Café Mocha
by Brynette L. Turner
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 by Brynette L. Turner
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book or artwork may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author or artist, except where permitted by law.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter One
Heat seeped through the coffee cup; perfect warmth for this October morning. Unlike most of the café’s patrons, Sherry preferred to sit on the veranda enjoying the contrast of cold air to warm sunshine. In addition to the huge ceramic mug of the Caramel Caress specialty drink that spread heat into her hands, a lined knit jacket and fleece scarf set kept away the moist fall chill. Her laptop sat on the latticed iron-work patio table, as yet unopened although the self-employed proofreader had plenty of work to review.
She sipped the still-hot caramel-flavored coffee and tried not to be obvious in her observation of the café’s owner. Now that was a delicious mocha man. Deep reddish-brown skin. Creamy chocolate eyes. Close-cut hair so dark it was almost black. Yum.
His smile and eyes usually twinkled when he was serving her. And their fingers often touched for just a little longer than required as she offered money and he gave change. Now, she could see him restocking the pastries, wiping the counters, and casting an occasional glance in her direction—presumably to make sure a refill wasn’t necessary. Of course, she wasn’t going to comment on the vibe between them that said his interest was more than that. Sherry would simply enjoy her coffee and play along with their casual friendliness the way she always had, the same as every other patron. After all, the special attention was why the café was so popular. Disposable cups were used for carryout orders, but everyone else enjoyed their warm beverages in ceramic mugs. Much-appreciated personal touches. Great ambiance. Those were definitely factors in why she drove past three franchised coffee shops to patronize this small privately-owned café.
Add sexy scenery.
Reluctantly, Sherry unzipped the laptop case and pulled out her mobile office: computer, smart phone, handheld Yahtzee (to clear her mind between assignments). All set. Finally engrossed in her work, she blocked out the entrance and exit of customers, so she wouldn’t have noticed Omarion standing in front of her if his form hadn’t cast a shadow over the table.
“Turkey, cheddar, and lettuce on a whole wheat bun, a refill of Caramel Caress, and a large glass of water,” he was saying as he placed a tray on the table.
“But, I—”
“It’s nearly noon and you probably didn’t eat breakfast. In fact, you didn’t even take a Yahtzee break.” He chuckled at her stunned expression before explaining. “You’ve been here a day or two of every week since May; I notice things. Now, it’s time for you to take a break to at least eat something,” he commanded as he removed the empty mug and turned.
“Wait!” She dug into a pocket for money but he waved it away. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes held hers, one side of his lips lifted in a slight smile, and he seemed unable to stop the small sigh that lifted his chest.
Sherry’s heart jumped. Or did she imagine it?
She watched him walk away and made herself take a bite of the sandwich. This was moist, oven-roasted turkey and definitely not some processed lunch meat. Her mouth watered in satisfaction. She swallowed, smiled at his thoughtfulness, and took a sip of the fresh, hot drink.
Omarion must have been in the office or storage room when Sherry took the tray inside and set it on a rack beside the condiments. She looked around for him, not that there was much chance of missing him in either of the sections of the café where customers could be seated. He was tall, well over six feet tall with a reddish tone to his brown skin and creamy eyes. The man would have stood out among the clusters of tables, gliders, small sofas, and oversized chairs, that created cozy but still very visible groupings.
The normally friendly woman at the counter thanked her for returning the tray while somehow remaining aloof. Her eyes hadn’t left Sherry from the moment she’d risen from the outdoor table after enjoying her sandwich. Hmm, the boss obviously wasn’t the only person who noticed things.
Sherry might have gone back to Café Mocha the next morning if she hadn’t needed to be in Cincinnati for an early meeting. Once on the freeway, she repeatedly slurped, and frowned at, the lukewarm and bitter vanilla-flavored java from one of the national chains before deciding to switch to Pepsi until she could return to Columbus and her much-loved Caramel Caress. Unfortunately, the café would close at six o’clock. Freeway and evening rush-hour traffic meant that she probably wouldn’t make it back to Columbus before then. With a pout, she wondered why Omarion had set the store on a 12-hour schedule instead of staying open until 9 p.m. or later, like other coffee shops? Then she laughed at her obvious caffeine addiction.
Well, maybe she wanted more than just a cup of coffee, she thought. After all, she didn’t get a chance to thank him for the delicious sandwich. And she had been handing out at Café Mocha more regularly. While she wasn’t quite ready to explore the feelings for the sexy owner, she couldn’t deny they were growing.
That following day’s weather was unseasonably warm with sunshine so intense that it would probably knock the chill out of the air well before noon. So, when she walked into the café, Sherry simply wore an oversized sweater, jeans, and low-heeled ankle boots.
“Sexy,” she thought she heard Omarion sigh as she approached the counter. What came out clearly was, “Good morning. Ready for a large Caress?”
