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“You know, following Christine to her place of work is stalking, and is illegal.” Meg rested her hip to the table, crossing her arms, leaning forward to burn holes into the man’s masked face.
His mismatched eyes flickered down, quick enough almost to not be noticed, but Meg had been working at this café for enough months to know when patrons were scoping.
“I’ll just have a black coffee. Thank you,” his rich Voice responded, folding the menu, sliding it over the table to bump into her hip. His eyes shut, and he rested his elbows to the table, hands folded in front like he wasn’t going to even acknowledge her properly.
Heat shot up her scrunched face, and Meg leaned in further. “I’ll report you.”
His eyes peeked open. “For what?” he inquired innocently.
Meg opened her mouth, inhaling, her brows knitting as she thought. “For any funny business,” she finally retorted, smiling smugly, scrutinizing him under heavy lashes.
The man looked at her then at the name tag clipped to her frilly apron. “Well—Meg—I am simply patronizing like any other honest customer here.”
Meg snorted, and set her palm flat to the table. “Ah. So then you won’t mind if I am the one to serve you rather than Christine, will you?”
He shut his eyes. “No.”
Meg scowled, her cheeks blooming red. She thought she’d have him with that one. “Well—well, fine then. I’ll get your coffee right away!” She started to spin away.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he said, holding traces of a smirk on his visible lip.
Meg gritted her teeth, and clenched the serving tray. “I’ll be right back—Master.”