Anne Seong hated Mondays. Not in the cute, relatable meme way. No. She loathed them with the fury of a thousand coffee-deprived souls. And this Monday? This one had the audacity to rain.
Her coat was too thin, her umbrella was at home, and her favorite boots had decided today was the day they'd betray her with a soggy sole. The only thing keeping her tethered to sanity was the thought of her usual: a triple-shot oat milk vanilla latte from Brewology, her favorite café and the only place where the barista knew her name and didn't spell it "An" or, once, tragically, "Ant."
She shoved the café door open, a gust of wind slamming it shut behind her like the dramatic punctuation of her morning. She didn't notice the man standing in line behind her until—
Splash.
She gasped. Her coat was warm now. Too warm. And wet. Too wet.
A paper cup lay dead on the floor. Next to it, standing awkwardly and holding the lid like a useless trophy, was a man who looked as guilty as he did smug.
"Sorry," he said. "Technically, it was the wind. But if you want to blame me, I'm into that."
Anne blinked. Tall, slightly too confident, with cheekbones that could slice glass and the posture of someone who clearly hadn't suffered enough in life. Javier Park was the type of guy you'd think was attractive until he opened his mouth—and then you'd know he was trouble.
"You spilled your coffee on me," she said slowly, pointing to her latte-stained coat like it was evidence in a murder trial.
"Well, technically it was my coffee. So, I lost just as much in this transaction."
Anne narrowed her eyes. "I don't care if it was brewed with unicorn tears. You owe me dry cleaning."
"I'll do you one better. How about I buy you a drink and a new coat and we call it even?"
Anne's sarcasm sensor pinged hard. "Do I look like someone who makes deals with people who ruin mornings?"
Javier tilted his head. "You look like someone who's having a terrible morning and could use a laugh. Or a muffin. You seem like a muffin person."
Before she could reply with the scathing retort that was dancing on the tip of her tongue, the barista called out from behind the counter.
"Triple-shot oat milk vanilla latte for Anne!"
Anne moved past Javier with a scoff, grabbed her drink—her only true love—and turned back toward him. "Thanks for the coffee. And the trauma."
Javier gave a little mock salute, eyes twinkling. "Anytime, Ant."
She froze.
He smirked.
He heard the Ant story.
"How did you—"
But he was already gone. Just vanished into the rain like some overly smug ghost.
Anne stood in the middle of Brewology, stunned, dripping coffee and disbelief.
Who was this guy?
And why did he already know her name?