Chapter Seven
(Sabrina)
It was a beautiful, sunny morning, and Society was packed to the brim with customers. Sabrina made drinks as fast as she could, but still found herself checking the door every time it chimed open.
She gave a small huff, deciding she was done waiting for Mr. GQ to come in, and focused harder on the drinks in front of her. The door chimed again, and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to look at the door, determined not to think about climbable sexy Italian men.
“Good morning!” Marie’s cheery voice greeted the newcomer.
“Nothing good about it.” A rough voice grumbled.
Sabrina knew that voice. She looked up to see Tom Crawford, tall and lanky, standing in the shop's doorway.
He wore thick denim jeans and a Carhartt jacket.
One of his work boots had a small hole in the side with burn marks around it, and the steel toe was partially visible.
His skin was bronzed and slightly aged. His dark waist-length hair was tied back in a knot at the base of his skull with a leather strap, and a large turquoise pendant peaked out from the neckline of a plaid shirt.
Tom had kind but perpetually sad eyes, and a haggard look about his face.
“Rough night?” Marie asked sympathetically.
Tom rubbed a grease stained hand over exhausted eyes and gave a nod. “Can I get a bagel and cheese?” He asked.
“Of course!” Marie nodded. “Anything to drink?”
“Out of money.” Tom shrugged.
Marie pursed her lips. “On me.”
Tom scowled. “I didn’t ask for free anything.” He gruffed.
“You didn’t, and it’s not. Next time I need something welded I’ll come find you.” Marie waved a hand dismissively. “I can cover a cup of coffee, but I don't own a blow torch.”
Tom ran a hand down his face once more and grunted. “I'll make that trade. Thanks.”
Marie nodded as she began to make the sandwich. “No problem.” She answered.
As he walked further down the counter to pay, Sabrina began to smell the booze rolling off Tom in waves. She wordlessly filled up a cup of water and handed it to him before pouring his coffee.
Tom chugged the water in seconds, returning the empty cup when Sabrina gave him the coffee.
“Would you like another water, Tom?” Sabrina asked.
Tom Crawford shook his head. “I'm all set. Appreciate it.”
He walked out the door a minute later, wolfing down the bagel, a hot coffee in hand.
“Did the card go through this time?” Sabrina asked as she watched the man walk away.
“No. He used a Market Basket gift card in the card reader.”
Sabrina sighed, looking back at Tom’s retreating figure. “He wasn't always like this.”
Marie shook her head, looking deep in thought and somewhere else. “Life rarely goes the way we plan, does it?” She murmured. Marie reached up to touch her necklace, toying the small golden pendant between her fingers absentmindedly.
She let out a quiet sigh and cleared her expression, looking back at Sabrina. “You covered him last time. I’ve got this one.”
Sabrina frowned, but nodded in agreement.
“You know, if he’d just take care of himself he wouldn't be half bad to look at.” Marie grinned.
“Absolutely not.” Sabrina muttered. “No!”
“What?” Marie asked, eyes twinkling mischievously.
“It's Tommy.” Sabrina shook her head.
“I didn’t say I would.” Marie sniffed, a grin still tugging at her lips. “You have to be careful what you say after all, you never know what’s listening.” She waggled her brows in Sabrina's direction.
Sabrina hummed. “That sounds ominous.”
Marie smiled, as she pulled cash from her wallet. “We’ll take care of Tom, and trust the universe will take care of us. Good vibes all around.”
Marie rang up Tom’s breakfast order, then placed his receipt under the tip jar. She winked at Sabrina. “Just you wait and see, chickadee. This tip jar is going to overflow today.”
Twenty minutes later, a tour bus pulled up unannounced in the parking lot across the street, and over fifty camera clad hungry tourists filtered through Society’s doors to use the facilities and try their locally famous cinnamon rolls.
By the tenth customer, the tip jar was overflowing.
Sabrina and Marie worked quickly and methodically to make the group’s orders as fast as they could. Sabrina was buried in a sea of cold foam cups when she heard her name being called.
“Sabrina.” Marie urged from the front.
“I’m almost caught up, I swear we had like five double-blended with foamed milk in a row.” She muttered back.
“He’s here.” Marie whispered. “Do you want to switch spots?”
Sabrina cast a glance at the doors, and sure enough, GQ was standing towards the front of the line, his gaze fixed directly on her. She gave him a faint smile and turned to Marie. “No.”
“You can talk to him more if you’re up front.” Marie prompted with a wry grin.
Sabrina nodded. “Which is exactly why I’m standing here.” She pointedly ignored the man.
