Just A Taste [✓ COMPLETE]

2 | Not On The Menu

After he dished her out, ditched his apron, and got himself some mint chocolate chip they sat at a table in front of a street view window. She watched people pass, bundled against the cold.

“What's your name?” He asked, mixing the ice cream in his bowl. “What brought you here?”

“Hannah. I can't believe I didn't introduce myself. I'm here for dance theater. Well, trying to anyways. What's your name?”

“Ian. You dance? I should have figured that out.” He used his spoon to gesture at the duffle bag at her feet that had the figure of a dancer embroidered on it.

“Since I was little. I was hoping to get some local jobs under my belt so I could audition for a local troupe. It hasn't panned out as well as I thought.” Hadn't panned out at all, actually. She was only working part-time at a grocery store so that she had enough time to practice and audition.

Part time wasn't paying the bills though.

“And where do your naughty books come in?” Ian laughed at her miserable expression.

“If you were going to be any kind of friend you wouldn't have brought that up. Uh, my friend from home sends me everything she has read or listened to. She says it's how we still feel like we're together.” As silly as that was, she also felt that way. “ She just doesn't always inform me when it's a book to listen to in public or not. I had paused it and taken out my earbuds, but… ugh.” When she felt her face flush again she dropped her head to the table.

His laugh rumbled in his chest as he tried to conceal it.

“It's OK. Laugh at my expense.” She shot him a playful scowl.

At her permission he let loose a laugh that made her smile. “I'm sorry, Hannah. It's just that everyone was staring… Caught my attention though. That sounded like a good scene.”

“It did sound good. Alex Goode writes great sex.” She began to bite into the waffle cone, trying not to wear it in the process.

Ian blatantly stared at her mouth, a smile leftover from his laughing, still hung faintly on his lips. Growing self-conscious she hid behind her hand and lowered the treat.

“Don't stop on my account. I find something incredibly sexy about a woman enjoying my ice cream.” His voice had a low raspy quality when he spoke this time that hit her in her core.

“You made this?” She tried to ignore the other implications of his comment.

“It's my store. All homemade.” Reluctantly he looked away from her face so his eyes could scan his shop. “It's not usually so slow.”

“It's morning still and winter. Not everyone is as ridiculous as I am. I like it though. It's a little more chic than most ice cream shops.”

“I tried. Would you like to see the back, how I make it? Or do you have somewhere to be…”

“No, I'd love that. I've never seen ice cream made.” She nibbled a bit more on the cone before he showed her to the back.

It was all white paint and stainless steel appliances back there. Some pieces looked older, maybe handed down. She assumed making ice cream would be messy but he kept his work space clean.

Unbidden the image of him lifting her to the cold edge of the table as he kissed down her overheating body flashed to her mind.

“Does anyone work here with you?” She asked trying to shake the fantasy. Lust lingered low in her stomach though.

“In the afternoon during the week and all weekend long I have part time employees. I like to make the product myself, for the most part though. So, this is the kitchen. Over there is a walk in fridge, and the real pride of place is the walk in freezer.” He pointed to two large metal doors.