The *café et amour* bustled with its usual rhythm. Light chatter and the soft clinking of coffee mugs provided the soundtrack of another busy morning. The aroma of freshly brewed espresso wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of pastries and warm cinnamon buns, freshly pulled from the oven. Rody Lamoree, one of the cafe's longtime waiters, weaved expertly through the sea of tables with an effortless charm that seemed to make him magnetic to customers. His auburn hair, as unruly as ever, curled slightly at the nape of his neck as he passed by the counter, refilling a patron's coffee with a casual smile.
Behind the counter, Vincent Charbonneau stood at his station in the open kitchen, the sharp tang of citrus lingering around him as he finished plating the cafe's signature lemon tarts. His black chef's coat was spotless, his hands moving with the precision of someone who had honed their craft through years of practice. His dark eyes, however, weren't focused on the task in front of him. Instead, they followed Rody as the waiter worked, the scent of his cologne drifting tantalizingly through the air.
Vincent wasn't sure when exactly it had started, this fascination with the man who always seemed a little too rough around the edges. But it had grown into something he couldn't shake. Rody was far from the type of person he'd usually pay attention to-messy, loud, disorganized. But there was something about him that hooked Vincent in, something about the way he moved, the careless way he seemed to approach life yet always landed on his feet. And, of course, there was that scent.
It was subtle, but it lingered. Earthy with a hint of something sweet-cedarwood, maybe. The smell wrapped around Vincent every time Rody walked by, teasing his senses and making it harder for him to concentrate. He'd caught himself more than once inhaling deeply as the waiter passed, greedily pulling that scent into his lungs like a man drowning. He told himself it was nothing, just a passing attraction, but that cologne lingered in his thoughts long after Rody left for the day.
Vincent's hands worked on autopilot as he prepared the next set of orders, his thoughts wandering as they often did to Rody. He had no idea how Manon had ever let him go. Sure, they were polar opposites-Manon, the level-headed business owner, always pragmatic and composed. Rody, on the other hand, was reckless and impulsive. Maybe that was why it hadn't worked between them.
"Vincent?" The soft, yet unmistakable voice shook him from his thoughts. Rody was standing by the pass, one hand resting on his hip, the other holding an order slip. He raised an eyebrow, flashing a smirk as though he'd caught Vincent daydreaming. "Got the order for table four?"
Vincent blinked, momentarily flustered. He cleared his throat and handed over the plate of lemon tarts with a practiced calm. "Table four," he said, his voice low and even, masking the fact that Rody's presence had just disrupted his entire focus.
Rody reached out to grab the plate, and for a split second, his fingers brushed against Vincent's. The touch was electric-barely a graze, but enough to send a jolt of awareness through Vincent. His breath hitched slightly, and he hoped Rody didn't notice. But of course, Rody noticed everything. His green eyes twinkled with mischief, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he flashed Vincent a grin, the kind that was too friendly to be flirting but just intimate enough to keep him guessing.
"Thanks, Chef," Rody said, the title rolling off his tongue in a way that made Vincent's stomach twist.
As Rody turned and made his way to the table, Vincent allowed himself a moment to watch him again, his eyes tracing the broad lines of Rody's back, the way his shirt pulled slightly across his shoulders as he moved. There was a quiet strength to him that Vincent had always noticed but never quite acknowledged-how Rody could easily lift crates of supplies or maneuver through the busiest shifts without breaking a sweat. And yet, there was a gentleness, too, in how he interacted with the customers, especially the regulars, chatting with them like old friends.
