The next customer was of the indecisive sort and asked Laurent in detail about all the products. It was getting a bit old, so when the bell rang, informing Laurent of a new customer’s arrival, his gaze was drawn to the entrance.
He couldn’t have gotten hotter if lightning pierced the roof and hit him with its fire when he saw Beast enter wearing his nicest jeans and a soft black longsleeve worn under the cut that proclaimed him as the club president.
Laurent stared at the muffins his customer was choosing between, but his ears were going red from the unexpected presence. What was Beast’s goal? Would he sit here all day in some insane bid at ‘protecting’ Laurent from the dangers of 2018, or did he come congratulate Laurent on his first day at work? Then again, why would he do that if they weren’t on speaking terms?
Laurent focused all his attention on the customer in front of him, fully aware of Beast watching him like the handsomest of predators. “Are these for yourself, or someone else? Their taste should also be taken into account. Unless I could entice you with my personal favorite, raspberry and white chocolate. It’s indulgence like no other.”
The customer smiled and leaned on the counter. “I like the way you speak about things. If I owned a company, I’d have employed you as the face of my brand,” he said just as Beast stood behind him in the short line.
He didn’t even pretend he was interested in pastry and eyed Laurent instead. Well, he would have to wait, because Laurent was working. He wasn’t available whenever, the way Beast would have liked him to be.
Laurent smiled at the muffin man. “That’s too kind. I only aim to give exceptional service. It is within my competence to offer a customer a sample of any cake or muffin. Could I interest you in such a treat?”
The man leaned even closer, his eyes focused on Laurent in a way that felt familiar. Daring. The gaze was a rope, and it was trying to loop around him in an effort to make the catch.
“I’m quite sure you could interest me in anything. The question is, could I interest you in giving me your number?”
“No,” Beast said in a grim voice.
Laurent rolled his eyes, but the truth was Beast was right. There was only one man for Laurent, but that did not mean said man needed to know it.
The customer turned around, saying: “Excuse—” He sounded annoyed at first but changed his tune as soon as he saw Beast.
Laurent shook his head. “There’s no need for this.”
The muffin man actually stepped back. “Maybe we’ll talk another time. I’ll have what you said is best,” he said, struggling not to appear too intimidated, but there was no denying that Beast could be a fearsome presence, even when he didn’t want to appear so.
“You are not going out with him,” Beast repeated in a booming tone that somehow managed to remain on the quiet side. His presence still drew the attention of the other patrons.
To make matters worse, Tierra must have heard what was going on and butted in. “Excuse me, but this is a no-homophobia zone, big guy. If you don’t like it, you can leave.”
Laurent bit his lips, not sure what to do, so he gave the guy an extra muffin on the house and packed them all into a neat box. “It’s okay, he doesn’t mean any harm.”
Beast directed his gaze at Tierra, who went visibly tense, even though she stood her ground. “I’m not homophobic. I’m gay, and this is none of your business.”
Tierra frowned, as if things weren’t adding up in her head, but muffin man got more confident again, looking back at Beast as he put some money in the tip jar.
“What’s your problem, then?”
Laurent rubbed his forehead in frustration. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. “He’s being rude.”
“I’m his husband, so if you ask for his number one more time, I’m not gonna snap your fucking neck,” Beast said, leaning close in a way that was so menacing Laurent was ashamed that the display of jealousy stirred excitement deep inside him. No matter how much he tried to take the high road, his primitive instincts always got the best of him.
Tierra whistled. “That’s your husband?”
Muffin man didn’t bother to continue this exchange and left in a hurry, without waiting for his coffee.
Laurent groaned. “Ex.”
Beast’s big, meaty hand moved along the counter, and each one of the tattoos on it reminded Laurent of moments when he watched those same fingers touch his body.
“I don’t remember getting divorce papers,” Beast said in a gruff voice.
Mr. Linde must have also noticed the commotion, because to Laurent’s utter dread, he approached with his lips pressed into a thin line. “Is there an issue? I’m not afraid to call the police if necessary.”