“Definitely,” sounded a little too intimate and her embarrassed blush made him laugh, which in turn made her laugh and shake her head. Again, he refused to take any money and offered to bring her drink outside. Sherry noticed that the other clerk discretely watched them from the opposite end of the café and was sure Omarion had seen the woman frown at his lingering attention.
After settling at her usual table, Sherry pulled out her laptop and opened the file that her newest client had forwarded late last night. Within a few minutes, the owner was sitting in a chair opposite her. That was a first.
“Excuse my sister,” he began. “Rosalee is a little protective.”
“No problem.” Sherry shrugged and reached for the mug without taking her attention fully away from the computer screen. His hand very lightly and briefly rested on hers, but it was definitely more than an accidental brush and made her look up. A second mug was on the table—his. Another first.
“You come here all the time, but we’ve never done more than exchange names and coffee orders. So, I thought that maybe we could talk about something other than coffee and get to know each other while you take your break.” He lifted his mug, took a swallow, and watched as she typed a few more words into her computer.
Sherry finally looked directly at him before also lifting her mug and taking a deep whiff of aromatic steam and a cautious sip of the hot liquid. It was delicious, as always, with extra caramel and the whip cream stirred inside. Warmth spread from the ceramic and into her fingers while satisfaction flowed down the back of her
throat and settled in her belly.
“Okay, let’s talk.” She gently set the mug down and folded her hands on the closed laptop. “I’m curious to know why your sister is feeling protective around me.”
“Because she knows I like you even though you aren’t African and that you like me, even though you don’t know it yet.” He smiled, she laughed. “That’s a beautiful sound,” was spoken so softly that it made her pause. Then he continued with, “She knows you intrigue me because you’re pleasant, and brilliant, and exquisite.”
An obligatory “thank you” slipped across her lips before she quickly added, “but I’m not comfortable with such compliments.”
“You should get comfortable. I intend to give you a lot of them unless you get scared about liking me and stop coming to my café.”
Sherry stared at him, a little caught off guard by his boldness but also a bit amused. Brilliant and beautiful could be used to describe the smile he gave her. Were his eyes laughing at her or challenging her? She decided on the latter and also decided to enjoy the intimate bubble that seemed to have wrapped around them on this one section of the small outdoor patio.
“Your logic assumes that if I don’t stop coming, then I do like you and that I’m not frightened. Yet, one has nothing to do with the others. I could like you and not be afraid but still stop coming. Or, I could not like you and not be afraid but still stop coming. Or I could keep coming for the wonderful coffee without liking you, even if I’m afraid of telling you that you’re wrong.”
“Am I wrong?” Omarion asked very quietly. That teasing glint was still in his eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, Sherry watched a group of laughing customers enter the building and his sister look anxiously out the window. He had to have noticed and chosen to ignore the other woman.
“Maybe I’m afraid and will buy my coffee from someplace else.” She shrugged.
He laughed, asked her not run away just yet, took her mug to freshen the drink, and went inside to help with the patrons. Café Mocha was a small shop with two seating sections, one of mostly tables and another of mostly comfortable furniture grouped to allow for intimate conversation. Some people chose to study or work while others lounged and socialized, and the patrons were quite an eclectic mix of cultures and income levels.
Sherry watched as the owner greeted obvious regulars. Oh, she liked him all right. Sexy, smart, funny, and gorgeous. Should she call a man gorgeous? Well, he was. More customers entered the shop, so she turned her focus back to the laptop, not realizing that she was grinning.
Almost fifteen minutes passed before Omarion was able to rejoin her. Apparently, he was hoping she’d wait on that fresh Caramel Caress because it didn’t appear until he had time to continue their conversation.
“So, will you go out with me?” he wanted to know. This time when he set the mug on the table, he actually reached down and covered her hand with his, encouraged by the fact that she didn’t pull away. Again, that small jolt of electricity passed between them. “Rosalee is leaving, so I’ve got to work the counter. Just tell me what you like to do—besides work and play Yahtzee—and I’ll make the plans.”
“Can I tell you tomorrow?” Sherry had to shield her eyes from the sun behind him since he hadn’t sat.
“If you promise to come tomorrow, then yes.”
“I promise,” came out through a small smile. Finally, he removed his hand and headed back into the building.
That next morning, Sherry was still wondering what was a safe first date and asked herself whether it had been so long since her last one that she couldn’t think of anything. She checked a few ideas online and thought about which ones might be fun. Then she showered, dressed, and headed out to satisfy her caffeine addiction.
“Hello,” was the warm greeting from Rosalee, which caught Sherry by surprise. Gone was the suspicious detachment. “The air is back to being cold today. Would you like to try our new cinnamon-vanilla coffee? I can always stir in some whipped cream to make it a caress.”
“That sounds good. Thank you.” But as Sherry reached for money, the woman stopped her.
“Omar says you’re not allowed to pay anymore.”
“Really?”
