2. - RAFAEL -
two
- RAFAEL -
A nother damn line. There’s always a line now. Luis is telling far too many people about this café. That man has lips that are far too loose for a spy.
I sigh as I stand outside Brewtiful Mornings, hands stuffed in my jacket pockets. It wasn’t that early, barely 8 a.m., and that morning rush came on with full force. Unfortunately, Luis wasn’t wrong about this place—their coffee was strong, the pastries were addictive, and their breakfast wraps were a cure-all for whatever ailed you in the morning.
No, the problem wasn’t the café. The problem was admitting Luis was right. Which is why I will never tell him I came here. Thankfully he didn’t either as a night owl.
When I finally shuffled my way to the front, I rattled off my order—double espresso, egg and chorizo wrap—and stepped aside to wait. That’s when I noticed her.
She was standing near the pickup counter, looking out of place in a way that caught my eye. She wasn’t fidgeting with her phone or staring wide-eyed at the menu like most people. She just stood there, hands lightly folded, her expression calm, almost too calm for this chaos.She wore a tailored blazer over a soft blue blouse,her blacktrouserssharp and professional.
Her order was called—something fancier than I would have figured. A coffee with oat milk and an almond croissant—and she turned, giving me a polite but brief smile.
I wasn’t one to strike up random conversations, but there was something about her… not her beauty, though she was definitely beautiful. No, it was the way she didn’t quite fit in like she had a secret and was utterly comfortable in keeping it.
Before I knew it, I spoke. “First time here?”
She glanced back at me, surprised. “Is it that obvious?”
I shrugged, trying to look casual. “A little. You look like someone who usually drinks hotel coffee.”
Her lips twitched, almost a smile. “That’s a strangely specific observation.”
“It’s a shame,” I said, gesturing to her croissant. “You didn’t order the breakfast wrap. Rookie mistake.”
She chuckled softly, a sound that felt like the first warm breeze after a winter storm. “Noted for next time.”
“Let me guess,” I said, leaning lightly against the counter. “You’re new to the area. Someone recommended this place, but they forgot to warn you about the lines.”
“Pretty close,” she admitted. “I just moved here for work. It was mentioned this was the best breakfast spot, so I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.”
“And?” I asked, arching a brow.
Her croissant was still untouched in her hand, so she lifted it as if to toast and took a bite. She hummed, considering. “The food’s good. Jury’s still out on the rest.”
“That’s because you didn’t get the wrap,” I said, deadpan. “It’s so good, you wouldn't even care if they gave you a burnt coffee.”
“That so?” She said, shaking her head, “If that’s the case where’s—”
Before she could finish the employee called my name. I turned to take both the food and my drink.
“Ah, a man who practices what he teaches after all.” This time, she smiled—a real smile—and it wasbrighter than the morning sun outside. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
Instead of heading for the door like usual, I lingered. She wasstillstanding there too, looking like she wasn’t quite ready to leave. Given how busy it was, there was only one small uncleared table left, but I didn’t want to fight her over it. “Hey, have you found your favorite place to eat around here yet?”
She hesitated. Normally, I’d eat in the car or take it to the office, and her pause made me think she was the same. “Depends. Are we talking about somewhere scenic?”
“And quiet.”
Her brows lifted, amused. “Isn’t both a little too much to ask for?”
“Not with me. There’s a park a couple blocks from here,” I said. “Beats sitting in a crowd.”
She glanced at her watch, then back at the limited seating available. “Lead the way.”
We walked in comfortable silence at first, the early morning buzz of the city providing a soundtrack. She sipped her coffee, taking in the sights truly seeing everything for the first time. I felt like a lucky man who caught her before she locked into a routine.
“So, what brought you to town?” I asked, breaking the quiet.
“Work,” she said simply. “And you?”
“Same.”
She glanced at me, waiting for more.
I gave her a wry smile. “It’s not that exciting. I work security for NoxTech.”
Her brows lifted slightly, and I swore that was what her disproving face looked like. NoxTech’s CEO was so controversial he was practically a litmus test for people’s politics. Thankfully my job was to spy on , rather than for .
“Yeah. It’s mostly boring stuff—keeping facilities secure, checking personnel ID, that kind of thing.” I kept my tone casual, making it sound as mundane as possible.
Shenodded,as if filing that information away. “Sounds important.”
“Someone’s got to do it,” I conceded. “What about you?”
“I work in negotiations,” she said vaguely.
“Negotiations,” I repeated. “That sounds… diplomatic.”
Her lips curved, but she didn’t elaborate.
We reached the park, a small but well-kept green spacetuckedbetween office buildings. It was quiet, with only a few people scattered across benches or jogging along the paths. We found a spot near a fountain, where the sound of trickling water drowned out the distant hum of traffic.
She sat down first, carefully sipping on her coffee. I joined her, biting into my wrap and making a point of exaggerating how delicious it was.
“Is it really that good?” she asked, amused.
“Better than your croissant,” I said through a mouthful of food.
She shook her head, laughing softly. “You seem like a gym type that complains when food doesn’t have protein.”
My jaw dropped a bit in surprise, and I saw her head tilt as if to challenge me to disagree. “You must be truly good at your job to read people so well.”
“Thank you,” she said. Then, to my surprise, she tore off a piece of her croissant and handed it to me. “Cheat day?”
I smiled, taking it out of politeness more than conscious thought before I popped it into my mouth. All buttery and flaky. Yet, I still gave a dramatic shrug. “Not bad, but it’s no wrap.”
She laughed again, a sound that was starting to feel addictive. “You are an exceedingly good liar.”
After a chuckle, I leaned back on the bench looking out at the park. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Monica,” she said. “And you?”
“Rafael,” I replied before finally glancing back at her. Damn, Brewtiful Mornings made me a sap.
“Nice to meet you, Rafael.”
“Likewise, Monica.”
We fell into an easy rhythm after that, talking about the city, the places for a ‘real meal’, and the worst places for traffic. She had a sharp wit and a way of deflecting personal questions that I recognized immediately. It was thekind ofskill you only picked up in certain lines of work—where privacy was currency.
As we finished our food, she pulled out her phone. “I should probably head to the office soon. But… it was nice talking to you.”
“Same here,” I said. “I hope I’ll see you around.”
She hesitated, then held out her phone. “Here. Put your number in. In case I have any more breakfast-related questions.”
I smirked, taking her phone and typing in my number. “Feel free to reach out anytime. Breakfast emergencies are not my only specialty.”
She smiled, tucking her phone away. “Good to know. See you around, Rafael.”
“See you, Monica.”
As she walked away, I watched her go, a strange mix of curiosity and amusement swirling in my chest. I didn’t know much about her, but something told me this wasn’t the last time our paths would cross. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was looking forward to bragging to Luis about it all.