by BLMorticia
Done with the morning duties, Brendan headed for the shower. He slid the door open, twisted the dials until the water was scalding. While grabbing his shower gel, Brendan pressed the on button for his sound system to change his mood. He needed that or the rest of his day wouldn't amount to much of anything.
Sounds of saxophones and bass guitars blared through the speakers in the walls making Brendan lose himself in the music. He stood under the hot spray, letting it cascade over his head and body. Brendan leaned against the wall, enjoying the water loosening his muscles. He cupped his hands under the shower head and splashed his cheeks. That movement finally woke him from the doldrums, making him feel alive. Brendan wished he could experience that feeling for the rest of the day, but going into Walsh Towers, he highly doubted it.
Before long, the water turned cold, forcing Brendan out to face the reality of work. He stepped out, grabbing the nearest towel to dry off with. While doing so, he looked at himself in the mirror.
"I hate this haircut."
Brendan loathed the new do his father's barber gave him. He'd wanted to grow it out, but as Alexander Walsh always did, he interfered, no make that bombarded his way into Brendan's life. And unfortunately, Brendan didn't possess the balls to tell the man to back off.
Just as he finished, his cell phone rang an unfriendly tune.
"Speaking of the devil." Brendan threw his towel over his shoulder and walked into his bedroom. He eyed his phone, wondering if he should ignore the call or pick up.
"Shh--"
Brendan sighed inwardly and did the latter. He thought he might as well instead of waiting for his father to bug him when he got into the office. "Good morning, dad."
"Ah, Brendan. Good to see you're awake. Listen. I'd like you to come to dinner with me and Dwight Harrisford this evening. He has a very, pretty daughter you might like to get to know better.
Brendan eyed the ceiling above. "No thanks, dad. I have work to do this evening and besides--"
"Oh, Brendan," he laughed. "While I appreciate you wanting to get a head start on this month's fiscal projections, but you are allowed to take time out for yourself."
Only for the things you want me to do.
Brendan harrumphed. His father didn't care what Brendan wanted, only what he felt would further his social standing or his company brand.
"Yeah, well, I'm not in the mood for socializing. I'd be horrible company and how many times do I have to remind you[?]"
"Brendan, please don't remind me of your ... um... preferences. Like I've said before, you haven't done anything to meet a pretty woman. I intend to change that tonight. I'll have Gilbert pick you up at 7:30."
"Dad, no--"
"No lip, all right? I want to find you a suitable wife before I go back to California. I can't have you shacking up with just anyone before I hand you the keys to Walsh, especially not a man. I won't allow you to run this business as an embarrassment. Now, I'll see you in the office in about an hour. Please be prompt. Goodbye."
"Goodbye." Brendan gripped it tight and tossed it on the bed. He gritted his teeth and released a ragged breath, wishing he could drop into the nearest hole and disappear.
Can I fake sick today?
The tension in Brendan's neck returned. He inhaled then exhaled again and rolled his shoulders.
I can do this.
Pissing Alexander off would mean another lecture he wasn't prepared to handle.
If only...
Brendan stared at his feet before dropping on the bed. Talking to Alexander those few minutes caused his body to ache in places he'd never had discomfort.
At his college graduation, his brother, Brian, warned him about allowing Dad to take over his life, but Brendan ignored those cautions. Two years, three takeovers, and many sleepless nights later, Brendan knew that was the wrong decision.
"Latte? Hand me a couple of juices and a bottle of water will ya?" Derrick called over his shoulder.
"In a minute. My hands are kind of full here." Latte stirred the cream into one coffee while he poured another. "Just a minute, Miss Lady. Apparently, my partner believes I'm an octopus," he laughed.
"No worries, baby. Take your time. I love watching you work."
Latte flashed her a wry grin.
She swiped her tongue over her ruby red lips and winked.
Oh boy.
Latte turned around and grabbed what Derrick wanted, passing all the items to him then whizzing back to the counter. "All right. Here you go, Belinda. One hazelnut, one tall caramel latte."