Rosalee nodded and drizzled cinnamon syrup into a mug.
Sherry decided to make good use of the good will the other woman was showing and ask whether Omarion might like any of the ideas she’d come up with for their date. Within minutes, she knew exactly what she wanted them to do.
She sipped the drink and thanked Rosalee before looking at the dark clouds drifting across the dull sky and deciding the weather was too cold and would probably become too damp for her to sit outdoors. Instead, she slid onto the cushioned seat attached to the entire rear wall. As she took her computer out of the case, she wondered when Omarion would arrive. Since a tiny bell jingled each time the front door opened or closed, her eyes kept flicking toward the sound to see whether he had arrived. She was having a hard time concentrating on the project that was due by midnight. That bell was probably one of the reasons she preferred to work outside. With a frustrated sigh, she admitted that nothing was getting done.
Maybe she should leave.
Just as she was zipping shut the leather computer case, Omar strode in and said something to Rosalee in their native language. After a short exchange where both of them were obviously frustrated, she grabbed her purse and rushed out. He was way too agitated to have noticed Sherry, so she sat quietly until he serviced the other customers. Despite the months of coming to the café, she’d never seen him even slightly irritated; today was definitely out of the ordinary.
Now that she was paying attention, it was the first time Sherry actually noticed the resemblance between Omarion and Rosalee. Perhaps that was because he was so much taller than his sibling. He towered over her by at least a foot and a half. Still, they did have similar features and the same dark hair, even though Rosalee’s skin tone was a bit lighter than her brother’s.
With the counter clear of patrons, Omarion had a chance to look around and finally saw Sherry. Was that relief that pushed away some of his tenseness? He weaved through the wrought iron tables, speaking to regular patrons as he made his way to her.
“You weren’t outside. I thought you’d either changed your mind or already left.”
“It’s too cold.” Sherry laid a hand over his and asked, “Is everything alright?”
“Just a family problem that my sister needs to handle.” Impatience flashed across his features before he recovered enough to smile for her. “Are you ready to tell me what you like to do so I can plan our first date?”
“Actually, I thought of a specific activity that I’m hoping you’ll like, but I didn’t call to see whether tickets are available.” She explained about the mystery dinner theater on Columbus’s eastside. He was fascinated and pleased and said he’d check on it. Hopefully this weekend’s shows weren’t sold out. Sherry was explaining that she needed to leave just as another customer was entering the café, so, she gave him her cell phone number and made a quick exit.
He called that evening to say that Friday’s show was booked but that he was able to reserve tickets for Saturday. He sounded as excited about the date as Sherry felt, which gave her a bit of confidence that perhaps it might be a good choice. Not knowing much about each other made picking a date place awkward, even though they weren’t teenagers and one would think it was time to outgrow such nervousness.
Apparently not.
Chapter Two
Sherry rifled through her closet for something to wear. As was typical for early-October, the weather had been unpredictable all week—warm two days ago, cold yesterday, and potentially rainy for their date. Versatility would be important. So, she selected a long, lightweight wool skirt and a jacket that could serve as a shirt if the weather was warm enough.
About an hour before Omarion was supposed to arrive, Sherry arranged her hair in an up-do, selected shoulder-tickler earring that were interesting but not too
elaborate, and added boots and a turtleneck to the pre-selected attire. She completed the look with a chocolate cashmere wrap then studied her reflection in the mirror. Like Omarion, her hair was nearly black; but her skin tone was more like toasted hazelnuts. They would make an attractive couple.
He arrived exactly on time. But, as her mother had taught when Sherry was first liking boys, a young lady never answers a phone or door on the first ring: never seem too anxious. Now she counted to three after the second ring before swinging open the apartment door.
Wow! She marveled that their minds must have been on the same wavelength. He wore a tan suede jacket over brown turtleneck and slacks. Again, she thought of him as a delicious mocha man with cinnamon skin and chocolate eyes. The familiar and intimate electrical current crackled in the air.
They both eyed each other and laughed.
“This is a good omen,” he pronounced.
“Maybe,” she conceded before disappearing into the kitchen to get her purse and keys. What she really wanted to do was drag that sexy man into her arms and taste him, but this was a first date and she was raised better. She would keep reminding herself of that all evening.
As things turned out, the choice of clothing was definitely a sign of them having similar interests. Small talk on the drive to the restaurant was pleasant, and they absolutely enjoyed the theatrical production. They’d each come to the same conclusion about the whodunit—and they were both wrong. It had been a very well-written and thought-provoking plot with social justice implications on a variety of topics.
They passionately debated and teased one another about the process by which they’d arrived at those incorrect conclusions.
Still, it wasn’t even eleven o’clock when Omarion opened the car door for his companion to slide inside. The dinner theater was an excellent idea, especially in case the evening wasn’t going well—no uncomfortable excuses to end the date early. But they weren’t in that situation. What to do next presented a slight problem.
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