by Terry Towers
Gabriel chuckled. "I really want to know. Wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
Beth huffed. "Well, the problem is that I just can't catch a break."
"Can't catch a break?" Grabbing a bill from his trousers pocket he passed it to her as he accepted the coffee. "Why do you say that?"
Accepting the payment she rang in his total and proceeded to give him his change.
When she offered it to him, as usual, he waved it off so she dropped it into her tip jar.
The tip equalled roughly three times the cost of the coffee; he was easily the best tipper to walk through the doors of the coffee shop.
"Well, I'm halfway through college and there is no way I'm going to afford to be able to go back next year. I can barely pay my bills even with all the overtime I put in this place. Like, take this week for instance. I have a choice... do I pay my electricity or my telephone bill?"
Gabriel nodded appearing grim, but amusement gleamed in his eyes as she continued on. All of a sudden the dam broke and the need to purge her grievances was too overwhelming so she continued her rant, the words falling from her lips like verbal diarrhoea that she was helpless to stop. "So that means I'm stuck here. At the shitty dead end job for another year. Hell, maybe even the rest of my life! I'm twenty-three years old and facing a lifetime of being the donut girl. It wouldn't even be so bad if I had a boyfriend, or hell, got laid once in a while. But no. None of that either. The only men I seem to attract are criminals, married men or unemployed losers." Beth huffed and shook her head in defeat. "Just can't catch a break..."
Nodding, a smile spread across Gabriel's lips as he raised a brow at her. "Well as far as the telephone and electricity issues go I might be able to help you there."
Frowning, Beth caught his eyes. Her heart stopping for a moment and her face flushed.
Oh-my-God. She groaned inwardly. Now he thinks I'm some sex starved charity case. She prayed for death at that moment. Though looking at him, his dark eyes burrowing into hers, she knew she'd have told him anything he wanted to know. Somehow she doubted many women could resist answering any questions or fulfilling any request he may send their way.
Feeling the heat rush up to her cheeks, Beth shook her head. "No. No, I wasn't implying or hinting. I-"
Gabriel's grin widened. "So you don't want a better job?'' He shrugged, "Or at least a better paying job. Not sure if I would say better."
"W-well. No, I do. I mean, I didn't mean to be looking for handouts. I just-"
"Can you cook?" Gabriel asked laughing outright as he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and producing a business card which he passed to her.
The heat in her cheeks intensified and she nibbled lightly on her lower lip. "Macaroni and cheese." she joked. Could she cook? He had to be joking. She had to be the worst cook she knew. Nothing ever seemed to turn out right, no matter how much time or effort she took to prepare a meal. She overcooked everything. Some people were meant to be domestic; she wasn't one of those people.
Taking the card from him, she glanced down at it. "Gabriel Reynolds Enterprises."
"Yeah, that's me," he confirmed, with a disinterested shrug.
She looked up from the card to meet his eyes. She had no idea what Gabriel Reynolds Enterprises was, but he seemed to be awfully young to be running anything. He couldn't have been a day over thirty.
"You know what," reaching back into his inner pocket, he produced a silver pen, retrieved the card from her fingertips and quickly jotted down a phone number and address. "I have to go. I have a meeting in ten minutes, but give me a call tonight, we'll arrange a meeting and see what we can figure out for you."
Beth accepted the extended card once again, and decided to ask the question that was at the forefront of her mind. "Why would you do this for me?"
Snatching his coffee from the counter he grinned at her, and gave her a wink, sending her pulse racing. "Maybe I like the way you make my coffee."
Rolling her eyes at him, she couldn't help but grin; his smile was infectious. "I press a button on a machine and it pours it into a cup..."
"Call me tonight," he called over his shoulder ignoring her comment, as he rushed across the dining room and out the front door.
Beth watched as he strode across the parking lot, taking long, graceful strides.
Working for Gabriel... Cooking? She tapped her lower lip with the edge of the business card as she watch him slide into his black Lamborghini, pull out of the parking slot and speed away. She made a mental note to do an online search for Gabriel Reynolds Enterprises when she arrived home. Maybe he owned a chain of restaurants? She had always assumed he was some sort of hotshot lawyer, or something of the sort. Whatever it was that he did for a living, considering the expensive car, finely tailored suit and large tips he always gave her for a single cup of coffee, Beth guessed that business was very good for Mr Reynolds.