Page 34 of The New York Nighthawks, Vol. 2
SKYE
As a budding chef, I was particular about my ingredients and was happiest when I could use the best of the best. Unfortunately, my budget didn’t allow me to indulge often, except for when I was cooking on someone else’s dime.
But every so often, I treated myself to a mini splurge.
And as a coffee aficionado, the least expensive way to get in a little gastro-pampering was with a trip to one of the amazing cafés in the city.
Waiting in line, I stared at the bakery case, debating if I should shell out several extra dollars for one of the scrumptious pastries.
It would mean that I’d need to live off ramen for the next week, so I decided against the additional splurge.
Although I spruced up the cheap packets a little with homemade broth, green onion, egg, and sriracha, one decadent slice of lemon loaf wasn’t worth the sacrifice…
no matter how delicious it looked. Four dollars went further at the grocery store than people thought when you made everything from scratch.
I could’ve made a batch of beans and rice that would have fed me for days with that much money.
Of course, it wouldn’t have been such a big splurge if my roommate hadn’t just up and decided to move in with her boyfriend, leaving me with a rent payment I could barely afford since the lease was in my name.
New York City was beyond expensive, and things were always tight, but paying the full rent meant not having much left over for food.
When I reached the front of the line, I reluctantly dragged my gaze away from the baked goods and smiled at the barista. “Good morning, can I get a small lavender cold brew latte please?”
“My favorite,” she chirped at me with a smile. “They’re brand-new on the menu and amazing.”
I hoped she wasn’t exaggerating how good the drink tasted. Handing over six dollars for a twelve-ounce drink made me cringe, so it had better be worth the ingredients I could’ve bought with it instead.
Luckily, after waiting for a good five minutes for my tiny cup of coffee, I discovered that she hadn’t been overselling the new menu item.
Just walking through the door of the café had been a treat to my senses but lifting my to-go cup to my lips for that first taste of cold brew was the absolute best.
I was savoring it so much that my head was still in the clouds when I headed outside with my treat. That was the only possible explanation for how I ended up crashing into a huge guy only a few steps onto the sidewalk.
He had to be a full foot taller than me, so I had no excuse for missing him.
Not that I was really surprised. The kitchen was the only place where I felt graceful, so I was used to being clumsy when I wasn’t cooking.
But at least it was just me who normally paid the price for my lack of coordination instead of other people.
Until this poor guy got drenched in coffee, courtesy of my clumsiness.
“Crap,” I muttered as my delicious lavender latte knocked into his cup of hot coffee, both drinks practically exploding as they smashed against his broad chest before falling to the ground.
And what a chest it was…which I didn’t fully realize until I was patting all of those muscles with a napkin. One that wasn’t doing any good because it was already covered in my cold brew since it had been wrapped around my cup to keep the condensation to a minimum.
My cheeks heated as I lowered my hand to my side and stared up at my victim. With his auburn hair, dark blue eyes, and muscular body, he was probably used to women gawking at him on a regular basis. Although the hot coffee bath was likely a new experience for him.
“I am so sorry.” My gaze dropped back down to his chest, and I grimaced as I cleared my throat. “At least mine was a cold brew. Please tell me that yours had the chance to cool off before I crashed into you. I’d hate to think that you’re hiding burns beneath that shirt.”
His lips curved into a grin that sent butterflies swirling in my belly. “I guess it’s a good thing I had the barista put in a heavy dash of oat milk because I don’t think I got burned.”
The mention of oat milk took a couple of points off the hotness scale since I tended to be a food snob, but I figured I should cut the guy some slack, considering the situation.
And maybe he was lactose intolerant or something, which had to suck because there were so many incredible dairy ingredients he’d miss out on if that was the case.
My random train of thought came to an abrupt stop when he bent over to pick up our now-empty cups, twisted around to toss them into the trash, and then lifted the hem of his shirt to check to make sure he wasn’t burned. And revealed his six-pack abs to my hungry gaze. “Holy crap.”
He lifted his shirt higher and asked, “Do you see a burn?”
That was as good of an excuse as any that I could come up with for my reaction to his ripped body.
I wasn’t about to tell some random guy that I wanted to lick the line that ran down the middle of his abdomen.
Especially not when the impulse was out of character for me.
I was the girl who spent all of her time in the kitchen and never dated, let alone accosted strange men at coffee shops.
“Um, maybe not. Sorry, I thought I did for a second, but it must’ve been a trick of the light or something. ”
“See, no harm, no foul.” He let the hem of his shirt fall back into place and then glanced down at the brown splotches covering the front of his big body. “Well, nothing permanent anyway. The clothes can easily be cleaned, but a burn might’ve made me questionable for Sunday’s game.”
“Sunday’s game?” I echoed.
My confusion made him smile for some odd reason, and he nodded. “Yeah, I’m a wide receiver for the Nighthawks.”
“Oh, I see,” I mumbled, pressing my lips together in a flat line. Not only had I embarrassed myself in front of the hottest guy I’d ever seen in person, but of course he had to also be a professional athlete.
He stretched his arm in my direction. “Dempsey Tate.”
“Skye Baird,” I replied, sliding my palm against his.
His hand dwarfed mine, and I was surprised by how much I liked it.
“Um, about your clothes…and cleaning them. I’ll pay for that since it was totally my fault they’re covered in coffee.
And if you have time to wait for another, I’ll get you a replacement drink.
I’m so sorry that I wasn’t looking where I was going. ”
Stopping in for a coffee instead of making a cup at home had already strained my meager budget, so offering to pay for his dry cleaning and a drink to replace the one I’d made him spill was going to hurt.
But it was the right thing to do even though I wanted to cry over the fact that I’d only gotten one sip of my delicious indulgence before it landed on him and the sidewalk.
He shook his head. “That’s not necessary.”
“No, really,” I insisted, instead of taking the out he was so kindly giving me. Like I should since he could clearly afford to pay for dry cleaning more easily than I could. “It’s only fair since I’m the one who caused this mess.”
His blue eyes deepened to navy as his gaze swept down my body. His stare was so intense, it almost felt as though he was touching me, and goose bumps followed in the wake of his look. “If you really want to make it up to me, you could marry me instead.”
My jaw literally dropped at his words. The proposal—from a hot stranger I’d drenched in coffee—had to be a joke.
This wasn’t one of the romantic comedies my former roommate loved to watch.
There was zero chance that this guy had fallen in love with me at first sight.
Not when he looked the way he did and played professional football, and I was… well, me.
The idea was so absurd that as I shook my head, laughter bubbled up my chest and spilled from my lips.