"Thanks, babe. Did you lose my number? I swear you're a tease. You should've never taken it if you weren't gonna use it."
"I'm a real, busy man. I don't call anyone once I leave this place." Latte gazed at his next customers and started their coffees.
"Latte, you know you need to call her right away once you accept the digits," Derrick responded with a laugh. "That trick might've worked down south, but up here, women are a lot less patient."
"Well, I apologize, Miss Belinda. Like I said, I been busy." He reached into his apron and slid a business card across the glass. "Here you go. Why don't you take it back until I can use it?"
The ladies behind her whispered and sneered in jest.
"Damn, Latte. You can't be that busy." Belinda snarled.
"I am. Like I said, in the meantime, keep your card and give it to someone else. You have a good day, you hear? Move along so I can help these good people behind you." Latte squeezed cream in the next two lattes and put them up on the counter. "Thanks ladies. Hi, sir what can I get you?"
Latte listened to the order and moved to the next one while he grabbed the milk for the male customer's frappuccino. He continued to move around without a hitch, not letting these nosy females get to him. Their constant chatter was only one part of his ten hour workday that started at five and ended at three. And once he left Cathy's Coffee Corner, he raced home to work on his next painting.
Boring as hell.
Even more so with no one special to fill his personal time.
With the move from New Orleans to Chicago, he fully expected his social and professional life to take a positive turn. Professionally, things were looking up with offers to display his work in local lounges and watering holes.
Romantically, however, things remained at a standstill. In his three months of wowing customers with his speedy delivery as well as his unbelievable memory, no one had remotely tickled his fancy. Women were good friends, people he could hang out with on occasion. Truthfully, Latte desired a man to make the move to the Midwest a much easier pill to swallow.
"Can I get a medium latte with soy milk and little sugar?" Cathy called out to him from the cash register.
Latte turned his head to watch Cathy chatting up who appeared to be a hot shot businessman.
Figures.
Latte twisted his lips and passed the next customers their cups.
Cathy, his boss, never turned down an opportunity to flirt while Latte was the exact opposite. He admired her for that and told her so when they talked.
If only a man interesting enough would come into the shop. He'd love to show Cathy the proper way to lay the charm on a potential boyfriend.
Chapter Two
With the cold wind whipping around him at high speeds, Brendan headed into the Walsh enterprises building. Instead of fighting the traffic from his condo, he decided to take an Uber and let the driver do the dirty work.
On the way, he noticed people braving the temps and jogging along the shore. He couldn't understand how anyone would willingly walk anywhere in Chicago during the harsh winters.
"Good morning, Mr. Walsh." A security guard greeted him, opening the door.
Brendan nodded politely and walked in. "Good morning. Angelo is it?"
"Yes, sir." He smiled wide and gave him a mock salute.
Brendan walked past and continued to the elevator. Though he wasn't in the best of moods, he tried to give everyone a positive look, unlike his father who
scowled. Brendan didn't want to be perceived as an ogre, so he made sure to keep a pleasant disposition.
"Good morning, sir."
More people saluted Brendan. He bowed his head, speaking back to each one.
"I could use some coffee." He removed his gloves and eyed his wristwatch.
7:56 a.m.
Brendan was due to meet his father for the morning conference call, but he needed something warm before he headed up for the boring meeting. Unfortunately, Brendan wouldn't be walking to his favorite java joint across the street.
Sighing, he turned on his heel and eyed the escalator leading to Vicella court. Named after his late mother, the lower level's colorful surroundings contrasted the grey marble walls and white floors that made up the main lobby of the Walsh Enterprise Headquarters. He boarded the escalator, smiling at the colorful mural dedicated to rhythm and blues musicians. Instead of the drabby white under his feet, the floors were a rich hardwood, leading to the center where tables with chairs, and counters along with black and blue couches filled the space.
Though Vicella passed away from breast cancer when he was ten, Brendan knew her to be a very vibrant woman. She loved live music and her wardrobe could rival any starlet in Hollywood.
