Chapter Text
“Flynn?” Tae’s voice breaks into my concentration, where I’m pulling shots for two different drinks at the same time.
“Yeah?” I ask, busy with my task.
“This lady would like to speak to you.” Her voice is icily polite, so signaling trouble. I turn away from the machine, and to a small woman at the counter. She’s a regular, and she’s been nothing but a pain in the arse. Her drink is always too hot, too cold, too sweet, not enough whip. I swear I can’t win.
“Yes? How can I help you?” I ask in my best customer service voice. Having a British accent helps a lot here, let me tell you.
She smiles up at me, but I’m not fooled. “I forgot to ask, does this mocha have three shots of espresso? I can’t have that, my doctor says no more than two a day. You never put more than two in.”
She’s been coming in at least three times a week for the last couple months. Our large drinks have had three shots since we opened five years ago. She’s asked us about them twice, if not more. “Our larges do have three shots, love. Mediums have two.”
She frowns. “But I asked for two.”
No you bloody well didn’t, I think. Instead, I put on my best smile, and she stops frowning. “I’m terribly sorry about that. Let me fix your drink.” She hands it over with a triumphant smirk. I’m sure she’s thinking I’m going to remake it. I turn and go to the sink, where I pour out a third of it. I find a fresh lid and pop it on, and slide it across the counter. “There you go! Should be safe now! Next time ask for a medium or tell us two shots, and we’ll be happy to make it that way for you.”
“Well, I never!” She says, snatching up the cup and stomping out of the shop.
Tae is laughing behind the register. “Flynn! You didn’t!”
“I most certainly did,” I answer, and go back to slinging drinks. Thankfully, there’s a lull, letting me finish them, and giving Tae time to get back under control. By the time I’m cleaning the steam wand she’s leaning against the counter, watching me.
“You’re too much.” Tae stops laughing, and pushes back from the counter. “I need to grab more beans. Speaking of, aren’t you needing to make that special coffee?”
I glance up at the clock. “I am indeed. Mr. Gorgeous is due soon.” I sigh, thinking of the handsome lawyer that frequents Harbormaster’s Coffee, the shop I manage, every weekday morning. “He’s not going to be happy when I give him the bad news.”
“Better you than me. At least he smiles for you.” Tae pats my arm sympathetically, and disappears into the back.
I turn to the small grinder on the counter, and measure out one medium coffee’s worth of Guatemala Finca El Injerto-Bourbon. Like most pour-overs, I can grind the beans by sight, and they don’t take long. I set the filter in the cup, and finish pouring the last of the water into it right as Mr. Mathias Shaw, corporate attorney, and highlight of my day, walks in. I’ve perfected getting an eyeful of him without it being obvious. As always, he’s dressed in a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, his copper hair just slightly mussed, and a pointy mustache that would look ridiculous on anyone else. He’s probably six inches shorter than me, a slim frame, as opposed to my large one, and as always, I wonder if he’s interested in men.
“Good morning, Mathias,” I say, offering up his cup of black coffee with a flourish. That earns me a slice of a smile, and I try to ignore the fluttering of my heart as he takes it, and our fingers brush.
“Morning, Flynn. Busy as always?” He asks politely. He has his credit card in the hand not holding his cup, always ready to pay.
“Yup, pretty much a regular Monday.” I hand over the card and receipt, and he picks takes them, then picks up his briefcase. Our mornings are often little more than this sort of conversation, but I look forward to them every damn weekday. Then I remember I need to speak with him. “Mathias, a moment.”
He turns back to me, green eyes inquisitive. I try not lose myself in them. “Yes?”
“Bad news, mate. The supplier that provides the Injerto-Bourbon has a problem. They aren’t able to provide any more for a while; I guess the plantation they source it from had a bad crop. And since it’s popular here, we’ll run out soon. I wanted to give you a heads up, as it’s your drink of choice.”
It might be my imagination, but it seems like Mathias deflates a tiny fraction. I wish I didn’t have to give him the news, but I didn’t want to do him dirty. “To be honest, it’s not my absolute favorite.”
“Oh?” That’s an interesting revelation.
“No. I don’t mind drinking this coffee black.”
An idea occurs to me. “If you only drink it because it’s tolerable black, why don’t I help you find something else? An alternative of sorts? I’m sure I can come up with the perfect replacement.”
Mathias tilts his head, and I can almost see him considering my offer. Then he shakes his head. “I can’t have you do that. You’re occupied managing this place, and mornings are always busy. Helping me with a drink would take too much time.”
