The morning rush at Brewed Awakening was a battlefield, and Mia was the general commanding her troops through the chaos. The small café in the heart of the city buzzed with the clatter of cups, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the grumbled complaints of caffeine-deprived customers. Mia, with her dark hair pulled into a messy bun and an apron smeared with coffee stains, stood behind the counter like a force of nature, her sharp green eyes scanning the line as she barked orders at her coworkers.
“Tyler, if I see you texting under the counter one more time, I’m shoving that phone where the sun doesn’t shine. Move it! And Sarah, stop staring into space like you’ve never seen a latte before—froth, now!” Her voice cut through the din, laced with exasperation but undeniably in control. The customers might grumble about the wait, but they knew better than to cross her. Mia didn’t just make coffee; she owned this place, even if her name wasn’t on the deed.
She was mid-pour on a double espresso when the door swung open with a jingle, and in strolled Jake. He was a regular, but not just any regular. The man was a walking contradiction to the caffeine-fueled mess around him—tailored suit hugging his broad shoulders, dark hair slightly tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed after a very good night, and a smoldering gaze that could melt the ice in a cold brew. Every head in the café turned, but Jake’s eyes locked on Mia like she was the only person in the room.
Her stomach flipped, a familiar heat pooling low in her core as she caught his stare. She didn’t let it show, though. Instead, she smirked, already reaching for a cup to prep his usual—black coffee, no nonsense, just like him. Or so she thought.
“Morning, suit,” she drawled, her tone dripping with playful mockery as she slid the cup across the counter before he even reached it. “Thought I’d save you the trouble of pretending to browse the menu. You’re predictable as hell.”
Jake’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin as he stepped up, his presence filling the space between them. His fingers brushed hers as he took the cup, the brief contact sending a jolt through her that hit harder than any double shot she’d ever downed. Her breath caught, but she masked it with a raised brow.
“Predictable, huh?” His voice was low, smooth, like the first sip of whiskey after a long day. “And here I thought you liked knowing exactly what I want, Mia. Makes things... easier.”
She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest, the heat of his touch still lingering on her skin. “Oh, please. Pretty boys like you are all talk. I bet you couldn’t handle a real kick of spice if it bit you on that perfect little ass of yours.”
Jake’s grin widened, his eyes darkening as he leaned in just enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne—woodsy, expensive, and entirely too distracting. “Careful, sweetheart. I’ve got plenty of heat to share. Question is, are you brave enough to handle it? Or do you just sling sass because it’s safer than taking a risk?”
Mia rolled her eyes, but her pulse was racing, her body betraying her with every thud of her heart. “Don’t flatter yourself, Jake. You’re holding up my line with your bedroom eyes and cheap lines. Move it before I charge you double for wasting my time.”
He chuckled, the sound rich and infuriating, but stepped aside with a mock bow. “As you wish, boss lady. Wouldn’t dream of getting in your way.”
“Yeah, right,” she muttered under her breath, turning to the next customer with more force than necessary. But she could feel his gaze on her, burning into her back as she worked. The rush eventually slowed, and Jake, instead of leaving like a normal person, settled at a nearby table with his coffee, his eyes never straying from her. She wiped down the counters with aggressive swipes, her frustration mounting with every glance she stole in his direction. The way his lips curled around the rim of the cup, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring more than just the coffee—it was enough to make her want to throw a rag at him.
“Goddamn distracting pain in my ass,” she grumbled to herself, scrubbing at a nonexistent stain. But her eyes kept darting to him, traitorously noting the way his tie was slightly loosened, the hint of stubble on his jaw. She hated how much space he took up in her head.
Sarah, her coworker, sidled up with a knowing smirk as she restocked the pastry case. “You’ve got it bad, Mia. Don’t even try to deny it. You’re practically undressing him with your eyes.”
Mia’s head snapped up, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Mind your own damn business, Sarah, or I’ll have you scrubbing the espresso machine with a toothbrush. I’m not in the mood.”
Sarah snickered, unfazed, but backed off with her hands raised. Mia’s cheeks burned, and she cursed herself for letting it show. She was better than this—stronger. She didn’t get flustered over some suited-up charmer with a smirk that could stop traffic.
As the morning bled into afternoon, Jake finally stood to leave. But before he did, he sauntered back to the counter, dropping a napkin in front of her with a casual flick of his wrist. Scrawled across it in bold, confident handwriting was a note: *Rain’s coming tonight. Stay late. I’ll keep you warm.*
Mia scoffed aloud, crumpling the napkin in her fist. “Cheesy as hell,” she muttered, loud enough for him to hear as he lingered by the door. But her core tightened at the thought, a restless ache blooming despite her best efforts to ignore it. She shoved the napkin into her apron pocket, refusing to meet his gaze as he flashed her one last grin and disappeared into the city streets.
The rest of the day dragged like molasses, her mind replaying Jake’s words, his voice, that damn smirk. She snapped at customers more than usual, her irritation mixing with a growing heat she couldn’t shake. By the time the evening shift rolled around, dark clouds had gathered outside, and rain began to patter against the café’s windows, a soft drumbeat that mirrored the storm brewing inside her.
Mia glanced at the clock, then at the empty café. She could lock up early, head home, and forget this nonsense. But the memory of that napkin, now a crumpled weight in her pocket, kept her rooted. Jake was probably all talk—guys like him always were. Still, a part of her, the part she tried to bury under layers of control and sarcasm, wanted to find out. So she stayed, wiping down the counter for the hundredth time, waiting to see if he’d show, or if she’d just end up soaked and alone in more ways than one.
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