Knowing his Dad, Brendan still found it unbelievable his mom and Alexander loved each other as much as they did. His father was nothing like her, and yet, they stayed married until she lost her battle almost seventeen years ago.
When Brendan made it to the bottom, he headed to Cathy's Coffee Corner. Cathy, and her father, Bill bought the smallest spot in the corner after he became president. The place was always busy, but Brendan hadn't recalled a long line like the one he saw now.
What's going on?
Free donuts? Coffee?
Brendan repositioned his shoulder case and went to join the line. Though over six feet, he couldn't tell what all the fuss was about. No signs, no extra fanfare. Still, people didn't seem to mind waiting for a cup of Cathy's coffee.
Brendan decided to use his position to get ahead.
Father would be proud.
"Excuse me." Brendan walked around a group of people who greeted him as he walked by. Doctors, lawyers, and other businessmen who owned space called him by name, telling him good morning.
"Yes, good morning." Brendan continued to go down the line until he arrived at the front. He eyed Cathy, one of her workers named Derrick, and another man he hadn't seen before.
Who is he?
Brendan drew up his lips and focused on the handsome man with what looked to be green eyes and a slender body. He watched the man make coffees at top rate speed without losing his concentration or stopping for so much of a breath. Brendan couldn't help being impressed with his work, but his appearance drew him in a lot more.
Curious, Brendan tapped one of the ladies in line. "Um, excuse me, are you all waiting for just coffee?"
"Yes, we are, Mr. Walsh. Latte makes awesome coffee and he's a pretty nice guy," she answered.
"Cute, too." Another blurted out to a chorus of female squeals.
His name is Latte?
"Thanks." Brendan shook his head and walked towards the exit, hoping Cathy would take pity and give him a caramel latte macchiato. Besides that, he hoped to get a closer look at everyone's new favorite barista.
Brendan figured he might as well make this trip worthwhile because he was very late. Alexander would have plenty of choice words for him when he finally got upstairs so he figured to catch up with Cathy and enjoy the hot hunk stirring coffee.
Approaching the counter, Brendan moved passed other tenants. He removed his coat and scarf, tossing both over his arm.
"Hello there, Cathy. I haven't seen you in a while."
"Oh, hi Brendan." Cathy, a blonde with blue eyes, smiled wide at Brendan. "Where have you been hiding?"
"In the office. Working hard as usual." Brendan looked away from her a moment to eye the popular worker, clothed in a tight black turtleneck that hugged his muscular shoulders.
Damn.
"Um, how is business here in the shop. Everything good?"
"Oh yeah. It's really picked up since we added some additional staff, especially my guy, Latte. He's a joy to have around."
"So, I see," Brendan swiped his tongue over his lips and focused on Latte's large, fast hands, mixing, squeezing, and stirring...
Damn.
Brendan bit back a moan. Watching him, his arousal grew underneath his trousers. He wondered how those hands would feel on his body, even more how this man would feel underneath him.
Cathy cupped her hand over her mouth and lowered her voice.
Brendan crouched down to hear.
"Um, yeah, he's really sweet. I don't like to talk loud about him because he's easily embarrassed," she chuckled.
"I don't see why, but what the hell do I know? Listen, Cathy, is a possible I could trouble you or one of your wonderful employees for a caramel latte macchiato with extra caramel?"
"Sure, anything for the boss." She nudged him. "Latte, would you mind taking a moment to make a caramel latte macchiato for Mr. Walsh?"
Latte looked away from his customers and at Brendan. Immediately, he flashed his pearly whites and grabbed a large cup. "I'm assuming a large?"
"You'd assume right," Brendan answered with a wry grin. He quickly looked at Cathy so others wouldn't pick up how Brendan gazed at the barista. No one working in the building had a clue about Brendan's sexuality and he wanted it to stay that way.
"How much do I owe you?"
"Oh Brendan, you own this place, it's on the house." Cathy grinned. "How's your dad?"
