Our breathing begins to slow. He slides out, and I pull my skirt down as I hear him straightening his clothes, fastening his jeans. I roll against the wall so my back is against it, holding me up while I blink at him. Stepping forward, he places both hands on the wall beside my face and kisses me long and gentle, sweeping his tongue inside for a brief taste. I lift weak arms to hold the front of his shirt.
When he leans up, a grin is on his handsome face. “Good morning.”
My strength is slowly returning, and I run my thumb down that line in his chin before pushing off the wall. He steps back, and I walk to the stall door.
“Thanks, I’m heading in to breakfast.”
My tone is teasing, but before I can make it to the door he catches my arm and pulls me to his chest. “Don’t get any ideas, Miss Heron. You’re not in charge here.”
His proximity and that intensity I love makes my heart beat a little faster. I press my lips into a grin, gazing at the fullness of his mouth. “Oh, I have lots of ideas, Mr. Knight.”
With that, I meet him in the middle and kiss him hard. Just as fast, I duck out of his arms and skip through the door, laughing.
“You’d better run,” he says, shaking his head, which of course, makes me slow down and do a little hip swish.
A lunge in my direction causes me to squeal and take off running again, the sound of his laughter chasing me to the house.
Amy is still at the table when I enter, a satisfied smile on my face. She’s holding a cup of coffee, and Sylvia is standing by the bar.
“Mare! I want you to read my coffee grounds,” she calls, but I do a little wave.
“Give me a minute, I need to change.” … and shower and put on underwear.
She rolls her eyes as if she can read my mind and resumes talking to her mother. I dash down the hall to complete all the tasks I just rattled off, and when I return, only Amy is in the room, scrolling on her phone, cold coffee cup in front of her.
“So,” she puts the phone down and scoots around in her chair. “Since you’re my gypsy future sister-in-law, I want to know all about my aura and my coffee grounds and all that fun stuff!”
It doesn’t bother me. I actually have Kenny over all the time to drink Turkish coffee and eat Turkish delight and do readings.
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” I say, giving her a little frown. “We don’t have the right equipment, and even if we did, it’s so subjective. Half the time we don’t even know what any of it means.”
“That’s okay!” She hops out of her chair and joins me in the kitchen. “What kind of equipment do we need?”
Looking around, I spot a coffee press in the corner. “This could work if we take the plunger out.”
“Will you have coffee too?” I press my lips together and look to the side. “Maybe half a cup.”
Amy’s eyes are round. “What’s wrong with coffee?”
“They say it can increase your chances of having a miscarriage.” Just saying the words makes my stomach sick. “Maybe I won’t have any.”
“Does it make a difference if it’s decaf?”
My brow lines, and I think about it. “Maybe? I think the caffe
ine is the problem.”
“Problem solved!” She pulls down a green bag of decaf, and I start the kettle boiling.
“Isn’t it weird how they put decaf in green bags and caffeinated in red?” I tilt my head to the side as I open the bag.
She leans on the bar beside me. “I never thought about it, but now that you say it, yes! Green is for go.”
“Right?” I nod as the kettle starts to whistle. I put six scoops of grounds into the glass carafe, and once the kettle is boiling vigorously, I pour the hot water on top of the grounds and set the plunger while it steeps.
Amy watches the whole process. “How is Turkish coffee different?”
“Oh, it’s a total process.” Going to the cabinet I take out small espresso cups to pour the coffee into.