Page 105 of The Wedding Run
He shakes his head. “You have to decide.”
And I suspect he means more than simply what type of milk.
The front door to The Brew opens a few inches, and Roxie’s arm slips inside to flip the sign to ‘Closed.’ Then she waves through the window, leaving Luke and me completely alone.
My eyes shift toward him as he turns the corner of the counter, moving toward me.
“You’re not going to offer any tips?” I ask.
“I’ve already told you,” he says, reminding me exactly what he told me in the sanctuary. “But I don’t have any allergies if that helps.”
“So, I can use octopus ink.”
He laughs. “Not if you want to win.”
His closeness electrifies me. “You don’t trust me?”
“Implicitly. I’m here if you need help. Or a fire extinguisher.”
A bit shaky, I start making a latte. But suddenly, I stop. I remember what Luke has always told me. He’s a simple guy. He likes simple things. My gut tells me he prefers his coffee plain, nothing added. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of that before.
I shift gears and pour a cup of coffee from the pot Roxie made earlier. I wrap my hands around the ceramic cup and offer it to him. He takes it, curling his long fingers around mine before I can pull away. When my gaze meets his, I see the lingering, hopeful question in his eyes.
“Well?” I ask.
“You win,” he says.
“You haven’t even tasted it.”
“I don’t need to. It could be instant, and you’d still win. I knew the winner the first time I saw you, Libby.” His words make my insides flutter and expand.
“I’m an amateur,” I say.
“Aren’t we all?” he asks.
“Until we get it right,” I add.
He sets the cup aside and grabs an apron off a hook on the wall. He loops it over my head and wraps the long straps around my waist, tugging me closer and closer and closer. He ties a bow, his knuckles skimming my abdomen, making my knees weak.
We’re so close that I can smell the hint of cologne on his skin and minty toothpaste on his breath.
“You didn’t try the coffee,” I say, not the slightest bit disappointed.
“Roxie made it. But you poured it very nicely. Besides, I have something else to do first.” He leans in, angling his mouth toward mine, but before our lips touch, he says, “I should make the coffee in our relationship from now on.”
“That’s an argument I’ll let you win.” I can’t help but smile.
“Lavender,” he says, his thumb gliding along my jawline. “That’s what you like.”
“How’d you know?”
“I pay attention.”
“So, you make the coffee, and I’ll make unicorn pancakes.”
“Is that a thing?”
“Just you wait.”
