I don’t wanna. I was being childish, but hell if I knew how to stop. And Joe hadn’t called back, hadn’t chased me down, which only added to my muddled, pouty mood.
“Fine. Then I’ll choose for you.” Rubbing his forehead, the dad had clearly reached the end of his patience with the kid. “We’ll have—”
“Strawberry smoothie!”
I had to hide a laugh as the kid finally spoke up. “Got it. Kid-size smoothie. And for you?”
“Quad shot iced mocha please.” The man sighed like he’d been to battle simply to get a straight answer from the kid.
Was that how Joe felt? Like I was a kid he had to coddle?
A stack of cups almost toppled over as I whirled around to start on the drinks order. I had way too much nervous energy for simple tasks. I might like Daddy Dom games in the bedroom, but I didn’t need a full-time caretaker. But maybe those lines had become blurred at some point, even in my own head. I loved exploring what it meant to be a brat with Joe, but neither of us needed bratty behavior when it came to working out a future together.
Maybe Joe had run out of patience, and that was why he’d let me walk away. And now I was like the kid with his smoothie order, finally realizing what I wanted when it was almost too late, and the choice had been yanked away. God, I hoped it wasn’t actually too late for me. For us.
I’d have to—
“Hey, Joe.” Blake gave a wave as the door chimed.
My heart fluttered even as my stomach twisted, a weird combination of joy and dread. He was here, and despite whatever plans I’d been making to track him down later, I wasn’t sure I was ready.
But Blake was ready, already reaching for a cup. “Your usual? Let me get it started.”
“Nah. I want something a little different.” Joe darted his gaze toward me. “And Levi can do it.”
“He’s finishing up another order.” Blake had the same soothing tone as that dad had with his kid.
“That’s okay. I can wait.” Looking like he had all the time in the world, Joe rolled his shoulders before stepping aside so Blake could get the next person in line.
Somehow I managed to serve the prior order with no mistakes or sloshing of the cups. The dad gave me a grateful smile as he led the kid away, but honestly, I should have been the one thanking them since they’d provided a much-needed kick.
But now I had to actually deal with said epiphany and figure out how to make things right with Joe.
“Hey.” I gulped. So smooth. The smoothest. “You…uh…new order?”
“I want the special.” Joe pointed at the board where Blake had put up the Drink of the Day.
The Picture Perfect was a complicated blended mocha with the cup coated with both caramel and chocolate drizzle, mocha blended with two chocolate syrups and caramel, topped with whip, more drizzle, but not too much or the whip would collapse, and a dusting of cocoa powder to finish. It was showy and way too easy to end up with a blobby mess.
“Oh. Blake’s the one—”
“You do it just as well as him.” Joe gave me an encouraging smile. “Better, even.”
“I’m not sure about that.” The back of my neck heated. “You trust me not to ruin it?”
“I do.” He met my gaze, eyes solemn.
I appreciated the gesture, but still, my hands shook as I started the drink. I wanted to get this right, prove his faith in me wasn’t misplaced. He didn’t need to always give me the easy tasks. And all summer, I’d been becoming better and better at the job. I could do this.
Slowly.
No rushing. One step at a time. And as I worked, Joe’s encouragement kept bouncing around my brain. If he trusted me not to ruin his drink, maybe he could trust me to fix our relationship. Maybe.
“Here you go.” I handed over the drink.
“It lives up to its name. Perfect.” He continued to send me silent messages with his eyes. The drink wasn’t the only thing perfect. We might be too, if we could find our way back to the place we’d been all summer—the long talks and shared food and sleepy cuddles. This had been about so much more than sex, and deep down, I think we both knew how perfect we were together. Especially when we got out of our own way.
His meaningful looks would suggest he was open to making up, but in line at Bold Brew wasn’t the time or place, even with our talent for unspoken communication.
“Good.” I didn’t try to keep him longer at the register, but I wasn’t at all surprised when he headed for a table instead of the door.
“Okay, Dimples.” Blake waved a towel at me. “Go take your break.”