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   Chapter 5 My Taste

The Runaway Mafia Queen By ktish7 Characters: 4641

Updated: 2020-02-23 13:09

Instead of answering me, he waited for a couple of seconds, making me feel self conscious as hell. And then he nodded his head at me and took a step backward, inviting me in.

"Thank you." I mumbled in a low tone and quickly went ahead to stand in front of the coffee counter.

The mysterious beauty man walked around the counter and started to prepare the coffee.

Even though I did not want to appear as some desperate, horny, cringing woman, unknowingly my gaze kept going back to look at him.

The way he looked, it was impossible to imagine him as a barista. But anyway, who was I to judge a person?

"Your taste?" his voice had me almost fall down on the ground in shock.

"What?" my eyes snapped up to his.

"In coffee." He replied, humor clear in his voice. "What kind of coffee do you want?"

In that moment, I could not even describe in words how badly I wanted to bury my face in something. Like a pillow. Or probably the ground would be good. I will not have to face so much embarrassment ever again.

"Latte." I said, proud of myself to be able to speak without croaking.

"New here?" He asked casually while starting to stir the coffee in a mug.


How the hell does he know that?

Probably accent, or probably the shit head condition of my soil covered, exhausted face.

"So what brings you to Texas?"

"I am here to meet somebody." I repli

he corners while he stared intensely at me.

"Me too, darling girl." Vincent boomed lowly in my ear, even though he tried to say the words softly.

After a few seconds he put me down on the ground but kept me in a side hug, plastered against him.

"Max!" Vincent's voice had returned to his loud, booming echo while he turned me to face the barista man, "Meet the most beautiful woman in the world. This is my niece, Hope."

He gave me that sexy head nod in greeting while the corner of his mouth curved up in a smile.

"Hope, this is Max. He runs a private investigation agency."

My head shot up so quick that my neck would have broken. My eyes stared up at Uncle Vincent's face in horror.

The barista.

The one I had just ordered to make a coffee.

Fuck my life.

And he runs a Private Investigation agency!

Seems like my stay with my uncle was not going to be as long as I had originally planned.

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