Jorge smirked as his eyes traveled over my outfit. I looked down to see what he was seeing.

“Coming from one of our next super agents, I’ll take that as a compliment. Your coffee will be at the end.” He pointed to the girl that was busy making drinks faster than I could move my arms.

“Thanks,” I said as I made my way to the end of the counter and thanked the girl working before I sat down.

This felt a lot more nerve-wracking than I thought it would, and my knee was bouncing under the table to prove it. I took a sip of the mysterious blend I’d been served and moaned softly as it touched my tongue. Okay, Jorge was good. I looked at the cup in wonder as I tried to decipher what was in it.

I played some games on my phone and read the daily news. There was another headline about the killer my mother was chasing down. Not that she talked about it much, but I’d seen the paperwork when she left it out and had taken a peek a time or two. The case was fascinating. I found it interesting that the article about another discarded body was on page three while the latest celebrity news was front page worthy. They certainly didn’t want it to be in your face that this person was out killing and dropping off bodies as often as garbage was picked up.

“You stayed,” Jorge said, startling me out of my thoughts. “Here, I brought you a refill on the house.” He sat a cup of the same coffee down, and I smiled wide.

“Thanks again.”

“You can call me Jorge, but some days I prefer Jorgina. You have a problem with that?” He pointed to the name tag that I’d already noticed.

I lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “Not in the slightest, but you may need to tell me which you prefer that day until I get to know you better.”

One elegant eyebrow raised as he bit his lip. The lip liner and gloss were so perfect that I had a jealous moment staring at them. “Honey, I like you. Alright, so give me the goods, and please tell me you have prior experience as a barista,” Jorge asked.

I shook my head no as I took a sip of the hot drink. I think I was officially addicted. “No, I don’t.”

“Do you have waitressing experience?”

“A little. I worked at a Denny’s for a couple of months.”

Jorge sat back in the chair, the metallic silver tips of his stylish haircut shining under the lights. “How about baking experience?”