Page 2 of Bittersweet

Whipped cream on theside.

Please?

“Oh, just the usual. A latte, maybe amuffin. . .”

“Coming right up. One latte, and maybe a muffin.” Elio winks. We both know there’s no maybe aboutit.

The coffee machine clunks into life as he steps behind it, and I walk farther into the room, stopping in front of the bookshelf in the far corner. Preloved books are stacked high, one on top of the other, and I pick up the closest, an old green leather-bound volume ofPride and Prejudice.I flick through the pages, then place it down, reaching for the next book on the pile.Fifty Shades ofGrey.

I chance a quick look over my shoulder. Elio’s eyes are still trained on the coffee machine, not focused on me atall.

I flick the book open, my back to the counter, landing on a page somewhere in the middle. I’ve always wanted to readthis.

“How’s work?” Elio asks over the throb of themachine.

“Oh, you know, worky.”Worky? Really,Romy?

Elio doesn’t reply. He’s probably so blinded by the brilliance of my response he’s at a loss forwords.

I glance down at the pages of the book again. Holy shit, it’s as hot as they say it is. And now I’m blushing for an entirely differentreason.

“You doing a little lightreading?”

I look up. Elio’s staring right atme.

No.

He’s staring right at the erotic romance in myhand.

“What? No. That’s not . . . it just jumped off the shelf. I barely even touched it.” I shove the book back, but damn it, it won’t fit. I push the paperback into the corner, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to slide it back into its original spot. “I’ll just . . . push . . .” I grunt. Stupid book. My cheeks, my chest, they’re burning up.Soembarrassing.

Elio just laughs and walks across the café to my side. He takes the book from my hand, and slides it back in place, as if it wasn’t a challenge at all. He grabs a worn hardback from the pile and hands it to me. “Try this one. I think you’ll likeit.”

I take the book from his hand and run my fingers over the embossed spine.Crime andPunishment.

Riding crops. Whips and chains. Crime andpunishment.

Oh, what I’d give to explore this topicmore.

But of course, Idon’t.

I may have the biggest crush in the world on the barista who works downstairs, but I know the type of women men like him attract. Beautiful.Sexy.

Skinny.

And while I’m not some hideous monster, I just can’t compete withthat.

I change the topic, willing the flames in my cheeks to die down. “You know most people have e-readers these days,right?”

He wrinkles his nose. “E-readers?Sacrilege.”

“You prefer musty old books that previously belonged to God knows who, doing God knowswhat?”

“Of course. That’s what gives them character; it’s what gives them life. Besides, you can’t improve onperfection.”

I turn the book over in my hand. “Perfection,huh?”

“Mmm.” His eyes meet mine. I could easily get lost in them. I swallow hard, and Elio shakes his head. “Your coffee’s gettingcold.”

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