On Wednesday Seth stops in and orders his usual. While I’m making the drink, he tells me he might not be in tomorrow morning. “I’m going to see you in the afternoon, anyway,” he says with a wink. “We’re still on for tomorrow, right?”
I fumble with the metal carafe of milk I’m steaming and the wand falls out of the liquid, splashing hot froth onto my arms and neck. Smooth, Austin. I’m such a klutz around this guy. How’s he even find that attractive? “Tomorrow, yeah,” I agree, wiping my face with the bottom of my apron.
Seth’s mouth curves into a slow smile. “It’s a date.”
Great, as if I’m not already nervous enough. The next day I’m a wreck. I’m clumsy with nerves, scattering the beans as I try to fill the coffee grinder, splashing hot coffee from the pot to the urn, spilling the milk. W
