Page 6 of Voyeur Café
Turbine’s massive starburst clock reads five-fifty-three when Bea rushes through the front door. She’s running late for the six AM barre class she teaches at the gym across the street, which isn’t unusual. Her dark brown hair, a perfect match for the coffee I’m brewing, is twisted into a fancy Pinterest braid that she definitely did while she was driving here. Her golden-beige skin is make-up and blemish free, and she wears black leggings and a cropped Poison t-shirt that’s undoubtedly vintage.
I slide the iced oat milk, half-sweet vanilla latte that I just finished making for her onto the counter. “Morning, gorgeous.”
“Bless you, coffee angel,” she whispers as she hands me her card. Hugging her latte close to her chest before taking her first sip, she says, “I am Hangover Barbie today. I could never get through my class without this.”
“I’ll never understand how you do it,” I say, copying herhushed tone and returning her card. In exactly three minutes, she’ll beonand teaching one of the toughest workout classes in the Coachella Valley. “You’re amazing.”
“No,youare amazing.” She takes another deep sip of her drink as she backs toward the door. Before she reaches it, Luke appears and pulls it open for her from the outside. Having his truck towed has not had the desired effect of making him disappear. Instead, he’s been back every morning this week for coffee and working next door from sunup to sundown. “Thank you, door angel.” Bea says. She silently mouths at me from behind him,“So hot!”before checking for cars and sprinting across the street.
A muscular blue pit bull steps in behind Luke, its steel gray fur interrupted in a few places by snowy white, including two front ‘socks’ and a thick stripe that starts at the width of its nose and narrows between its ears. “She allowed?”
“According to the FDA, it’s a hard no, but this early in the morning, I usually let it slide.” Rounding the counter, I squat down so the dog can come check me out. “New landlord’s a jackass, though, so who knows?” She ambles over and rolls on her back for me to scratch her belly.I like this dog.
Luke ignores my jab. “He’s good with it. “
Rolling my eyes, I focus back on the sweet face in front of me. “Who is this pretty girl?”
“Betty.” She looks up at him and wags her tail when she hears her name. I settle down cross-legged onto the slate gray concrete, the floor cooling my legs from beneath as Betty rolls her warm body into my lap.What a sweetie. I keep petting her and soaking up all the doggie love I can until I hear Luke chuckle from right above us.
On the ground like this, with him looming over me, he’s even more imposing than usual. I straighten my spine and squaremy shoulders, pushing my chest forward. I won’t be intimidated that easily. “Are we amusing you?”
“Endlessly, but I’m here for a drink. Service is pretty slow.” Does he seriously think he’s allowed to tease me now that I petted his dog once?No, thank you.
“No more pets for you, Betty. Sorry, sweet girl.” I point a thumb at Luke. “All this jackass’ fault.” When I stand up and cross over to the sink to wash my hands and arms, she whines briefly and returns to his side.How could such a sweet dog belong to Lucas Pine?
“Jackass? Didn’t know you liked me enough to give me a nickname.” He smirks.Cockyjackass.
“That’s not what a nickname is.” I roll my eyes while I slide a to-go cup for his drink from the top of the stack.
“I say it counts.”
“It doesn’t count.”
Betty leans her heavy pittie head against Luke’s leg and looks up at him adoringly while he scratches behind her ear.Aren’t dogs supposed to be good judges of character?Maybe Betty’s too loving to perceive the truth about her human.
I place his drink on the counter between us. “Medium coffee, no room.”
Luke pays in cash and picks up his cup. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Oh, nope. Nope, nope, nope. I hate that already.” A smile takes over his entire bearded face, clearly pleased with himself.Dammit.
“Noted,” he replies with smooth confidence.
“What are you doing here so early, anyway?” I enjoy the quiet of a solo opening shift, and if he’s banging around on his side all morning, he’ll ruin it.
“You’re here,” he says. Like that’s a reason.
“I run a coffee shop. Sleeping in isn’t a part of my life. But it should be for you.”
“Not today. Too much to do.”
He’s been tearing up Mel’s old shop all week, and it’s been as loud as his presence in my life is obnoxious. “Whatever you’re doing today had better not be so damn loud. I’m losing business over it. How much longer until you—” I twinkle my fingers toward the windowed wall. I have no idea what he’s doing over there besides being a nuisance.
Luke finishes the thought. “Until I finish demo and open my motorcycle shop?”
A fucking motorcycle shop? Eew.That’s the last thing Station 19 needs. “Really? What for? Is this building even zoned for that?”
Luke takes a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee before he responds. “Sweetheart, you’re asking if this old gas station,” he lifts his chin and leans toward me, “is zoned for mechanic work?”