Page 8 of Loverboy
No, is my first reaction. And my second one, too. I do not need to turn into a quivering mass of uncertainty every day. I used to bicker with Gunnar as a way of keeping my game face on. We used to prank each other, too. But I don’t have the energy for any of that at this stage of my life.
“Posy,” he says in that hunky voice of his. “I know we didn’t always get along, but I’m a hard worker. I won’t screw this up.”
Get out of my brain. “Look,” I sigh. “How about you come in for a couple days on a trial basis? But you can’t get up to any of your old tricks. If you replace all the sugar dispensers with salt, I may not be responsible for my actions.”
He snorts. “I wouldn’t have done that if you didn’t make all my drinks wrong for an entire shift. The Shirley Temple with olives was my personal favorite.”
Teagan gasps, and then giggles. “Posy, really?”
“It was a different lifetime,” I say quickly, as my neck begins to heat. “Just kids’ pranks.”
“Totally,” he says, aiming one of those loverboy smiles at me.
I look down at his application again, just to avoid that dangerous smile. “This work history is a little thin, Gunn. What have you been doing with the rest of your time?”
“This and that.” He shrugs, and since I’m not looking him in the eye, I can only see his abs tighten.
And, wow. That’s a seriously impressive body he has. I’ll bet he spent the last decade at the gym. But now here he is, in my shop of all places? The coincidence is just strange. “Are you applying to other coffee shops?”
“Of course. I applied at Starbucks first, because they’re known for their excellent benefits. But it’s an online application. I might as well throw my resume down a well, right?” He sighs. “Besides, the coffee at Starbucks is not top quality. I’d rather work someplace that really cares about the product, you know?” He shrugs again, and I catalog the lift of his impressive shoulders. “And I’m right over on Sullivan Street. So it wasn’t hard to find this place—and there was aHelp Wantedsign right in the window! Actually—”
He turns and strides over to the window on those long, muscular legs. He plucks the sign off the glass and balls it up right in front of me. Like it’s a done deal. But I haven’t actually hired him yet! Theballson this man. I’m speechless.
He isn’t, unfortunately. “Why don’t you show me around? I’m at your disposal.” Then he takes my wadded-up sign and tosses it right into the recycling bin. It lands dead center like a perfect three-pointer at Madison Square Garden.
Teagan sighs happily. “Welcome aboard, Gunnar,” she says.
“Teagan!” I squeak at my employee. “That’smydecision, don’t you think?”
“Of course it is,” Gunnar says, leaning that rocking body against my counter. “But she won’t be wrong. I’m here to impress you. Just like old times.”
I let out a growl of displeasure. Gunnar Scott is too confident for his own good. And suddenly it’s easy to remember how you can lust after someone and also fight with them all the time. His confidence always annoyed me because I didn’t have enough of my own. And it irks me that women melt like butter at everything he says.
Although there was one fateful moment when I melted like butter, too. It was just a single kiss. Butwhata kiss.
“Well. I’ve got to run,” Teagan says, untying her apron. “You can start by introducing Gunnar to Lola.” That’s the name of our finicky old espresso machine.
“Now?” I ask stupidly.
“You know you need the help behind the counter, Posy. I don’t have any more hours to give you.” She drops her apron on a hook, giving Gunnar a flirty smile. Then she ducks into the back for her pocketbook.
None of this is okay with me. But I’m so desperate to hire help, that I already know I’ll give Gunnar a try. I can’t afford not to.
“Right.” I sigh. “Gunnar, let me introduce you to Lola.”
“Your espresso machine is a woman?”
“She’s too beautiful to be a man.” I place a hand on Lola’s red enamel curves. “And that’s handy, in this case. Because we both know how much attention you like to give females. Now let’s get started.”
3
Gunnar
“Cool, cool,”I say, waving a hand in the direction of the espresso machine. “Show me all your moves. You always liked things to be done in a very particular way.”
My voice is flip, but I can hardly believe that I’m sliding behind the counter with Posy Paxton. It’s like sliding back in time. Posy always was a perfectionist. She liked order and precision, which made it difficult to teach her to tend bar. She liked to count out the correct number of ice cubes for each glass. She used to measure every single ingredient with the care of a pharmacist, which slowed her down.
It was cute, but really fucking inefficient. “Show me exactly how you like the espresso to be made. Don’t leave out any details, because I know how your mind works.”