Marie snorted. “Okay.”
They continued to work their way through the line, and Sabrina concentrated on the drinks in front of her. If she messed up any of them, she would have to start all over again, which would only delay her further.
“Good morning.” Cesare’s deep voice addressed Marie at the front.
“Good morning!” She answered cheerfully. Sabrina continued to pointedly ignore them.
“Is it always this busy in here?” He asked. “It looks like a mob hit this place.”
Marie shook her head ruefully. “A tour bus just arrived, so we’re doing our best to take care of everyone. But as you can see, the line is out the door.” She shrugged her shoulders.
“Do you need any help?” He asked. Marie gave him a smile and shook her head. “We can manage, but thank you. Would you like a cinnamon roll?”
“I would, thank you.” He answered.
Sabrina put a lid on top of a Frappuccino and placed it on the counter. “Order for Mike!” She shouted out. She then turned in Cesare’s direction and sighed. “It’s good to see you, and I’m glad you came, but we’re swamped. I can’t really talk now.”
Cesare gave her an evaluating look before rolling his sleeves up and walking around the counter.
“What are you doing?” Sabrina asked, raising a brow.
Cesare went straight to the hand sink behind Sabrina and washed his hands. She caught a waft of a musky, woodsy cologne as he grabbed a spare apron hanging on the bread rack beside the sink. He deftly tied it behind his back as he met Sabrina’s questioning gaze.
“I am helping.” Cesare shrugged nonchalantly. “How do you think I paid for things during college?”
Sabrina blinked. “You were a barista?”
“I was a busboy and then I was a bouncer.” He leaned in closely with a roguish grin that made Sabrina’s breath catch. “I was very good at following directions.”
Sabrina cast a quick glance at Marie, who simply grinned and turned to face the next customer.
“And here I thought you liked to be the one giving orders.” Sabrina mused out loud.
“Oh, I enjoy it thoroughly.” Cesare’s voice was low, and his eyes slightly hooded as he looked her over. “But we’re in your wheelhouse now.” He took a step back, creating a respectful distance and making a more serious expression.
“Just because you’re capable of doing it on your own doesn’t mean you have to. And rumor has it the job comes with free cinnamon rolls.” Cesare grinned.
“You are too persuasive for your own good.” Sabrina muttered. “Any tickets that make sense, feel free to make; anything you’re unsure about, give to me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, reaching an arm around her as he pointedly brushed the side of her hip. “I’ll just be taking this ticket here.”
Sabrina turned her back to him in response, trying to ignore the tingles shooting down her side from where he had touched her. She faced the crowd once more and returned to making drinks, fervently hoping that this would end well.
The next hour was a flurry of movement as the three of them fell into a comfortable rhythm, and orders were filled much faster than they could have hoped to do on their own.
The tour group eventually finished moving through, and the rush of customers dwindled back down to the locals, military, and the occasional tourist.
Sabrina watched Cesare as he worked quickly, methodically, and with ease. She found herself watching his hands for the simple pleasure of enjoying the way they moved, and more than once caught herself wondering how they would feel on her body.
Cesare’s phone rang frequently, and he typically pulled it out, forwarded it to voicemail, and immediately returned to the task at hand. Occasionally he would answer, say his name, and then listen with a few grunts interspersed here and there.
The whole time, he was accurately making and finishing the orders he had chosen from the queue. He was, it seemed, a man who could multitask.
Sabrina snorted at the thought, drawing a curious look from Cesare. She gave a rueful shake of her head. When he silently hung up the phone, he leaned in with a twinkle in his eye. “I can see the wheels turning in your head, Sabrina.” He muttered in her ear.
“My thoughts are none of your business.” She answered lightly, scrawling a new name on the cup in her hands.
“Is that so?” He asked in the same unaffected tone.
“It is.” She nodded, a smile playing on her lips.
“Hmm. We'll see about that.” Cesare answered with a heated look, slowly undressing her with his eyes.
Sabrina flushed. “I need to focus.” She murmured. “I don't want to mess any of these up.”
“You do good work. You should be proud.” He nodded.
Sabrina frowned in concentration. “You’re distracting me.
” She softly chided. She turned away to grab the cold foam and filled the rest of the cup before returning to double-check the order ticket.
Cesare handed her a caramel dispenser bottle just as she turned around to look for it, and Sabrina accepted it with furrowed brows and an avoidant gaze.
Cesare looked at the line still going out the door, then back to Sabrina. “If you prefer space, I can go.”