurt pouch. Every single time. So as the sexy dad tried to decide which overly sugared treat he was going to eat today, I began to get his drink and Grayson’s breakfast together. Most Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, I already had it prepared before they got in the door so all I had to do was get the sexy dad’s pastry out of the glass counter. I was only slightly ashamed to admit that I typically counted down the minutes till he walked through the door. Creepy? Yes. As creepy as me adjusting my classes so I could always work the mornings he and Gray came in? Probably not. Hell, I didn’t even know if he was gay and I was crushing this hard. If I ever found out he was somewhere on the rainbow, I was a goner.

Sexy dad was maybe two or three inches taller than my 5’10”, but he was so much broader. I’d always been skinny, no matter what I did. When I was younger, I figured it was because food wasn’t always the easiest to come by. Pops always made sure I ate first, but still, there were some nights I went to bed hungry. But, I’d been living on high-calorie baked goods for the last year, plus working out 4-5 days a week, and I was still rail thin. I came to terms that that was just my body these days.

Sexy dad rested his free hand on his hip, which caused his bicep to bulge in the button-down dress shirt he always wore. I wasn’t sure what he did for a living, but the guy was always dressed like a real professional. I’d say he was a professor, but I didn’t think so. I just didn’t get the professor vibe. I almost overfilled the apple juice cup because I was watching his bicep flex and relax. I caught myself just in time and thankfully, sexy dad didn’t notice. Fuck, I really needed to find out his name.

“I’m going to have the bear claw today, I think.” I swallowed down a shudder and nodded with a big grin. This man’s voice was something else. It was all low and rumbly, and every time he spoke, I felt it in my toes.

“Great choice. They were made fresh this morning.” That was one thing about our café. Unlike the big chains, all the baked goods were made fresh every day. The baker, a guy named Mario, came in at 3:30 am and baked all the stuff. He usually left as Anna and I came in to open and gave us a nod and a grunt I thought meant good morning before leaving, but the guy sure could bake.

“I can never go wrong with anything I get from here.”

I grabbed his bear claw, Gray’s food, and the drinks and brought them to the counter. I rang him up and much to my surprise, instead of the cash he usually paid with, sexy dad hands me his credit card.

Ok, I knew I was the creepiest motherfucker on the planet right now, but I couldn’t just call him “sexy dad” all the time, right? That was probably rude. He knew my name. It was only fair I knew his.

I was aware the logic was faulty, but whatever. I swiped his card, and when sexy dad looked down to hand Gray his juice and yogurt, I snuck a peek at his name: Maxwell Campbell. Holy shit, after nearly a year of crushing so hard on someone who was so far out of my league, we weren’t even on the same planet, I finally got something, just a little crumb, into this man’s life: his name.

I managed not to look like the stalker I was apparently becoming as I handed him back his card.

“Thank you, Aiden. This has become my favorite part of my day.” And yes, I was sure he meant the fresh coffee and delicious baked goods, not to mention the bonding time he got with his son. I seriously doubted he was even thinking about me. But still, I was just a pile of goo and butterflies by the time Maxwell Campbell guided his son to their usual table for their usual breakfast.

Chapter2

Max

As my sonrambled on about who would win in a fight, Black Panther or a fireman, I watched the young barista out of the corner of my eye. Did I mention young? Because I’d like to emphasize that if he was even 21, I’d be shocked. My 35-five-year-old, single-dad ass should not even be looking at him. But I couldn’t help it; the kid fascinated me.

In all the years I’d lived in this town, I’d never stepped foot in this café until last year. Work was my only focus, and I typically just grabbed my coffee from the fancy machines at my office. Working for the county as a civil engineer didn’t give me quite the same luxury as some of the engineers in the private sector might get, but we sure splurged on our coffee machines.

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