A Woman Takes Over Her Friend’s Shift, Unaware The Millionaire Customer Will Soon Fall For Her
The Friday Favor
Monroe shoved her hair into a messy bun and muttered to herself as she tied the apron around her waist. This is the last time I cover for Ivy’s shift. The tiny cafe on Westbrook Avenue was already buzzing with late morning customers.
She hadn’t even clocked in yet. Ivy, her roommate and best friend, had begged her the night before to take her Friday shift.
“It’s just one customer,” Ivy had said.
“Same guy comes in every Friday at noon. Tips well. Quiet. Easy.”
Ara had rolled her eyes. Then she was doing Ivy a favor, not expecting anything more than a few extra bucks and maybe a slice of leftover banana bread at the end of her shift.
She had no idea her life was about to change. Just after 11:50, the bell above the door jingled. She glanced up from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron.
The man who walked in was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore an expensive-looking navy coat that probably cost more than her rent. His dark hair was perfectly styled and his jawline was sharp.
The air around him seemed to shift when he walked by, like gravity tilted in his direction. He didn’t look around. He walked straight to the corner booth like he owned it.
Ira blinked. That had to be him, Ivy’s quiet, easy customer. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a notepad and walked over.
“Hi,” she said, putting on her best smile.
“Welcome back. Ivy’s out today, so I’ll be taking care of you.”
He looked up from his phone, his gaze settling on her like he was actually seeing someone for the first time in days. His eyes were a dark hazel, intense but not unfriendly.
“You’re not Ivy.”
“Nope. Temporarily standing in for your regular server.”
He gave a short nod.
“All right. Same order as usual. Black coffee, no sugar, and the spinach feta quiche.”
“Coming right up.”
She turned, but not before catching the way his eyes followed her. By the time she returned with his order, he was watching her again.
“Ara?” he said, trying out her name like it was a foreign word.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Cashion Mercer.”
That name hit her like a jolt. Mercer, as in Mercer Enterprises. That was the tech company that had just bought out half the skyline in Midtown.
He didn’t seem like the flashy type, but he definitely radiated money. Even his watch—silver, sleek, and probably worth thousands—was understated but screamed luxury.
“You own Mercer Enterprises?” she asked, setting down the coffee.
He raised a brow.
“You know the company?”
“Only because their logo is on every building near my bus stop.”
Cashion chuckled.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Wow. So you’re a millionaire?” she said before she could stop herself.
He tilted his head.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” she said quickly, her cheeks warming.
“I just didn’t expect someone like you to hang out in a place like this.”
“That’s exactly why I like it.”
They said nothing for a moment. Then she realized she was still standing there gawking.
“Right,” she said, stepping back. “I’ll let you eat.”
But as she turned, Cashion said, “Do you always fill in for Ivy?”
“No, just today. She owed me.”
“Then I’m glad today’s the day.”
She paused, caught off guard.
“Why?”
He gave the faintest smile.
“Because Ivy never talks to me.”
Ara returned to the counter, trying to act normal, but her heart was thumping. He was charming without trying. He was completely calm, but it was the kind of calm that made you lean in.
For the next half hour, he stayed in his booth sipping coffee, occasionally looking her way. Right before he left, he approached the counter.
“Thanks for the coffee,” he said, sliding a $100 bill across the counter.
Ara blinked.
“Cashion, this is…”
“For your time,” he said.
“And in case you’re covering Ivy again next Friday.”
She swallowed.
“I don’t usually work Fridays.”
“Well,” he pulled out a business card and slid it toward her. “If you ever want to.”
The card was black and simple, with only his name and number. Ara stared at it long after he walked out the door.
