Page 30 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

Beck

I wake up to the sun streaming into the room, lighting up Hazel’s still sleeping form.

I would never tell her, but she sort of sleeps like a bear, with deep snores, stretched out on her stomach diagonally.

It makes me want to take a picture. I stretch out my neck, and quietly as I can, make my way downstairs to make her some coffee.

From our talks, I know she’s not a late sleeper, so hopefully, after last night, I’ve worn her out enough to buy me some time.

Using the coffee beans from our new subscription—thank you, sample packs!

—which I still have to name somehow, I make the best approximation of her regular drink at the café without the use of an espresso machine.

I use the fresh, dark roast beans, cream, and syrups I snuck out of the café to make her usual order.

I have too much fun teasing her about the sugar content, so I will never admit it to her that I’ve tried it and it’s damn delicious.

Right as I’m about to head back to the beautiful woman in my bed, my phone blares out a ring, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

It takes a moment to restart my heart, but then I look down at the name, pick it up, and smile .

“Hola mamá, como estas?” I’m speaking as quietly as I can without being suspicious.

“Beck! I’m doing well, your uncles say hi!” I can hear my mom holding out the phone to my family as a resounding hello comes through the speaker, “I just wanted to see how my boy is doing, we miss you!”

“I’m good mamá, just got up, lots of work to do today.” Not that I want to do anything one might consider work today.

“Always working! You need to give yourself a break sometimes, live a little, maybe find a friend…” I can hear her meddling smile through the phone, “Speaking of which, the family has been bugging me, I didn’t want to bring it up to you.

” She’s talking about it like it’s top secret.

“But since we’re on the topic, are you seeing anyone? ”

I groan. She always asks that any time I see or hear from her.

She always acts like she’s not asking for herself, like I might not tell her if she asks directly.

I think she worries about my social life, or lack thereof.

She’s probably hopeful that if I have a girlfriend, I won’t spend all my time working.

But this is not the time I want to be having this conversation.

“That cannot seriously be the only thing they have to ask me.” I doubt my family cares quite as deeply as she’s making it seem. My family loves me, and I’m sure they would be ecstatic to throw a wedding, but I can confidently attribute that to the open bar rather than my eternal love and happiness.

“It’s because they care, Beck. Besides, if you’re not at home, you’re working on your business, and we already know that. What we don’t know is if you’ve managed to guarantee me some grandchildren.”

“Not yet, mamá,” I trail off.

“It’s always later, never now… Wait, that wasn’t an outright no… Jorge, he didn’t say no! He said not yet! What does not yet mean, Beck?” She sounds like a kid at Christmas, pure excitement.

“Mamá…” I really don’t want to answer this line of questioning right now when the woman I have in mind is upstairs in my bed .

“Alright, alright, keep your secrets. You know a mother always finds out!”

“Yes mamá. Tell me, is your trip going well? What have you been up to?” She proceeds to spend ten minutes talking about making food with her sisters and meeting all of their grandbabies, something I know she was excited for, and thankfully doesn’t whip out as a conversation topic again.

When the time comes for her, she’s going to be amazing at it.

Once we’ve fully caught up, we exchange our I love you's and goodbyes. I can breathe easier, like a weight being lifted off of my chest. I usually feel that way after seeing or talking to my mom. I really can’t wait for the day I can tell her about Hazel, too.

But I need to be sure when I do. And I want Hazel to be sure as well.

Creeping back up the steps, I peer into the spare room where Fish is sleeping to check on him. He is fully on his back, paws everywhere, and sleeping deeply.

Dumbass .

I roll my eyes, leave the door open a crack, and make my way back to my room where a gorgeous woman is still starfished in my t-shirt and tangled in my sheets.

I place her coffee next to her, then sneak around back into bed, reaching from behind to cuddle her into me again.

Having her in my arms is the closest thing to perfection I will ever experience, and I would spend all day, every day, wrapped up in her if I could.

Her citrusy-floral scent wafts up from her hair and I inhale deeply.

Hazel stretches her arms over her head as she slowly wakes up, turning to me with a sleepy smile.

“Mornin’ handsome,” she says, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“How’d you sleep, sugar?” I ask, pressing another kiss into her hair, something I’m noticing is becoming a habit of mine. She’s so damn kissable.

