Waking Up in the Land of Glitter Read Online Free PDF Page B

with honey? According to your menu, I guess that’d be… a
handful
?”
    If it weren’t for his charming Jamaican accent, smooth café-con-leche skin, and emerald eyes, Chloe would have lectured the
     gentleman on coffeehouse-line etiquette. He lucked out. The comforting aroma of the freshly brewed coffee temporarily diverted
     her attention. She approved the Push-up and scooted away so Mr. Cool Runnings could have his tea and honey. She picked up
     a “Work for us” postcard from the countertop and pretended to read the fine print. As if she would really represent a business
     that named drinks after boobs.
    “You just cut this lovely lady off, Rasta-head! This is the Chi-Chi Coffee Cabana! Chi-chis come first!” snapped the server,
     gesturing his lanky, blotchy arm toward Chloe. The man, embarrassed by his social crime, offered to spring for Chloe’s latte
     when another barista slid it down the counter to her.
    “I didn’t mean to cut you off, miss,” he apologized. “I take it you’re a regular here—Miss Underwire Push-up?”
    “Excuse me?” she said, offended.
    He pointed down to her hand and winked. “Your drink.”
    Chloe remembered the gist of the joint. “Oh yeah. No. First time.” She lifted her cup and sipped. It had a hard bite, just
     what she needed. She and the dread-locked gentleman reciprocated flirtatious blinks and a cool breeze brushed over her body.
     She’d never believed in actually
feeling
someone’s energy—until now. His presence was strong, regal, kinetic. Warm and soothing, practically glowing. For the first
     time since she could remember, the normally uptight Chloe relaxed.
    He extended his hand for an introduction. “I’m Gustavo Olivera,” he said, his gaze connecting with hers. There could have
     been a massive explosion behind her and she wouldn’t have even blinked. She took his hand while her mind surveyed her internal
     file system of flirty comebacks. There weren’t any relating to handsome Caribbean strangers.
    “I’m Chloe. Chloe Chavez. I’m a broad.”
    “Oh really. I’ve never met one of those before,” he kidded.
    Chloe felt her cheeks warm up about a thousand degrees. “I’ve had a rough morning. Let me try that again—I’m a broad
cast
journalist. I’m kind of a celebrity around here,” she said right before she winked at the barista. He confirmed her proclamation
     with an exaggerated hand wave, and handed Gustavo his tea.
    “Pleasure to meet you, Chloe,” Gustavo said.
    She adored the way her name rolled off his full lips, and imagined him repeating it while they rolled around naked, in one-thousand-thread-count
     Egyptian-cotton sheets. Lust and love—two indulgences her life lacked. At least she had her Underwire Push-up, which she took
     a big swig of.
    Gustavo motioned for them to step away from the Chi-Chi pick-up counter. He pulled something out of his red, yellow, and green
     striped messenger bag and handed it to her. Chloe’s heart quickened at the mystery gift. She may as well have been a giddy
     sixteen-year-old accepting a class ring from a varsity quarterback, as opposed to a twenty-eight-year-old professional woman.
    “What’s this?” Chloe said, not even looking at it. She couldn’t remove her focus from Gustavo’s island-kissed facial features.
    “It’s for my band, Reggae Sol.”
    “Local?” Chloe hoped for an affirmative.
    “No, Puerto Rico. We’re on tour right now. We’re here in Phoenix for a couple of gigs.”
    “Really? Puerto Rico? I’ve always wanted to visit, but the opportunity has never presented itself. I’m half. My dad was born
     there.”
    He smiled, revealing a set of shiny white teeth that would make four out of five dentists applaud. “Same here, we have something
     in common, then.”
    “I guess we do. My mom is third-generation Italian. What’s your other half? I hear some kind of Caribbean accent in there.”
    He leaned against the wall and sipped from his cup. “Dad is a