Dishing Up Love

“See? Unlike any woman in the entire world, sugar. Most women would play it off like they didn’t know how the night would end. They’d act coy or hard to get, even if they’d already decided how they wanted things to go. You just lay it out there. And you know what? It’s fucking refreshing. Now we can just enjoy the rest of the night without the immature games,” he states, reaching out to toss my ponytail behind my back that had fallen over my shoulder.

“Or… I’ve imbibed just enough alcohol to no longer have a brain-to-mouth filter,” I admit.

He laughs at that. “Yeah, or that.” He shakes his head. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I sit back in my seat as the waiter appears, setting our coffees and plate of beignets between us on the table. When he leaves, I grab the glass sugar dispenser, turn it upside down over my small mug of coffee in the center of its saucer, and prop my opposite elbow on the table, leaning my chin on my open palm. My eyes lift to Curtis as I begin to speak, his eyebrow lifting as his gaze goes from the sugar flowing into my coffee, up to my eyes, then back down to the sugar again. “Poor ole Zack and Addie. What a hot mess express those two were. The perfect storm. I mean, I know I’m not supposed to judge, and you should never speak ill of the dead and all that, but goddamn. For real. They didn’t stand a chance. It’s a miracle they lasted as long as they did—”

“Um… baby. Would you like some coffee with your sugar?” he interrupts, gesturing toward my cup.

I glance down, unfazed. I pooch my lips, righting the sugar dispenser for a moment, before tilting it once more for good measure. I begrudgingly hand the container over to Curtis, picking up my spoon as he chuckles, shaking his head. I stir my coffee, watching the steam rise for a moment before I lift my eyes to watch him.

He pours in just a little, what would equal maybe one packet of sugar, stirring and then taking a tentative sip. He makes a face, wincing a little, and I can’t help but laugh. “Note to self,” he starts, “listen to your woman when she tells you the coffee will be hot as fuck, and take heed when she pours in half the container of sugar. This is the darkest freaking coffee I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

I grin. “Technically, it’s still a light roast, so you’ll still get an amazing kick of go-go. It’s the chicory that makes it taste so bold. But add the right amount of sugar, and oh my Lord. Heavenly.”

His eyes lock with mine and I can’t help but jerk back a little at his possessive look. He leans forward, and I brace myself. “You just gave me the biggest boner of the day.”

My brow furrows in confusion, but I immediately burst out laughing. “What the hell?”

“No lie, sugar. You have no idea how much you just turned me on,” he admits.

“What’d I say? What’d I do?” I shake my head, a big grin on my face.

“Do you have any idea how many people think the bolder the coffee the more caffeine or kick they’ll get? It’s astonishing how many times I’ve had to explain during my lifetime that dark roasts come from roasting the coffee beans longer, which in turns cooks the caffeine out of the coffee. The darkest roast there is, is decaf,” he tells me, shaking his head.

“Right? I always secretly chuckle at the people who order like ‘Gimme your darkest roast,’ thinking they’re some kind of badass for being able to tolerate how bold and caffeinated their drink is. I’m like, bro. Order a large blonde roast and you’re a true bad motherfucker.” I giggle.

“Fucking. A. Yes. God, you’re freaking amazing,” he says, and my auto-pilot turns on momentarily to joke away his compliment.

“I mean, I have been known to order a grande or two of blonde roast.” I flip my ponytail.

Suddenly, my hand is in his and my attention is on his handsome face as he pulls me closer across the table. “I mean it, Erin. You’re amazing. And I know your joking is some kind of defense mechanism—hell, maybe it’s even from that OCD of yours, a compulsion or automatic response when someone tries to get close to you. But just so you know, it won’t push me away. I’ll keep on complimenting you, telling you how goddamn wonderful you are, until you finally accept it, and thereafter too.”

I nod, glancing down at my coffee and trying not to let the tears form in my eyes that want to fall so badly.

“But we’ll delve into that later. Right now, I want some lighthearted donut talk. Tell me about Zack and Addie,” he jokes himself, making me lift my chin to see the twinkle in his beautiful eyes.