A guy walked in. Tall. Red hair. Sunglasses. Not a regular customer—he’d have remembered this guy. Freckles and a bright-ass smile while he took in the shop.
Brian swallowed and set his espresso cup down. He usually didn’t dig dudes. But sometimes . . . sometimes he did.

This was one of those sometimes.

Sunglasses walked farther in and took the glasses off—and that really wasn’t any better. He had pale eyes—hazel or blue or green—and cheekbones that went straight up to heaven as he stared at the drink menu.

Brian’s usual line was “What can I get started for you?” That’s not what came out of his mouth, though.

“See anything you’d like?”

Sunglasses stepped forward and met his gaze. Hazel—his eyes were hazel and they had little lines around them that matched his smile. “Lots of things.” The melodic words slithered through Brian, all wrapped up in a British accent. “What do you recommend?”

He completely forgot what drinks were even on the damn board. “Well, what do you like? Light? Dark? Bold? Something with a bit of cream?” Did he really just say that?

A huff of laughter. “I’m fond of bold. And cream.”

“Chili Mocha?”

His smile deepened. “Bold, hot, and spicy?”

Yeah, he was in trouble. “With cream.”

“Of course.” He tucked his sunglasses into the neck of his t-shirt. “Sounds exactly like what I want.”