The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises

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You wanted the best for me? Mel was glad her mother couldn’t see the grimace on her face. When had she ever wanted the best for her?

‘Now, since you’re not with child, you sleep on this perfectly comfortable-looking couch and I’ll take your bed.’ She felt a kiss brush the top of her head. ‘There’s a good girl.’

***

Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling.

‘You kids stop playing with the door before I throw an overcooked muffin at your heads. Now get out of here and get to school,’ Mel yelled, searching for a pen underneath the sofa where customers usually waited for their takeaway coffees.

‘Nice arse!’

Mel nearly hit her head in shock. What kid in town had a baritone voice, let alone the cheek to say that to her?

‘Woohoo! Breakfast and a show!’

‘You lot. Cut that out. Show the lady some respect. She’s about to cook you the finest breakfast you’ve ever had.’

Mel wiggled her way backwards from under the sofa and stood up, clutching the pen. She smiled gratefully at Tony, who was staring in irritation at the rugby team as they piled into the café, their big frames filling up her chairs and tables, their aroma of deodorant and sweat competing with the aroma of freshly baked bread.

What was that look all about? And why were his fists clenched? Because they’d gone all caveman on her? Was he…? She flicked the idea away. No. Surely not. He couldn’t be jealous… just acting jealous, in case her mother was around. Acting like an overprotective fiancé. And speaking of her mother… was she still in bed?

Mel checked the time on the whitewashed reindeer clock on the wall that was surrounded by retro mirror art. Just past ten and she was still sleeping? She’d hoped she might have the decency to come and give her a hand this morning, maybe put together a few paninis or ice a cake, but no, that would mean Valerie was doing something for someone else for a change. And since helping her daughter out would serve no benefit to her it was never going to happen. Mel gritted her teeth in self-directed irritation. When would she stop giving her mother the benefit of the doubt?

Tony placed his hand on Mel’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. ‘Are you going to keep perving at the players or are you going to thank me?’

Mel considered shrugging his hand off. With no mother about there was no reason to act all touchy-feely with each other, but it felt warm, safe… possessive. Like he actually cared for her well-being. The hand on shoulder could stay, she decided. ‘Thank you for what? Bringing business into the café or giving me a cheap thrill? It’s nice to know my “arse” is still considered “nice”, even if the compliment came from a guy who I’m pretty sure might be closely related to a Neanderthal.’

Mel met Tony’s eyes. The irritation had abated, but she couldn’t miss the way he kept flicking his gaze between her and the players, as if making sure they were ignoring her, showing the lady ‘some respect’. Maybe he was being territorial? Or maybe he simply didn’t like women being treated like meat. Perhaps there was more to Tony than just a good time.

‘Thanks for defending my honour back there.’ She resisted the temptation to bat her eyelashes and add ‘my hero’. The last thing she needed to do was make the mess they were in even more muddled by flirting with Tony.

‘Well, I couldn’t have my betrothed being admired by other men and not say something. It would be unseemly. Um, small question, Mel…’ He lowered his voice and dropped his head closer to hers. ‘How are we going to explain our engagement to the town? Because I get the feeling your mother will not be discreet about it…’

Bugger. Mel hadn’t thought about that. She hadn’t really thought any of it through. Her heart began to race. What had she been thinking, coming up with such a mad-hat idea? She should’ve just agreed to help Tony with his business and told her mother a white lie about her fiancé being out of town for work. Now she was stuck with a fiancé known for being a commitment-phobe and a mother who would probably marry them right then and there if she could. Her mother’s obsession with marriage was a mystery to Mel, but ever since she’d been born, that was all she’d done – meet and marry, meet and marry – and for some reason, despite its never having worked for her, she thought her daughter should do the same. Mel inwardly grimaced. It wasn’t like she had anything against marriage, but if she was going to do it she was going to do it right, with the right man, not the kind of men her mother had shacked up with.

‘Okay, okay okay.’ The words came quick, hurried. Tinged with heart-pumping panic. ‘We need to sort this out, now.’

She grabbed Tony by his shirt and pulled him behind the counter, ignoring the ‘you get ‘em’ cheers of the rugby players who seemed to think they were witnessing a passionate moment.

Ow! Her ankle caught on the metal leg of her kitchen table and she lost her balance, sending them falling backwards. She prepared for a second wave of pain as her back headed towards the lip of the stainless-steel bench. Instead, it was cushioned by something warm and soft, yet strong. Tony’s arms, she realised, as she saw a twinge of pain hit his eyes.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, furrows of concern appearing between his brows. ‘Did you hurt yourself?’

A stray blond curl flopped onto his forehead. It looked so silky. She fought the urge to reach up, wrap it around her fingers to discover whether it was as silken as she suspected, whether it would spring up if she pulled it down and released.

‘Are you winded? Are you in a whole heap of pain? You’re looking pretty dazed right now.’

She focused on his lips. Full, soft, yet no doubt capable of being hard, passionate. If she just stood on tippy toes she’d be able to reach those lips… be able to kiss them…

‘Should I be calling an ambulance?’

She blinked. Once. Twice. A handful of times. What had she been thinking? Kissing Tony? Was she mental? That’d only complicate an already messy situation.

‘I’m… fine.’

She was also dry. Who knew a hot wave of lust could make you so thirsty. She turned around in his arms, reached over for a glass and…

Hello. She felt something prod against her lower back. Hard. Thick. Long. Something that had a reputation for pleasing women far and wide. Should she pretend she had no idea? That’d be the polite thing to do. She grabbed a glass, filled it with water and turned back to Tony, who still hadn’t released her from his grasp. Not that she was complaining.

She sipped the water. Watching him watching her as the cool water wet her lips. Beaded on them.

His throat worked as he tried to swallow. Who knew Tony, stud of the land, could get so het up?

‘Water?’ She offered him the tumbler. ‘You look like you need it.’ She glanced down at the bulge-fest. ‘Feels like you need it, too.’

A slow smile spread over Tony’s face. Damn it. She should’ve kept her mouth shut. Zipped it up and glued it for good measure. But this ridiculous, simmering attraction that kept flaring between them made her feel reckless. She closed her eyes. If she stared at those lips, that smile, that face one second longer she’d lose all control.

She was not going to lose control. Kissing her fiancé was not an option.

The glasses in the kitchen cabinet began to rattle as a soft footfall grew louder. Her mother was up, and coming down the stairs. Mel breathed a sigh of relief. Good. For once her timing was perfect.

‘Morning, Mum,’ she called, bright and cheery while trying to disentangle herself from Tony.

‘Morn…’ Valerie stopped short as she surveyed the scene before her.

Mel knew what it looked like. Two lovers caught in a clinch. A good thing, perhaps? At least it made their relationship look real.

Valerie’s hand flew to her eyes, shielding them from sight. ‘Oh! Don’t let me stop you, you little lovebirds. Enjoying a touch of romance in the morning. How adorable! Go on… I’ll just be making a cup of tea. Don’t let me interrupt you.’ She dropped her hand and gave them a wink, before flicking on the kettle.