Highlander
Adelaide visited the café, bright and early every morning. She sat, for the most part, unnoticed, just as she preferred, sipping coffee and struggling to write on a laptop. And each morning, she looked forward to seeing him, the man in the trench coat. He arrived at nine on the dot and without fail, always wore the trench coat. He cut an impressive figure, handsome and confident in his demeanor. He never looked her way, but from the corner, Adelaide would watch him through half-shuttered lashes. What was beneath the coat, she couldn’t help but wonder.
It had been many years since she’d seen episodes of a show her mum had watched called "Highlander", but the main character had always worn a trench coat, too – and he had carried an impressive, gleaming sword beneath it, ready to fight for his life and the life of those he loved. Duncan McLeod, handsome, rugged, and a fierce Scottish warrior. Adelaide’s mind ran wild with images the memory evoked. Was this man like Duncan, hiding something so important beneath his coat that he could use to save the day?
The door’s bell sounded and Adelaide looked up to see him enter. Nine o’clock. Right on time. She shifted back in her chair a little and pulled her hair down to partially cover her face. She had no desire to be noticed while watching him. Still, she could not help herself. He was quite handsome and the trench coat made him all the more intriguing.
She heard the quiet, indistinguishable murmur of his deep voice as he ordered. She imagined he liked an espresso con panna. It was a strong, rich, well-balanced, smooth, delectable coffee with a bit of cream. Yes, that would suit him. With the thought, her mind evolved to a strong, well-balanced, and smooth body, possibly clad in a kilt, beneath the trench coat. What an enchanting thought.
There was a loud clatter as someone nearby dropped a plate, and Adelaide was brought out of her dreamlike trance. Embarrassed by where her thoughts had wandered, her face turned a bright shade of red. She stole another glance at the counter to find he was picking up his order and turning to leave. Quickly, she lowered her head, pretending to read what was not on her laptop and finding comfort in the shield her long hair provided.
Click, click, click….the sound of someone approaching drew nearer until Adelaide could see gleaming, Italian leather shoes beside her table. Startled, she looked up to find him, pausing to place a cup of steaming, hot coffee before her on the table. He smiled. It was absolutely glorious.
“Good morning. Americano, I believe, is your drink of choice,” he said with a wink. “My treat, so please enjoy. Best of luck with your writing.”
Ignoring her look of surprise, he turned on his heel to leave, but stopped suddenly and spun back around.
“The name’s Duncan. Duncan McLeod. It’s a pleasure to meet you, lass.”