"The same, how about Bill? Is he around or..." Brendan looked passed her to the door behind the counter.
Cathy's smile turned down. "Um, my dad died almost six months ago."
The minute the words left her lips, Brendan's happy mood changed to somber. He'd been so wrapped up in business he didn't hear the news. "Oh God, Cathy, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
"Well, life goes on," she laughed, visibility unnerved. "I'd sent a message up to the floor about his passing, but when you didn't respond, I assumed you were too busy."
"I never got. God, I'm so sorry for your loss. Is there anything you need, or..."
"No, no, things are good. Profits have been great. I made a lot of changes once he passed and because of that along with Latte, I haven't seen a red month in quite some time."
As if on cue, Latte strolled up with the large cup in hand. A wicked grin crossed his face, making him even more handsome if that were possible.
"Here you go, boss man. I heard Cathy say you own the place, so I suppose that means I better be especially nice to you. Latte Jenkins." He held out his hand.
"I don't own it, but I do run it." Brendan accepted, grasping it firmly. "Brendan Walsh. Thanks for this." He let go and fished into his pocket for his money clip.
"You're very welcome." Latte shifted around and walked back to the counter to help other customers.
Brendan smiled and yanked a ten dollar bill out. He took three steps and pushed it into Latte's cup which already overflowed with money. "I see he's made quite an impression." Brendan eyed the other two tip jars and added a five to each on his way back to Cathy. "You seem to have a winning formula here."
"Um, yeah I do," she giggled. "He's a natural. All the customers adore him. Other than his talent at making coffee, it has to be his southern charm."
Brendan nodded and continued eyeing Latte from afar, still busy making hot drinks. He blew on the top of the cup, about to take a sip. "Well, I can certainly see that."
"You have a good one." Latte placed another coffee on the top and smiled at the next. "Miss Laura, is it? Tall caramel latte, extra sugar, no cream."
"You got it," she laughed. "How the hell do you memorize all these orders?"
Latte shrugged, "Just doing my job, ma'am." He wrote her name on the cup and filled it with hot water. While he grabbed the milk, he looked over at Brendan Walsh, still
giving him the side eye.
Baby.
"Where have you been all my life," he mouthed to himself and clapped his hands. "Mr. Owens, having the same today? Tall hazelnut, no sugar, three creams?"
"I sure am."
Pleased his memory still worked through distractions, Latte moved to the back and finished the other customer's drink.
Derrick came up beside him and nudged his side. "Well, Latte, looks like you got an admirer. I still don't get how you're into hairy chests and balls with all these good looking women practically giving you their panties, but what do I know?"
"Exactly. Nothing," he chuckled and grabbed cream from the fridge. "Come on, Derrick. You gotta admit he's gorgeous. Look at him. Tall, reddish brown hair, beautiful hazel eyes, and I can tell even from under that coat, the man takes good care of himself."
"Yuck. Just go after him already." Derrick made a face and turned away.
Latte laughed, "I wish I could." He headed back up to the counter, finishing Mr. Owens coffee. "Here you go, Mr. Owens. You have a nice one." Latte placed it in front of him and shifted his focus back to Brendan who continued eyeing Latte.
Much to his delight, Latte noticed the line was a lot shorter, but a few of his regulars still needed their beverages. "Um, Miss Lisa, give me a sec, alright?" Latte wiped his apron and headed over to where Cathy and Brendan stood. "Everything okay with the drink?"
"Oh yeah, he was just..." Cathy blushed.
"It's excellent, Latte. The best macchiato I've had in a long time, thank you." Brendan's slim lips curled into a smile.
Latte wished they were alone. He could tell Brendan didn't like flirting in public. "Um, good. Thanks for the tip, too. Perhaps you should come down and see us more often."
"I will. Promise me you'll make it every morning and I'll make a regular appearance." Brendan held up his cup in toast. "Come up and see me on fifteen," Brendan mouthed.
"I hope so and I'll see you around then." Latte backed away and went back to his customers, trying to forget the hot man staring him down.