No. 15 Sleep under the stars #2
He keeps good on his promise, pulling his truck up to my door and leaning over to kiss me goodbye with promises of seeing me later and I’m dancing in the clouds by the time I make it inside the cottage.
Heathcliff is still with Eli, as August had dropped both the animals off with him before we left yesterday, so the house feels oddly empty, which probably explains why I greet Pedro instead.
“Miss me?” I ask my smiling phallus with a pat to his…head.
It’s early enough that I could probably get another hour’s sleep in before I have to shower and open the café, but I don’t feel like I need any more rest. So, I jump in the shower and sing some Dolly Parton while I wash, smiling to myself and occasionally giggling like a weirdo.
The happy feeling doesn’t dissipate as I open up the café an hour early and decide to make fresh scones for today’s service.
The café has been open for weeks now but I decide as I roll out the dough, I’m going to do the big opening.
Next week there’s a bus load of tourists coming to take in the village, enjoy the hikes and the boutiques, so I’ll do it then.
I didn’t move here to find love, and I didn’t need a man to make this new venture worthwhile, but everything seems clearer today than it had.
I don’t know if that was the night spent beneath the stars, listening to the breeze in the leaves, and peeing in a bush or if it’s the words exchanged with the man who told me he was proud of me.
Only one other person has ever said that to me and Cas has always been the single most important relationship in my life.
With August’s pride and his love protecting me from the things I was worrying about, I can see how much I’m actually enjoying my life here.
I can see how amazing it is I’ve opened my own business, that I’ve done more fun, exciting things for the pure hell of it in the last six months than I did for the first thirty years of my life.
I look around The Reading Nook Café and smile.
My beautiful mural makes me so happy, and I swear every time I look at it, I find new things to admire.
The bookshelves August built me, the dark wood mirroring the forest in Joanie’s painting and the trees that surrounded us last light.
Under the glass kloshes on the counter are the brownies and cookies Connor helped me bake yesterday while we laughed as he told me about his recent escapades at school.
My bookshelves have been added to by Ruth, who wanted to ‘broaden my horizons’ as she put it.
I was shocked when she brought in a few books I already had but kept home because I thought they were too spicy to go out in my cute little village café.
This place is home, more than London ever felt despite being born and raised in the grit and smog of the city. And yeah, I’m going to do my grand opening a month after I started opening every day.
The café is full by nine, the villagers taking great joy in coming in to get there morning coffee from me to start their day.
Ruth and a gaggle of similarly aged ladies are cackling away in the corner like a bunch of rowdy teenagers, their matching white heads dipping low to speak in hushed tones—well, as hushed as their hearing aids will allow—and then all throwing back in raucous laughter every couple of minutes.
Mrs Baker and Mrs Butcher sit together nibbling on cake and tea and two older gentleman I’m pretty sure are a couple sit in the corner bickering over a crossword.
This really is my dream. I know it’s August coming through the door when the bell chimes without having to look up, just by the amount of light his massive body blocks.
The tingling in my belly also lets me know he’s near and I’m smirking as I wipe down the counter, refusing to look up until he’s right in front of me, towering over me whilst leaning on the opposite side of the counter.
“May I help you?” I ask blinking up at him innocently.
“Coffee, please,” he says quietly.
“Sure,” I chirp in my best customer service voice. “Latte, right? Two pumps of vanilla, one caramel and extra whipped cream?”
One heavy brow peaks in the middle, his lips pressed hard together in an obvious attempt not to smile.
I sigh. “Guess not, black americano?”
“Thank you, sunshine.” His voice is all low and thickly sweet like the caramel he desperately doesn’t want tainting his coffee.
For some reason, I suddenly become aware of the ache in my core that still lingers from his cock.
His thick, long, monster cock. The one he had inside me last night by the babbling brook while I wore a butt plug.
I swallow hard and August smirks hard like he knows exactly what I’m thinking of, which makes me throw my tea towel at him, much to his amusement.
I make his coffee, automatically putting it in a to go cup and placing it on the counter.
He taps his card and leans over the counter planting a soft but lingering kiss on my lips.
When we pull apart, August’s warm honey eyes go wide like he’s surprised he just kissed me, then he drops his head in something akin to frustration or disappointment and my tummy makes an anxious flip.
August groans and slowly turns his head.
I nearly jump when I follow his line of sight and find Ruth leaning against the counter next to him, grinning maniacally.
“Good morning, darling,” she croons to him. “This is a fun development.”
“Ruth,” August rumbles in a disgruntled greeting
“And how long has this been…official?” Ruth’s blue eyes shine with glee as she waves a hand between us.
“You and your gossip biddies can go find someone else to speculate about, we’re not doing this,” he tells her swiping his coffee from the counter.
“How dare you,” she says incredulously. “I do not gossip. I share important information.”
“Mmhmm,” August hums. “Well, share something else, Ruth.” He walks to the door and I’m chewing on my lip, worrying he regrets inadvertently taking us public, but when he swings the door open, he gives me a wink over his shoulder that has me smiling.
“Well,” Ruth says with a satisfied grin. “It’s about time that boy let himself feel again.”
With that, she saunters away before I can ask what she means.