Black background with white text reading: "Exactly," Leo agreed, his gaze softening. He clapped his hands together, “Right! Now that Bartholomew hasn't actually impaled me… what does the Master Gardener require for sustenance? I saw a Chemex setup, have you got the good stuff?" Clara felt a profound relief. There was no pressure for a drink, no expectation of escalating passion; just the simple offer of competence and care. "Just a strong pour-over," she managed. "And yes, it's over on the top shelf. Fortuna?" Leo expertly ground the beans, the rich, earthy aroma filling the kitchen; a scent that was a direct, peaceful contrast to the harsh cocktail of boozy fumes from the bar. He moved with the quiet efficiency of a man who spent his life on his feet, focused on precise measurements and flawless execution. Clara leaned against the counter, watching him. This version of Leo - more focused, making something beautiful and warm - was far more dangerous than the one who offered tequila, she was growing to realise. He broke her reverie by presenting the finished cups. He had reached past the genericly plain visitor stoneware and found the most aggressively "novelty" mugs he could find in her collection. He set her mug before her; a stout ceramic piece reading ‘I’m surrounded by pricks’ adorned with a happy chibi cacti; the steam curling perfectly. "Great blend, and perfect execution," he announced, raising his own mug - a grumpy green cactus cat labeled ‘Cattus’, in mock toast. "No bitterness.” Just as Clara raised the mug to her lips, her phone buzzed relentlessly on the counter. It was Sarah.
Part 13
#CreativeWriting #AStoryADayKeepsTheBoredomAtBay #Continuation #Cacti #Coffee #NoveltyMugs