“Mate, that’s what I do. My job is to find the drink that best fits the person.”
I must have something in my expression, because I can see the moment Mathias relents. “All right. I suppose it won’t hurt to try a few drinks, especially if you’re as good as you claim you are.”
I scoff. “I’m better.”
He raises an eyebrow, and damned if I don’t blush at the accidental double entendre I just spit out. I watch him sip his coffee, and then he salutes me with it. I can’t help but grin as he turns and walks out of the shop. And tides forsake me, the man has a perfect arse in that suit.
***
I’ve nearly bounced all over behind the counter this morning, thinking about what kind of drink to make Mathias. A half dozen ideas have come through my head, only to be rejected for one reason or another, and I think I might have a solid choice. His regular coffee is quite strong, not all that unlike the cold brew that’s a common favorite among the underpaid interns of the financial district we’re in. We serve gallons of the stuff, over ice, but I swear, Cyrus would make a mint if we could find a way to offer it intravenously.
I decide a large is probably a bit much, even for a high-powered lawyer, and settle on a medium. In goes the ice and the coffee, and before I fill it fully, I pause, thinking. Mathias didn’t say he was against milk, only that he didn’t mind the Injerto-Bourbon black. I leave some space and duck down to the under-counter cooler, pushing aside pitchers of lemonade and iced tea. There’s the half-and-half. I pour some in a cup, add some vanilla, and stir well. There, a touch of sweetness and cream to offset any bitter taste.
As I’m pouring it into the top of the drink, Tae leans around me. “What’s next, whipped cream and sprinkles, Flynn?”
I scoff. “You know I never put whipped cream on iced drinks unless someone asks, love. And besides, we don’t have sprinkles. This is a classy joint.”
She snorts. “A classy place would never hire us.” She moves to the register, where someone’s waiting.
“See what nepotism will do for you?” I set the coffee aside. Mathias should be in at any moment.
Several customers line up, so I’m working on drinks when I see him come through the door. I raise a hand in greeting, and see him nod, and then it’s back to work. No one’s confused us for a standard chain coffee shop, so nothing’s overly complicated, and I make the drinks in a hurry. Mr. Gorgeous is standing to one side, briefcase at his feet, watching me make drinks. I try not to blush as I pick up his cold brew and walk out from behind the counter.
His eyebrows raise when I stop in front of him, and offer the cup. I think it’s the first time I’ve ever been this close to him, and I catch a whiff of his cologne, subtle, but spicy. He’s dressed in a forest green suit, and it makes his already green eyes even greener, his copper hair even brighter. I drag my eyes away from his, watching more broadly as he takes a sip. He frowns, and sips again, an impressed expression crossing his face.
“D’you like it?” I ask, hopeful.
He sips again. His mustache has a drop of creamy coffee in the hairs, and for a moment, I really want to lean over and lick it off. Are his lips as soft as I think they are?
“This is good,” he says slowly. He swirls the drink, watching the ice cubes move about. “I like the milk, and the vanilla. But I’m not so sure about the cold coffee.”
I tense up, feeling tightness in my neck.
Mathias reaches out, touching my arm lightly. “Thank you, Flynn. You have no idea how much I appreciate this. No one’s ever bothered to do something this kind for me before.”
My arm tingles where he’s touched me. “Not a problem, mate.”
“I have to go, I’m due in court in an hour. Would you be willing to take a late lunch with me? Perhaps about two?”
A smile creeps across my face. “I’d love to.”
“I’ll stop by then.” He slides a inside his suit jacket, I assume for his credit card, and I wave him off.
“No, on the house until we find your drink.”
He smiles for me, a small one, and my heart skips a beat. “Thank you. I’ll see you this afternoon.” He picks up his briefcase and turns, and I move back behind the counter.
Tae’s grinning like a fool as I come back. “You’re in lo-ove” she sings at me, as I go to the espresso machine.
“Am not,” I argue. “I hardly know the bloke.” I’m still smiling though, I can feel it, which doesn’t help my case. I pick up the cups she’s written on, reading them three times to make sure I get the drinks right. At the moment, all I can think of is lunch with Mathias.
The morning passes quickly for me, although we’re short on customers. A storm moves in, and while a few people duck inside Harbormaster’s for a cup and a chance to get out of the rain, the only other patrons are the die-hard regulars. I spend most of the morning sorting out the end-of-week order, and then in the tiny office I have, doing payroll. I may have never finished my business degree at Uni, but what I did study comes in handy for managing Cyrus’s flagship store. By the time I’ve wrapped up all the managerial crap I need to deal with, it’s almost two.
