Bonus Epilogue
QUINN
It’s almost closing time and there’s no sign of anyone on the streets so I slip my ear buds into my ears and start cleaning up around the shop.
There are a few unfinished drinks left on one of the tables, so I grab those and head back toward the kitchen, but when I turn I ram straight into a wall of hard muscle, splashing coffee all down the front of his shirt.
The fabric clings to his well defined chest and abs. When I realize I’m staring, I jump back with my hands up and my mouth agape.
The man speaks but I can’t hear him over the Dear Evan Hansen soundtrack, and with my wet hands, I can’t reach up and pull my headphones out without getting coffee all over me, so I make a vague gesture to my ears and shake my head.
His expression shifts to one of recognition and he starts signing but he’s moving too fast for me to make sense of it.
“One second.” I hold up one finger and hop onto the counter laying my belly flat against the surface to reach under and grab a few wet wipes. Once my hands are clean, I pull out my headphones. “Sorry. I only caught about three words. I’m still learning ASL.”
“Oh. I’m not deaf,” he says. “I just assumed you were.”
“Nope. Just distracted.” I let out a nervous laugh and that’s when I remember I just doused this man in somebody’s leftover coffee. “Oh. My god.” Flustered, I rush behind the counter and grab a stack of napkins. “Let me help you clean up.”
I start to pat his chest and manage to drop most of the napkins in the process, so there’s little more than a single ply tissue between me and the man’s nipples. Which are hard. By the way. Probably because it was iced coffee. “Get it together, Quinn,” I mutter.
The man laughs this rich, hearty laugh that settles right in the pit of my stomach. “I’m fine. I can take it from here. In fact, let me just…”
He does that one handed thing, reaching behind his back to pull off his shirt in one fell swoop and I… might be drooling.
I should probably tell him there’s a policy requiring clothing in this shop, but nobody else is here and I’m not complaining. By all means, take off the pants next.
He glances between me and the menu board because, duh, Quinn, you work here and he probably came in for coffee.
“Did you still want to order something? On the house. Not on you.” I laugh at my own joke then silently curse myself for being so annoying.
He smiles with perfect white teeth and full lips. “What’s your favorite drink?”
“My favorite?” I pick up a stir stick and nervously twirl it between my fingers. “I like the bonfire latte with extra whip and extra chocolate.”
His lips tip up at one corner. “Sounds great.”
There’s an awkward silence while I make his drink and I can feel his eyes on me the whole time. I really need to get better at small talk, but that’s never been my forte.
Normally I’d ask for a name to write on the cup, but he’s the only one in here so it doesn’t really matter. Maybe I should’ve asked anyway so I know it for next time.
With the way things are going, I doubt there will be a next time. He’ll probably steer clear of the nervous girl who spills coffee on her customers and inadvertently fondles their nipples.
Stop thinking about nipples, Quinn. Of all the hyper fixations in the world, you had to choose a stranger's nipples. I truly hate my brain sometimes.
I shake an extra thick layer of chocolate shavings onto the whipped topping then secure the lid on the to-go cup and slide it across the counter.
His whole hand engulfs the cup with pronounced veins running along the back of his palm and his fingernails painted black. He’s wearing several silver rings on his fingers and to hell with his nipples, now I can’t stop thinking about those hands.
He brings the cup to his mouth and takes a sip, his tongue peeking out to lick the foam off his lip. His eyes lock on mine. “Mm. Sweet. Figures.”
He swings the soaked shirt over his shoulder and pulls a ten dollar bill out of his pocket, sliding it into the tip jar. “See you later, Tink.”