Page 1 of Hot in the City
Monday
Your eyes meet mine, then retreat
Softness behind glass
Let me break your barriers
The poem on the blackboard enticed her to enter. Just like every day. Each afternoon when Beth escaped work for a few minutes’ peace. Someone jostled her shoulder as they opened the door to her left and a waft of rich, aromatic deliciousness teased her senses. Melbourne’s finest single origin fair trade caffeine goodness and other indulgent treats.
But first, a new mini-poem greeted her. Today’s was sweet – a tentative love story. The poems added a sparkling glint of spring sunshine to her days, assisted by delicious coffee and the even more delicious-looking man behind the counter.
She let her imagination run rampant, standing on the footpath, rubbing her icy fingertips together to ward off the chill breeze whipping through the city street. She read the poem again, the distinctive cursive script etched on the A-frame board adding an artistic touch.
The poems were written for her. It was him, he was the poet. ‘Hot café guy’. Or on her more creative days, the Dragon Master, after his distinctive forearm tattoo. But she knew his real name after so many months. The barista, Samuel. She imagined he watched her the way she watched him, quietly, inconspicuously enjoying the view.
Ridiculous. A proper nutjob. As if he’d notice me, average in every way. Average height and weight, maybe a tad skinny, weak chai latte skin, light blue eyes. Long, strawberry blonde curls were her only noticeable feature. And she was old . . . thirty-eight was a dinosaur in today’s online insta-dating scene.
Palm pressing into cold glass, the heavy wooden framed door opened, and she stepped into comforting warmth. She looked down at the intricate square of mosaic tiles beneath her feet, a creative welcome mat, as the old-fashioned bell above the door jingled. Raising her head, her gaze locked on him.
Samuel, dark and brooding, held court behind the streamlined Art Deco espresso machine, chatting with two older women. Beth wasn’t the only customer to fall under his spell.
“Really, Sam-u-elle?” asked the plumper of the two. “A new coffee for me to try? But I like mine hot, dark and sweet, just like my men.”
Samuel whispered something too low for Beth to hear, then shook his head, treating both women to a cheeky wink. They soon left, laughing like schoolgirls, the older grey-haired lady fanning her face theatrically.
Beth approached the counter, aware of his every movement. Samuel steamed milk under the chrome nozzle, his biceps exposed by a tight black t-shirt. She was a dirty old woman, ogling his strong jaw shadowed with stubble, and the tattooed dragons and Celtic style crosses intertwined down his muscular, tanned arms.
She had to be ten years older. God, maybe fifteen. A cougar, much as she hated to admit it. If not already a crazy cat lady.
He turned and flicked his long black hair, dark eyes alight when he smiled. Bubbles of frothy pleasure rose in her belly. He’d noticed her.
“Beth.” He smiled again, that smile could melt chocolate from one hundred paces. “I’m just making your usual latte. I’ll bring it over to you.”
“Thanks, Samuel.” She ducked behind the espresso machine and rolled her eyes at herself. Did she have to sound so breathy and fan-girlish whenever she spoke to him?
She crossed the checkerboard black and white tiles, then dumped her oversize leather handbag on her usual table, grabbing her favourite notebook and pen from the inner pocket. The city street view was great for people-watching. Capturing whatever details popped into her mind, feeding her hobby as a writer. The words appeared in her head and poured onto the page like liquid dreams. She was never short of inspiration here.
Samuel stalked across the tiles towards her, silent and graceful as a big cat. But she was aware of him. Oh, so aware. Her skin prickled at the back of her neck and goose bumps raced down her arms as he neared. He placed the red glossy cup and saucer on the scrubbed pine table. There was an elegant heart and swirl in the coffee foam. And a delectable chocolate truffle on the side.
“Enjoy.” His smile beamed like shimmering sunlight through the leadlight windows by the café door. She blinked slowly, soaking up his attention. Once he’d turned away, she jotted the shimmering description down. That was damned good.
Why did inspiration hit so often when he was near?
The bell jingled, almost distracting her from the drool-worthy sight of Samuel walking away, his slim black jeans fitting sublimely. A group of university students entered, chattering over tablet computers and library books as they settled into one of the red leather booths. A couple of the girls batted eyelashes in Samuel’s direction, but he didn’t seem to notice.
Before long, she had a page of notes and her half-hour break was up. Sooner than she’d like, as usual. Draining the dregs of her coffee, she made the most of the last morsel of her truffle. Licking her fingers, she glanced up to find Samuel watching. Great, he probably thought she had disgusting table manners now.
Except, the way he’d watched her with glittering black diamond eyes said something else entirely. He looked ... hungry.
Whoa. She didn’t need that look fanning the flames of her hot and steamy thoughts.
Fossicking in her purse, she struck gold. She counted out enough coins to cover her bill and stacked them neatly in the middle of the table. With a little extra as a tip, for him. Her muse.
Tuesday
Divine indulgence
Awaits the brave
