Page 36 of Colliding with the Coffee Shop Owner
I pull back, crossing my arms. "Just cold," I lie.
His mouth quirks up at one corner, seeing through me instantly. "Lily." Just my name, but spoken with such certainty that I have to meet his eyes. "Take a breath. Nothing's going to happen tonight that you're not ready for."
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly. "I didn't think?—"
"You did." His smile is gentle now, though no less potent. "And I'm not sorry for finally telling you what I want." He strikes a match, lighting the first candle with deliberate focus. "I've waited too long to pretend I don't feel this." The flame illuminates the angles of his face, casting shadows that emphasize the intensity of his gaze. "But I am patient. Very patient, when something matters."
The way he says it—like I'm something precious to be savored rather than rushed—sends a different kind of heat through me, one that warms rather than burns.
"I've found that control is essential," he continues, lighting another candle, his movements precise, measured. "In all things worth having."
The words sink in slowly, then all at once. My breath catches as understanding crystallizes. The dominance in his stance, the careful restraint in his touch, his talk of appetites and desires—they weren't just heated words in the moment.
This is who he is.
What he wants.
What he needs.
Max Lawson—my quiet, brilliant regular with his coffee order I could recite in my sleep—is telling me exactly who he is beneath that composed exterior.
My cheeks flush hot, but not from embarrassment. Something primal stirs in response, a recognition I wasn't prepared to feel. The thought of surrendering control to him sends a liquid warmth through me that has nothing to do with the candles he's lighting. I've never thought about power dynamics beyond the occasional fantasy, but the steady assurance in his hands as they perform this simple task makes me wonder what those same hands could coax from me if I let them.
His eyes flick to mine, catching me watching him. Something knowing passes across his features—he sees my reaction, reads it like it's written in neon across my face.
I turn away abruptly, needing space to process this revelation. "The good news is, we have plenty of food," I announce, my voice slightly higher than normal as I busy myself cataloging the day's unsold pastries and sandwiches. "And obviously, no shortage of coffee."
The mundane words feel ridiculous after what just passed between us, but they give me a lifeline back to normalcy, a moment to catch my breath and consider what I want—and whether what I want terrifies me more than it excites me.
"What about the generator?" Max asks, following me to the utility closet. The way he says it—casual, professional—tells me he's giving me the space I need.
For now.
"Eight hours at full capacity. Longer if we're conservative." I check the fuel gauge, frowning slightly. "Though it hasn't had maintenance in... a while."
"Define 'a while'."
"Two years, give or take."
Max's eyebrows rise. "That's not ideal."
"I've been busy."
"Want me to take a look? I'm decent with engines."
I hesitate, weighing my independence against practicality. "You know how to service a generator?"
"My father was a mechanical engineer before he lost his job." He says this without self-pity, a simple statement of fact. "I grew up rebuilding engines with him. Generators are pretty straightforward by comparison."
I step aside, gesturing toward the machine. "Be my guest."
While Max examines the generator, I continue preparing for a night of sheltering in place. The shop's back office has a comfortable couch where I sometimes nap during busy seasons. With blankets and pillows, it will serve as our sleeping quarters for the night.
The intimacy of these preparations—gathering blankets, creating a makeshift bed we'll have to share—feels weighted with implications I'm not ready to face. The kiss lingers between us, unacknowledged but impossible to forget.
"You need a new air filter," Max calls from the utility closet. "And the oil should be changed. But I can get it running more efficiently with what's here."
"There should be basic maintenance supplies on the shelf above," I call back, arranging candles strategically around the shop.
