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Chapter One

Spill the Beans

Dahlia

“Excuse me.”

The deep voice startled me, making me jump. Instinctively turning, the coffee beans I was pouring scattered across the metal counter, bouncing with rapid series of pings. “Crud,” I muttered, quickly taking in the mess as I set the bag down. I forced a smile and rotated to face the customer.

Holy Mother of all things beautiful.

Standingwellover six feet, he was by far the most attractive man I’d ever seen in real life. Early to mid-thirties, his skin was a rich olive tone, complimenting his coffee brown eyes and wavy, dark hair. His strong jaw and cheekbones were gorgeously masculine, making him look like he belonged in an expensive advertisement. It didn’t matter what the ads were trying to sell, people would buy it.

His looks, his subtle but fancy watch, and his quality clothing all exuded class.

“Can I help you?” I asked, starting toward the register. I cringed, my cheeks heating as I stepped on beans, the loud crunch seeming to echo in the suddenly quiet coffee shop. “Sorry.”

The customer’s eyes were amused, his lips tipped up in a dimpled smile.

Strangely, I didn’t feel like he was mocking me, though.

He pulled a leather wallet out of the pocket of his black slacks. “Can I have a large coffee?”

“Anything in it, or room for cream and sugar?” At the quick shake of his head, I touched the order screen. “That’ll be a dollar fifty-seven.” I turned around and grabbed a cup, pouring the coffee before pushing on a lid. I spun back and took his outstretched money. Opening the drawer, I glanced at the bill he gave me. “Sorry, do you have anything smaller?”

He shook his head again.

“A card to put it on? I don’t have change for this.” I tried to hand him the fifty-dollar bill back but got yet another head shake.

“A tip,” he said, his lips pulling into a smile as he tilted his head toward the mess of beans. “And an apology for interrupting you.”

“But—”

“Trust me, it’s selfish on my part. Now you’ll remember me when I’m in a rush.”

Yeah, like I’m gonna forget him.

“I’m not sure,” I said with a shrug, setting his coffee on the counter between us. “It’s a pretty complicated order.”

His eyes widened slightly, his deep chuckle traveling through my body like a physical sensation.

Ignoring my unexpected reaction, I gestured to the baked goods in the display case. “At least grab a snack.”

There was no ignoring my body’s reaction as he brought his hand to his chin, his thumb sweeping across his full bottom lip. I held my breath, as if exhaling would make him stop.

“What’s your favorite?” he asked, still scanning the case.

“The lemon poppy seed muffins are popular. And the cranberry orange scones are usually long gone by this time.”

“That’s not what I asked,” he said, sadly dropping his hand. “What’syourfavorite?”

“I’m a sucker for the chocolate chip banana muffins,” I answered quietly, feeling as though I was divulging some deep, intimate detail about myself.

“Then I’ll take two.”

Grabbing a sheet of wax paper, I bagged up two muffins and passed them to him.

So lightly, I was pretty sure I imagined it, his fingers grazed mine as he took the bag. “Thank you.” He gave me another dimpled smile.