Summer: Day 27

Mack's POV:

Anxious, I walk into the coffee shop. First day of work, here I freaking come. It's not the crowd of people I'll be facing that scares me, it's Deacon Anderson, my boss that is too mean for his good looks.

He has dark gray eyes, a hard stare, emotionless expression, and is all prim and proper with his black button down attire. Professional business men just give me anxiety. And lucky lucky me, I'm getting trained on how to work an espresso machine today by one.

I let out a sigh of relief when the only person I see is Royce working behind the counter, his familiar smile easing my worries a little.

"Hey Mack," he greets me, throwing a rag over his shoulder.

I give him a small wave and meet him. "Hey Royce, how's work going?"

"Eh," he shrugs. "Thankfully not super busy." Then he gives me a raised eyebrow, a small smirk on his face. "Seems like you sweet talked Deacon up real fast, he hired you in a jiffy." Jiffy? Who the hell even says jiffy anymore?

"I was just answering his questions," I respond, putting my bag down. "Besides, I think I was a little on the rude side, not that I wanted to be. He was just getting on my nerves."

"He's a bit intimidating," Royce agrees, lowering his voice. "But he's cool once you get to know him."

I nod, noticing a customer is waiting to make their order. "Intimidating is an understatement."

Royce chuckles before attending to the lady.

And as if on cue, Deacon comes waltzing into the room as if he owns the place—oh wait, he does. Silly me.

"Mackenzie," his deep voice announces, causing a few heads to turn our way. Sheesh, didn't know I was getting called into the principal's office.

I give him a smile and nod, earning one from him in return. "Sir," I respond, putting my bag back over my shoulder.

"Come, I'll show you where to keep your things," he says, gesturing for me to follow him. I do as told and we end up in the breakroom, a very nice one to be exact. "This is the employee's breakroom. You can take your breaks here when allotted," he explains, opening a small locker for me. "You may put your things in here."

Frazzled, I just nod and don't allow myself to try to open my mouth.

But Deacon has other ideas and clears his throat. "Perhaps you forgot already, Miss Lemay, but I like verbal confirmation."

"Sorry Sir," I reply, my cheeks heating up as I smile up at him sheepishly.

"Good girl," he says smugly. Oh dammit, not the praise kink. Somebody turn it off.

I place my things in the locker and then spin around to take in the rest of the room. It has a few espresso machines and coffee makers along the bar table.

"I'll train you in here today, since we don't want you making a fool out of yourself out there," Deacon laughs, as if he said the world's funniest joke. "Would you like something to drink before we get started?"

"Sure," I say, leaning against the nearest counter.

He nods and moves towards one of the machines, fixing me a drink. The way he moves swiftly, carefully, and oh-so-fluently, has me in awe. He really takes his job seriously, and looks like he's having fun when doing so. Huh, who would've thought.

In a couple minutes, he finally brings me a mug prettied with latte designs. "Care for a double chai latte?" he offers, putting the cup in my hands.

I inhale the familiar scent of chai and nod, a dumb smile on my face. "So you remembered my order? Wow, guess you really were taking notes," I retort as I take a sip from my drink.

Deacon shrugs his shoulders unprofessionally and points to the machine. "I'll teach you how to use it, yeah?"

"That's why I'm here," I observe, lifting an eyebrow.

Wow, he really does bring out the cocky side of me.

"So it is," he agrees, cracking a smile. "Can I trust you not to break anything?"

"Or what? You're gonna throw a football at my face?" I joke. I like teasing this 'tall and intimidating' businessman.

He rubs his jaw for a second, chuckling under his breath. "Whatever floats your boat, Mackenzie."

He runs over the dos and don'ts of the espresso machine and coffee makers, and teaches me how to do latte designs—not that I was any good.

"Dammit," I mumble, spilling a little bit of the drink on the counter.

Deacon looks at me amused, arms crossed over his chest as I suffer. "Here, like this," he says, standing up to guide me.

I still as his big hand cover my small one, his body pressed against mine as I'm caged against the bar.

"Pour it slower," he whispers, his breathing normal while mine is hitched. This is so not professional, Mr. Professional. "There." When the heated milk leaves a beautiful design on the foamy top, Deacon lets go of my hand and backs up.

I feel my cheeks warming when I turn around to face him.

"See, that wasn't too bad," he chuckles, seeming to not be affected by what just happened.

I start nibbling on my bottom lip and say, "No, not bad." And because I don't know what else to do, I turn back around and clean up the mess I made.

Deacon joins me after a minute, hovering over my shoulder. "Care for a pastry?" he offers, arching his brow at me. "My mother just delivered a new batch."

I let out a small sigh and nod, backing away to one of the chairs set around a circular table. "Sure, that'd be nice."

Deacon leaves and comes back a few seconds later with a cannoli on a plate. "So, how was learning the new equipment?" he asks, sitting down across from me.

I scan the room with a shrug. "It was alright. I'll have to sleep on it, but I think I'll get the hang of everything."

He leans back in his chair with an examining expression. "You're eighteen now, right?"

"Well would you mind if I asked how old you are?" I begin, matching his stare.

"Twenty-two," he deadpans, not playing my game. "Graduated high school early and went to college at seventeen. Got my degree at twenty-one, and as you know, the rest is history."

