Page 41 of The Runaway Billionaire's Inconvenient Baby
One of the girls comes to the front of the gaggle, with long black hair and vibrant blue makeup, and grins before ordering lattes with all of the sweet syrups we have.
Jacob freezes like he doesn’t even understand what he’s being asked to do, and I have to try not to roll my eyes. No wonder he’s a CEO. If he had to do this as a job all the time, I think he’d be fired very quickly.
“Do you serve food here?” asks a different girl, pale and fair-haired. Jacob opens his mouth, then closes it again before looking at me uncertainly.
I decide to spare him the pain and jump in. “We usually do. But unfortunately, the kitchen is closed today. My friend Jacob will be happy to help you if you want a pastry of some kind.”
“Friend?” he mouths to me, before turning back to the group and doing his best to smile.
The gaggle pour over the pastry display and finally put in their orders. As I make the coffee, he plates up the pastry, meticulously centering each one on the plate before handing it over. The group goes to sit at a table, and I hand Jacob a tray.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“You’re going to take them their coffees.”
“What…?”
I give him a despairing look. “What, did you think they just appear in front of them? You’re working today. You can serve.”
His lips waver as he tries to formulate some sort of response, but words fail him, and he gives in to the role he’s playing. Carefully, he lifts the tray, staring wide-eyed at all the drinks as they wobble. He shuffles over to the table and places each cup down in the middle without a word before sauntering back over.
No doubt he’s waiting for me to tell him he did a good job, but he’ll be waiting a long time for that.
“Next time,” I say, trying to keep my voice stern even though amusement wants to filter through. “It would be better if you handed them the drinks personally.”
“I did,” he says, cocking his head to the side, genuinely confused.
I can’t help the chuckle. “Have you never been in a cafe before? They announce the drink and hand it to the customer. With words… like a person.”
“That’s stupid,” he huffs. Although from the shade of red his face is turning, I can tell he has no real argument for me. He’s definitely the kind of person who would get mad at waiters for not getting his order right.
Part of me hopes I’ve done at least a little to change that. To show him that everyone is human and deserves consideration.
He leans on the counter, relaxing like he thinks he’s done his hard work for the day, but he barely gets a moment of respite before his next customers walk in. This time, it’s people he knows.
“And what the hell are you doing here?” says Louise with a huge smile on her face as she and Sage come up to the counter.
Jacob gives them the first real smile I’ve seen him give all day. “Working.”
“Lowering yourself to the level of the peasants, huh?” Louise is joking, but the tips of Jacob’s ears turn pink. Sage shoots her a look as if to say,don’t torment him, to which I’m sure Louise would sayhe’s a billionaire, he can handle it.
Before the silent conversation can go any further, he stretches out a hand to the chalkboard. “What do you want?” Then, feeling my stare burning into his back, adds, “Please?”
Sage politely but conspicuously covers her mouth with her hand, trying not to laugh too openly at him. “We’ll both take iced matcha lattes, please,” she says.
“Extra cream for me,” chimes in Louise.
Jacob dutifully writes down the order, though I’ve started making the drinks before the pen touches the paper. The slip is destined for the trash, unread.
“And what pastries do you want?” He stares blankly at them, and I roll my eyes, turning back to the coffee machine. I hear Sage’s giggles get louder, and Louise lets out a sigh.
“Hey, Bills,” says Louise, “you need to rethink your hiring process.”
“He’s doing his best,” I say, jumping to his defense. Not that he needs me to defend him. And not that he is doing a good job with this at all.
“Do you want these to go?” Jacob asks, waving the croissant he has pinched in his tongs at them.
We all stare at him — this guy with a flushed face, an annoyed frown, more money than sense, and a croissant — and burst out laughing.
