Chapter 23
KELSEY
It’s almost surprising that closing down Gloria’s feels just like closing down Cowgirl Coffee.
The front door is locked, the chairs are up on the tables and most of the staff has left.
Sure, Gloria’s has ten times the staff at dinner service that the coffee shop has on the busiest morning, so that’s different.
Otherwise it feels the same, it feels familiar.
The lights in the dining room and kitchen are out, and all that’s left on are the glowing pendant orbs over the bar, casting a subtle glow. Behind the bar, the white subway tile wall is washed in red from the Gloria’s neon sign hanging above the open shelves of bottles.
It’s calm and peaceful, with a lingering charge in the air. It might be the romantic picturesque setting or it might be because I’m alone in here with Sutton.
After talking with Monica yesterday, I can’t get him out of my head. I hate when she’s right, but I can’t disagree with her. I do like him. And after tonight, I can’t get over how much I might have misjudged him.
Seeing how he treats Rich and his staff, watching how he made that couple feel like they were family, it’s all so genuine. Even after that couple left, I couldn’t get over how thoughtful he was, and paid so much attention to every detail to give them a taste of home.
This late at night, I know it’s not the best choice but I take a long sip of my iced coffee anyways. It’s probably adding to my racing thoughts, but I am a caffeine fiend and working late at a bar definitely calls for it.
“I think we’re good here.” Sutton calls from the other end of the bar and snaps me out of my mental spiral.
Some of my coffee splashes on my lips and I look around for a towel.
He walks over to me in the narrow space behind the back wall and the bar counter, with a fresh towel in hand.
When he stops in front of me, his face is cast in the contrasting light of the pendants and the glowing red neon behind him.
All of the striking features of his face are highlighted when he smiles at me.
“Here.” He reaches out and I grab the towel.
“Thanks,” I manage to squeak out.
Without my years of resolve to be mad at him, and with Monica’s idea to give him a chance in the back of mind, apparently I don’t know how to form sentences around him anymore.
He chuckles, which only flashes his dimples again. I know I give him shit for being so… him, but when he smiles like that it’s hard to think of a better way to describe this man.
“I assume you’re staying here tonight and not going back to Rodgers this late?”
I nod way too eagerly. “Yep.” I guess I’m still stuck on one word sentences. Just great.
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that,” he says excitedly.
I raise a brow. “Why? What do you think is happening here tonight, Pretty Boy?”
“I just have something I wanted you to try.”
He steps toward me with an arm extended and for a second, I think he’s going to try to pull me to him and kiss me. His hands find my hips and I don’t flinch because he’s doing it. He’s going to do what I’m too afraid to do.
I’m waiting for it but instead of crossing that line, he lifts me up onto the countertop with frighteningly little effort. I don’t think about that though because now we are eye to eye. My heart races and my palms get sweaty while I wait for him to move closer.
“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he says, his deep voice still laced with excitement in an almost giddy way.
He leans forward and, to my shocking disappointment, he bends down and opens the freezer under the counter beneath me. He pulls out a pint of gelato and shuts the freezer door with a gentle thud. I’ve never been so let down by the prospect of dessert before.
He sets it on the counter beside me and grabs two spoons.
I let out the breath I was holding and try to hide my disappointment.
My body feels like it’s about to spontaneously combust from the anticipation that is coursing through me.
While I will admit that I have wanted to try that gelato since he served it tonight, it’s not the treat I was hoping for right now.
“I still can’t believe you did that for them. Do you do that often?”
He shrugs and pops the lid off the pint container. He still stands frustratingly close to me. So close that his jeans brush against my mostly bare legs, pricking all my nerves to full awareness.
He shrugs off his chef’s coat and if I thought I was wound up before, I melt when I see his toned, tattooed forearms. His black t-shirt leaves none of his honed build to the imagination. He’s as gorgeous as the day I met him, if not even better looking.
“It’s why I do this. I know it’s not the same as your memories with this place, but I cook because I want to make people happy.
