Rhys shakes his head. “That’s shitty coffee.” “Very,” I agree. “I think I was just hustled.” I can’t help but smile. “Hustle my favorite customer? I would never.” His laugh bursts, beautiful and tinged with the boyish vulnerability of a kid talking to his school crush. It makes me want to bat my eyelashes and preen—which only makes me sick when I realize his presence is turning me to mush. “Favorite, huh?” I shrug, “You tip the best.”