I come out of the back and hang up my apron, just in time to watch Mathias come through the door. He walks to the end of the bar, watching me grab my well-loved sheepskin greatcoat and shrug it on. As I button it he’s silent, but does arch one perfect eyebrow. He’s dressed in a sleek waterproof number, with an umbrella tucked under his arm. I notice his briefcase is absent for perhaps the first time.
“There’s a small cafe just down the street that we could go to,” he says as we leave the coffee shop. “The food is good, and they shouldn’t be busy.”
“Sounds great. I’m game for anything I don’t have to make myself.”
That earns me a laugh, and we set off. Mathias promptly opens the umbrella and tries to shield me from the rain, but a gust of wind complicates that. Turns out our height difference makes sharing an umbrella awkward, so I say, “Don’t bother, mate. I’ll be fine.”
He sighs, and adjusts the umbrella to keep the rain off him. It shields him from view, which is a shame, but I’m going to hopefully have his attention for lunch, so that’ll make up for it. Unless he’s the type to spend his free time on the phone? Tides forsake me, I hope not.
The cafe isn’t far, and once we’re inside, Mathias is dropping his umbrella into a marked container, and hanging his slicker up on a peg. I hang my coat next to his and take my hair out of its ponytail, running my hands through the auburn strands to catch any stray drops. May as well let it stay loose and dry while we eat. I see Mathias watching me out of the corner of my eye.
“I could never do that, grow my hair out. My hair curls too much if it gets much longer than this,” he says, gesturing to the mussed hair I want to run my fingers through. “That, and there aren’t a lot of long-haired attorneys.”
“You mean long-haired corporate types.” I grin at him.
“Exactly.” He leads us to a corner table, and sits, his back against the wall, watching the room. I take the chair, not sure how he’d take me sitting next to him, and sprawl out. The table’s not quite big enough for four, but there’s more than enough space my long legs won’t bother him. The menus are already at the table, so I pick one up and study it. Typical cafe food: soups, salads, and sandwiches. If there weren’t a half dozen in the blocks around Harbormaster’s, we’d have a lunch lineup just like them.
I glance up, realizing Mathias is watching me, and hasn’t touched his menu. “It won’t bite,” I tease.
“I always order the same thing.”
I raise an eyebrow and go back to browsing until the server arrives. “Hey Matt, the usual?” Her words tell me a lot.
“Of course, Susan. Thank you.”
“And how about you?” she asks me.
“I’ll have the Monte Cristo with French fries, and an iced tea, please.”
“That’s the sort of lunch that will kill you,” Mathias murmurs.
I shrug as Susan leaves. “Life’s too short not to enjoy your food.”
“Speaking of enjoyment,” he says, straightening, “I’m not so sure I’m cut out for cold brew. I swear I could watch words forming as they came out of my client’s mouth today.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Sadly, no.”
“I couldn’t be a lawyer. You all look so unhappy.”
“It’s not that bad. I enjoy my work, if only because I can beat the other attorney at his own game.”
I grin. “I’m a simple person, law’s too complicated for me. I like making people the drinks they want. And besides, no one will sue me for a cup of coffee.”
Mathias raises an eyebrow, and measures out a slice of a smile. “Depends on whether or not I sleep tonight. That cold brew might be too much caffeine to sell a person.”
I laugh. “The interns don’t think so. I’ve seen them come in twice a day for large ones.”
He openly shudders. “Thank God I’m not twenty anymore.”
I’m about to ask him how old he is, when Susan arrives with our food. My Monte Cristo looks amazing, and I immediately pick it up and take a bite. It’s delicious and I close my eyes in pleasure. When I open them, I survey the difference in our lunches.
Mathias’s lunch appears to be a turkey sandwich on whole wheat, with a pile of… something. “What’s the rabbit food?”
“Some greens, diced tomato, sliced radishes, no cheese, dressed with oil and vinegar.”
I pick up a French fry. “Sounds depressing.”
That earns me a genuine laugh from him. Before I can even react, he reaches over and snags the fry from my fingers, and pops it in his mouth. All I can do is stare, open-mouthed.
He acts like nothing happened. “So, how did you end up managing a coffee shop?”
“It’s a complicated story.”
Mathias takes another one from my plate. “We have time. Unless you’d rather not?”