” He says it so casually and smiles while he bends down, opening the freezer again.
His tousled, inky brown hair brushes my bare calves.
Looking down, his head is just inches from where I want it to be. I am too wound up right now.
Maybe making an iced coffee this late was a bad idea because I’m definitely going to combust. Before I decide to do something truly insane like pulling his hair and pressing him to my needy core, he pops up with two more pints of gelato.
“There we go,” he says, setting them on the counter.
He grabs one of the spoons and dips it into the open tub of black raspberry chip.
I’m definitely salivating right now and that gelato has very little to do with it because my eyes are glued to his forearms. His muscles ripple when he spoons out a bite of it and I can’t look away.
My lips part just thinking about what it felt like when he had his hands on me, remembering what those fingers can do.
“Here.” He takes the spoon and lifts it toward me.
“What the—” I can’t finish that question because there is an ice cold spoonful of berry deliciousness in my mouth.
My eyes instinctively close when it hits my taste buds and I moan around the spoon.
I take back being let down because holy shit this is good.
This is the best ice cream—or gelato, or whatever he wants to call it—that I’ve ever had.
He chuckles because I must look ridiculous. My eyes open to see him grinning as he slowly pulls the spoon out of my mouth.
“You like that?”
I glare at him playfully, trying to hide just how much I enjoyed it and how desperately I want to feel his hands on me again. “Do you always spoon feed your employees after hours?”
“Never, and you’re not my employee.”
I give him a confused look while he opens another container and I note the deep brown color of the contents.
“You work for Rich, not me.” He takes a spoonful of it and eats it, humming to himself. “And Rich works for my brother, not me. He has the bar, I have the kitchen and dining room.”
“Oh.” I watch as he spoons out another bite of the brown gelato.
He brings the spoon to my mouth and I press my lips into a line. He tilts his head and raises a brow. I roll my eyes and open my mouth for him and damnit—it’s just as good the last one. This one is a rich coffee flavor and I already know from the subtleties of it that it’s one of our roasts.
He smiles and reaches for my face. The pad of his thumb runs from the corner of my mouth and along my cheek. His hands are worn but he’s so gentle that I lean into his touch.
“You missed some of your coffee.” He grins and lifts his thumb to his mouth and sucks on it.
Shit. Why is that so hot? Watching his lips and how his tongue darts out over them makes my core clench.
“Fucking cinnamon.” He shakes his head and mutters to himself. I don’t know why cinnamon is important right now, but I don’t care.
It must not matter too much, because he goes right back to what he was doing. He palms the third pint in one hand and pops the lid off with his thumb. When he reaches to grab the spoon again, I know what he’s going to do.
This time, I stop him. I grab his forearm and my body instantly thrums as I feel his warmth in my hand. He freezes at my touch and his eyes lock with mine.
The spoon clatters to the counter and he looks at me with those eyes, those damned blue eyes that do unmentionable things to me.
Maybe subconsciously, that was half the reason I avoided him for so long.
Somewhere deep down I knew that if I looked into those eyes for one second too long, all my misplaced anger would melt away and I would be left where I am right now—painfully wanting him.
I sit on the edge of the counter and he takes one step, positioning himself between my legs. The way his eyes focus on me makes my mouth go dry and I can feel my pussy clench. With him standing like this, I can’t squeeze my thighs or do anything to dull the ache that he’s causing.
“Sutton.” My voice is a breathy whisper.
He doesn’t move, but his pupils widen and flit back and forth, searching my face. I feel his gaze scorch over me, just like the night we walked around town, when he plucked me from the street. It feels just as good to have him look at me like that now. Maybe even better.
Fuck it.
I give into the charged air and my body’s demands. I decide to do something selfish—something for me because I want it.
I lean forward to close the distance between us but he’s already moving with me. Our lips meet in a forceful kiss. I don’t know who moved first because clearly neither of us had the will to fight this.
And it’s perfect.