"I'm eighteen, yes," I put simply. "Why might you ask?"

He runs his tongue across his teeth and shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Oh, is Mr. Anderson at a loss of words?" I tease, letting out a laugh as I bite down a smile. "Who knew you wouldn't have a snarky comment to make against me."

"Are you flirting with me, Mackenzie?" he asks, amusement in his eyes.

I click my teeth and laugh again. "I believe you're the one doing the flirting, Sir."

"Why yes, you're a very pretty girl, Miss Lemay," he observes. He doesn't even try to hide the fact that he's flirting with his employee? Okay, *clears throat* welp.

"I know. I've been told so before," I deadpan, licking my lips.

"Good, as you should be," he returns, shifting in his seat a little. "Go out to dinner with me sometime."

"Sir, that's something I can't do," I interject, though I feel myself blushing. "I can try to make cappuccinos and lattes and tea, but I can't go to dinner with you. Perhaps you're the one who forgot that you're my boss and I work for you." Not to mention I have a real-sorta-fake boyfriend.

"Valid statement, you're right. I'm the boss and owner of this coffee shop," he says, contemplating. "I can't get fired for wanting to take you out, and neither can you for going." Deacon stands up, brushing himself off. "You're free to go for the day, but I do want you to think about my offer."

I nod.

"Verbal communication, Mackenzie." He gives me a pointed look. "I have to know that what you say goes."

"Deacon," I emphasize, nodding again. "See you in a couple days during my next shift."

He shakes his head with yet another chuckle. "I like hearing my name from your lips."

And as soon as he leaves, I slap my hands to my face. Holy hell, is my boss trying to go out with me? Zachariah is not gonna be happy about this.

******

AT NIGHT I find myself in Tanner's house, hanging out with him and Lilah.

"Are you sure you don't want a drink?" Lilah offers, showing off her bartending skills as she whips up another Old Fashioned.

I shake my head, laughing.

"C'mon," she whines, puckering her lips. "Have a little fun for once!"

"Alright, fine," I give. "Make me your best."

She gives me a naughty smile and squeals. "Don't worry girl, I gotchu."

Tanner rolls his eyes and falls into the couch cushions. "She just likes making drinks," he states.

"And I'm sure you love having cocktails made for you all the time," I suggest. "I don't have a high alcohol tolerance, so please, have water and a bucket on standby."

Tanner sucks in a deep breath as he chuckles, flinging a pillow across the room. "Relax, we won't let you get drunk. We're responsible adults."

"Who happens to get drunk at every party we go to," I add, smiling. "If I get too wasted, I'll just call Zachariah."

"And let him kill us?" Tanner asks, eyes widening in horror. "Hell to the no."

But of course, because we are all irresponsible, the Old Fashioned was better than I thought it'd be and I ended up having a few more. It was then that I was introduced to my new best friend—bourbon. The smell, the taste, the burn. Ah, it's some real Tennessee Whiskey. Cue the country music.

"Kenz, what's up?" Zachariah says over the phone line.

My mind is a bit foggy, but I remember why I called him. "Can you come get me? I'm at Tanner's apartment."

"God. Baby, are you drunk?" he asks, dropping a few 'f' bombs.

"I had a few drinks, but I don't want to walk to my apartment alone," I mumble, my head aching. "And I think I forgot how to get there."

"I'll be there in a few minutes," he grumbles, clearly upset.

About five minutes later, an angry Zachariah comes busting through the door, eyes searching for Tanner. "Where is he?"

"I don't care," I stammer, getting up from the couch to walk to him. With very uncoordinated steps, I fit into his arms and put my face in his chest. "Please just take me home so I can sleep. You can yell at him later."

"Sure, Kenz," he sighs, calming down as I wrap my dead arms around him. He picks me up bridal style and walks out the door. His feet take us down the different hallways of the complex, and I'm almost asleep when he puts me down on the ground in my own apartment.

"Please tell me why you're drunk," he deadpans, not amused.

"God, Zachariah, my head hurts. I don't want to talk about it," I mutter, rubbing my eyes.

He gives me a pouty face and shakes his head. "You once told me you and alcohol don't mix well. If you knew that, why did you drink?"

"Because Old Fashioneds are good," I argue, walking towards my room.

"We're not done," he demands, catching up to me as he helps me to my bed. "Why are you acting out all of a sudden?"

"I'm not acting out, idiot. Stop being such an ass," I grumble. "It was just a few drinks, asshole."

He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not being an ass, you just normally don't drink."

"Just own up to your asshole attitude right now," I put simply. "Deacon's one big freaking asshole, but at least he owns it." I think asshole is my new favorite word now.

Zachariah furrows his eyebrows. "Who's Deacon?"

"My boss who's twenty-two and happens to think I'm very pretty," I snap, falling onto my bed with an exhausted groan.

I hear Zachariah let out a few curse words before his footsteps depart down the hall.

Bloody hell has it been a long day.

Author's Note:

OKAY so let's let the drama begin... again.

What do you guys think is gonna happen between Deacon and Mackenzie? TBH I think they're kinda cute, but Zachenzie is still my favorite, hehe. How do you think Zachariah is gonna react once Mack is sober?

Please comment and vote, I worked through a migraine to get this out to you guys!