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Morgan had to deal with a lot of obnoxious customers, as did any poor soul unfortunate enough to work in the food industry. Which was probably why she'd practically jumped at the chance to run the graveyard shift the moment the coffee shop she worked for decided to extend its business hours. Apparently, they thought there was enough of a demand to justify keeping the shop open even into the wee morning hours. There wasn't, but she certainly wouldn't be the one to tell them that.
Compared to the morning rush, the night shift was like a walk in the park--if the park was completely desolate save for a few random caffeine addicted insomniacs. No, she definitely planned on riding out this gravy train for as long as they'd let her. Sure, it was a little boring at times but she harbored zero desire to be berated by the never ending stream of pretentious businessmen and snooty Karens that cycled through the doors the moment the sun began to rise. And it probably would have stayed that way too, had he not shown up. He, being the devilishly handsome suit who had decided to make it his personal mission to make her life a living hell.
At first, she'd hated him, the way he breezed in at all unholy hours of the night, an arsenal of backhanded compliments and a bouquet of audacity in hand. He was shady AF, the kind of guy you'd read about in one of those smutty mafia romance novels. You know, the alpha males that you absolutely loathed and yet in the same breath you secretly wished would take you to the back office and ravish you senseless.
"What can I get you tonight, sir?" she asked, her voice dripping with sugary syrup. It seemed to greatly irk him when he couldn't worm his way beneath her skin, and she took great pride in the watching his eye twitch.
"Now, darling. What did I tell you?" He spoke with an eloquent lit to his voice, the kind that belied the gangster vibes she'd initially pegged him for, and instead reminded her of an exaggerated super villain from a 90's hero movie--a really hot super villain from a 90's hero movie. "There's no need to be so formal. Please, call me Alex."
She stared pointedly at him, doing her best to keep her customer service smile plastered on her face. "So, the usual?"
Irritation flashed in his yes, but he smirked wickedly, leaning forward on the counter. "Yes, but add an extra pump of syrup, please."
It took all her self-control to keep a neutral expression on her face as she nodded and turned to prepare his drink. Magic was fairly common, nearly everyone had a bit of it coursing through their blood, and while there were a few exceptional individuals who found themselves blessed with extraordinary abilities, Morgan fell in with the majority. Her gift wasn't particularly useful, not like the ability to instantly boil water, but it did come in handy. Like now, for instance.
As she went through the motions of preparing his drink, she was careful to keep her back to the counter and her hands out of his line of sight. Certain he couldn't see what she was doing she twitched her index finger over the top of the cup, sending a tiny flurry of golden sparks into the frothy brew. She bit back a grin as she secured the lid, eager to see his reaction today. As far as super powers went, the ability to alter the flavor profile of sugar was a pretty boring one, but she was a petty queen, and the ability to create minor inconveniences for people who annoyed her gave her life.
There was something extremely comical about seeing someone who possessed a threatening aura like Alex unable to stand the taste of coffee And he'd have to hate the taste based off the sheer amount of sugar he'd demanded she put into his drink the first time they'd met. It's why she'd started tweaking the flavor of his drink to begin with, in the hopes that he'd decide to search for a better--more enjoyable-- brand somewhere else. However, he kept coming back, even when his drink probably rivaled the bitterness of straight baking cocoa.
That's when she'd realized. He wasn't coming for the coffee, he was coming for her.
"Here you go!" She slid the cup of coffee across the counter, beaming up at him.
He popped off the lid. Long elegant fingers curled around the delicate cup as he brought it to his lips and blew. "You know," he began, no doubt trying to prolong drinking the atrocity in his hand. "You work in a coffee shop and yet I never see you drinking any coffee. Do you not like it?"
She adjusted her apron. "I do, but I try to limit myself so I'm not running back and forth to the restroom all night."
"Ah, I see." he murmured, blowing across the top of the cup and for a moment, she was distracted by the sensual pout of his lips. Bracing himself, her brought the cup to those sensual lips as he took a delicate sip. His expression instantly soured as he wrestled against the instinct to pucker up from the sheer bitterness currently assaulting his tastebuds.
"Is it not to your liking?" she asked, innocently.
"No, not at all." He grimaced, wresting his mouth into something that resembled strained pleasantness. "Delightful as always. In fact, this might be the best cup yet." Then, as if to prove a point, he brought it back to his lips and took another drink.
She coughed into the crook of her arm to cover her laugh. A better person would have probably stopped sabotaging his coffee already, but Morgan had never even claimed to be a good person--much less a better one.
"So," he tried again, sitting the cup down on the counter. "How do you likeyour coffee?"
"Me?" She asked, surprised by the question. After a moment of thought it came to her. "Well, you see. I like my coffee how I like my men."
He perked up at that, his interest clearly piqued. "Oh? And how's that?"
She leaned back, crossing her arms as she sized him up. Then, with a taunting look she said. "Guess."
Humming thoughtfully, he drummed his fingers across the bar and she was once again distracted. The thoughts of what they'd feel like on her skin ticking the back of her mind and making something flutter in her chest. "How you like your men," he mused. "Rich?"
"Nope."
"First thing in the morning?"
She snorted, shaking her head. "Try again."
He eyed her appraisingly, and a devious smile curled one corner of his mouth. "Strong enough to keep you up all night."
She choked on a laugh, heat warming her cheeks. "No, you perv. Get your head out of the gutter!"
His grin widened, a flash of a pointed incisor catching in the light. "Alright then. I give up."
She leaned in, motioning him forward conspiratorially. When his face was only a few inches from hers, she whispered. "Ground up and put in the freezer."
The brief widening of his eyes was all the warning she got before his laugher rang out in the empty shop. Rich and warm it sent delightful tingles radiating down her spine where they settle low in her belly. Then, he smiled at her. A real genuine smile that threatened to steal the air from her lungs. "Well, aren't you just full of surprises."
"More than you know," she replied, cheekily. She motioned to his cup, still sitting on the counter. When he offered it to her she popped the lid back on his then proceeded to scribble her number on the side before sliding it back to him. "And here's another one."
The way his expression morphed from confused to sheer delight, then to a spectacularly failed attempt at indifference, was beautiful thing to behold. He cleared his throat, trying to save face even as the tops of his cheek bones flushed pink. "I'll, uh. I'll call you then?"
"You better," she grinned watching the way his eyes kept jumping back to her number messily scrawled across the cup as if he had to remind himself it was really there. Maybe now would be a good time to stop screwing with his drinks, that's what a good person would do, anyway. But, then again...Morgan had never claimed to be a good person.