“Like the dead. I think you killed me with your magic dick,” she grumbles, and I can’t stop laughing.

“Well, my magic dick thanks you for the compliment. ”

“Weird that it can talk, you should get that looked at.” She looks over her shoulder at me, eyes sparkling.

“And to think, he was the one who told me to make you coffee this morning. Are you saying I shouldn’t listen to him?” I tease back. Her eyes whip to the bedside table and her smile widens.

“Nope, he’s my favourite, he can say whatever he wants,” she says, sitting up and greedily grabbing her coffee. She looks perfectly disheveled as she takes a sip, and her face turns pensive, evaluating the cup. I scratch the back of my head awkwardly.

“I did my best to make it the way you order in the café, I didn’t have all the ingredients,” I admit. She takes another sip and chews her lip thoughtfully.

“I’ll be honest…” she says, pausing to look at me, and I swear she’s doing it just to make me sweat, “This might be better than the café…” She ducks her head shyly as my whole face lights up in a smile and I jokingly punch the air victoriously, “Don’t you dare tell Stella!

She might murder me. Or stop making me coffee,” she says, laughing at my reaction.

“Either would be a horrible fate.” I roll over so I’m on my back, looking up at her, the most beautiful thing I’ll ever see in the morning. I put my hand on her knee, needing to touch her, be connected to her somehow. “So, my coffee is really better?” I press, enjoying her awkward compliments.

“Actually, yeah!” she nods, still drinking.

“It’s a home brewed version of my favourite, I love it.

As much as coffee shop drinks are awesome, there’s something satisfying about being able to make and enjoy it at home whenever you want.

This is definitely my favourite version.

” She seems so happy, and it’s infectious.

“Home brewed, that sounds good,” I hum, making a mental note. “So, do you have to go to work today or do you want to play hooky?”

“Hmmm, I’ll have to ask my boss, he’s kind of a hardass.”

“I think he’d be understanding, just this once,” I smile back up at her. She gazes down at me, caressing my face and leaning down to kiss me gently .

“Then I guess I will.” The way she looks at me is a way I want to make her look all the time; content, peaceful, sated.

“Do we need to pick up anything from your place? I have some clothes Maria left here last time she was over. She’s a little taller than you, but I think it can work?”

Luckily, they’re a similar size, even if Hazel is a good few inches shorter than her.

Decked out in black bike shorts and a long, olive-green shirt, throwing her hair into a messy bun with one of my hair ties, she’s ready to go by the time I finish pulling on a pair of black jeans and a white tee.

I left my hair down, letting the natural waves bounce around my face, too lazy to toss it up today.

“So, any preferences on where we go? Or would you like a guided adventure today?” I ask, pulling out Maria’s sandals from the back of the closet and putting on my own sneakers.

“Hmmm, I don’t know, I’m okay with whatever you want to do.” Her voice warbles a little, betraying some of her nerves. What I can’t wrap my mind around is why she would be nervous.

I stand back up, walking up to her until she’s backed into the wall near my front door, caged in by my arms on either side of her. Tracing my hand down her face, I ask, “Want to try that again?”

“Well, I don’t know what you like to do,” she says, trying to brush it off, looking a little pink from our positioning.

“If it was just you, what would you do today? If I was just one of your girlfriends?” I have a sinking feeling someone had put some shit in her head that I’m out to permanently remove.

“I don’t know, the farmer’s market? Brunch?

Shopping at that little area where all those local businesses are?

I want to do things that you want to do, too, though.

It can’t only be things I like.” She’s staring at her shoes as she speaks.

I refuse to let her, placing small kisses on her nose until she’s laughing and flustered, and looking at me again .

“Well, I don’t know about you, but that all sounds pretty fun to me. Why don’t we do some of those, and you get to believe me when I say if there’s something I don’t want to do, I’ll tell you?”

“Promise?” she asks quietly.

“I promise.”

True to my word, we go out to do the things that Hazel suggested.

I’m determined to keep that happy look on her face as long as possible.

We drive out to a local farmer’s market, taking our time walking around and getting samples.

Fish tags along, happy to be included and half-dragging Hazel between stalls.

I sneak some candid pictures of the two of them to show her later.