I shake my head, and finally eat a fry. “Oh no, I don’t mind the story. It goes back to me being at Uni. I managed to make it through three years, but I didn’t have the funds to finish. I was studying business, which helped out in the end, you see, but at the time, there was no chance of me earning my degree.”
“I’m assuming since you say Uni, you were still in England?”
“I was. I’ve only been over here five years.”
Mathias helps himself to more fries, and I go for a bite of my sandwich, trying to organize my thoughts. “So, like I said, couldn’t finish Uni, so I decided I’d hunt for something that would pay well enough to let me come back and get my degree in a few years. I was twenty-one, and the Merchant Navy was looking for more sailors. I’d grown up on the coast; I’m from Cornwall, so it appealed to me.”
“I wondered where your accent was from.”
“Now you know. I’m a country lad. So I joined up with the them. Did almost a decade of that, learning how to become a sailor. Worked all manner of positions, even considered becoming an officer. Didn’t quite qualify, although there were options for me to get the last of my degree and do it. Eventually I was training under a Master Mariner, Cyrus, who became a close friend. He was looking to retire, and to move across the pond to the US. His adopted daughter, who you know, is an American.”
“I do?”
“Sure, Tae’s from here originally. Anyway, Cyrus knows her father, and wanted her to be closer to him now that she’s an adult. He hoped they’d have a relationship. Cyrus did well as a Master Mariner, and decided to open Harbormaster’s. Why he chose a coffee shop in a land of coffee shops, I’ll never know. But I was considering leaving the Merchant Navy at that time, maybe even finish my degree, and he asked if I wanted to come along.”
“Just like that?” Mathias pauses, fry halfway to his mouth.
I nod. “Just like that. I have no family, and as much as I love Cornwall, there was nothing to keep me there. So I moved, staying with him and Tae for a few months until I found a place of my own. I started as a barista, learning right alongside Cyrus, and it turned out I had a knack for it. Cyrus turned the store over to me when he opened the second one. I’ve been manager ever since. Tae works with me for the experience, because once she’s done with Uni, she’ll be managing the one in the University District herself. It’ll help to have someone young and relatable there. Cyrus and I are far too old.”
I reach for my fries, my fingers brushing Mathias’s as he goes for one too. He smirks at me. “You can’t be that old.”
“Thirty-five last month, mate.”
“Had you not told me your timeline, I would have guessed younger.” His gaze meets mine in a challenge.
I shrug around a mouthful of sandwich, then swallow. Before I can turn the question on him, Susan appears.
“Matt, is everything okay? Did the kitchen screw up your order?”
“No Susan, everything’s fine,” he says, sparing a brief look over at her.
She points to his plate. “You haven’t touched your salad. I can remake it if you’d like.”
“No thank you. I just felt like a change but didn’t realize it until after I’d ordered.” He flicks his eyes down to the few remaining fries on my plate, and we share a smile.
She flashes him a grin. “If you want a change, I could give you my phone number.”
My heart twinges, and I try not to frown.
“That’s kind of you, really. However, I’m on a lunch date.”
“Oh, I see,” she says. Mathias picks up his plate and offers it to her, and she takes it, moving away. All I can do is stare at him. He takes another fry and watches me, green eyes unreadable.
I take another bite of my Monte Cristo, stalling for time. A lunch date? He actually called it that. Had I hit my head this morning, or were the gods answering my frequent wish that Mathias Shaw, Mr. Gorgeous, was into men?
“I didn’t realize this was a date,” I finally say, when it hits me I have to say something.
He blushes faintly, and oh, is it appealing. “I was afraid if I asked directly, I’d find out you weren’t interested in men. Lunch seemed more neutral. And then, well,” he gestured at my fries.
“Maybe I don’t mind sharing food, mate.” I can’t help but tease.
He looks appalled. “If this isn’t acceptable, I’m terribly sorry-” he begins, his carefully composed expression beginning to unravel.
A small laugh escapes. “Relax, Mathias. I share food readily, but also I’m pleased you wanted a lunch date. You’re a canny shark.”
“Attorney.”
“Same thing.”
That gets me a smile, a genuine one. By the tides, his eyes are so green, I could lose myself in them.
Somewhere in the cafe, a clock chimes once, twice, three times. Oh no. I pull my phone out of my pocket and check. It’s three o’clock. Where did the time go?
“I have to go, Tae has to go to Uni.” I reach for my wallet, but Mathias stops me with a hand on my arm.
“I have this. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
His touch is warm, and I don’t want to break contact. So I prolong the moment by leaning in with a smile. “Of course. I have to find something new for you to try.”