Clara Wilson adjusted the black-rimmed glasses on her nose, her fingers trembling slightly as she smoothed the fabric of her simple cotton dress.

The Alpha leader of the most feared pack in the city was now a mere customer at *The Coffee Corner*, a quaint little café on the edge of downtown.

She had traded her usual leather jacket and combat boots for a pair of white sneakers and a casual blouse, her fiery red hair tied back in a loose ponytail. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet, there was a thrill in the disguise that she couldn’t deny.

She pushed open the glass door, the bell above jingling softly. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of pastries.

Her eyes immediately sought out Noah Smith, the barista who had unknowingly captured her attention weeks ago. He was behind the counter, his broad shoulders moving with ease as he prepared a drink. His dark curls framed his face, and his lips were curved into a warm, professional smile.

Clara approached the counter, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of her pack’s expectations on her shoulders, but for now, she pushed them aside. This was about her, about *him*.

“What can I get for you today?” Noah asked, his voice smooth and inviting.

Clara cleared her throat, forcing her voice to remain steady. “An iced Americano, please.”

Noah nodded, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. “Coming right up.”

Clara felt a jolt of electricity run through her at the contact. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to study the menu on the chalkboard behind him. She could feel his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned to start on her drink.

She took a seat in the corner, her usual spot, and pulled out a book she had brought along as a prop. Her eyes, however, were not on the pages but on Noah.

She watched as he moved with grace behind the counter, his hands deftly handling the espresso machine. She noticed the way his lips quirked into a small smile when he chatted with a regular customer, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed.

Noah approached her table with her drink, placing it down gently. “Here you go. Enjoy.”

Clara looked up, her eyes locking with his once more. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Noah hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more, but then he simply nodded and walked away. Clara watched him go, her heart racing. She took a sip of her iced Americano, the bitterness of the coffee a stark contrast to the sweetness she felt inside.

As the days turned into weeks, Clara became a regular at *The Coffee Corner*. Each visit, she would order the same drink and sit in the same spot, her eyes always on Noah. She noticed the little things about him—the way he would hum softly to himself when he thought no one was listening, the way he would run a hand through his curls when he was deep in thought.

One particularly busy afternoon, Clara was sitting at her usual table when Noah approached her. “You’re here almost every day,” he said, his tone light but curious.

Clara looked up, her heart skipping a beat. “I like the coffee,” she replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.

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Noah chuckled, a rich, warm sound that made Clara’s cheeks flush. “I’m glad to hear that. But you’re always so quiet. I’ve been wondering if you’re enjoying yourself.”

Clara hesitated, then smiled. “I’m enjoying myself just fine. I like watching people.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “Watching people, huh? Should I be worried?”

Clara laughed, a genuine sound that surprised even herself. “Only if you have something to hide.”

Noah grinned, leaning slightly against the table. “Well, I don’t. But I do have a name. Noah.”

Clara felt a warmth spread through her chest. “Clara,” she replied, her voice soft.

“Nice to meet you, Clara,” Noah said, his smile widening. “Maybe next time, you’ll let me join you for a cup of coffee.”

Clara’s heart leapt at the invitation. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Noah nodded, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment longer before he straightened up and returned to the counter. Clara watched him go, a smile tugging at her lips.

For the first time in a long while, she felt a spark of hope, a flicker of something more than just duty and responsibility. And she knew, deep down, that she was falling for the man behind the counter—the man who had no idea who she really was."

Clara leaned against the counter, her fingers tapping an impatient rhythm as she scanned the chalkboard menu above. The café was bustling, the air thick with the scent of freshly ground coffee and the low hum of conversation. Her gaze flickered to Noah, the barista who always seemed to have a calm demeanor, even when the line was snaking out the door.

"One flat white," she said, her voice carrying a playful edge. "But make sure it’s exactly 85 degrees. Not a degree more, not a degree less."

Noah paused, his hand hovering over the espresso machine. He glanced up at her, his dark eyes narrowing slightly, but he didn’t miss a beat. "85 degrees. Got it." His tone was calm, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—amusement? Irritation? Clara couldn’t quite tell.

She watched him as he meticulously measured the temperature, his hands steady and precise. There was something about the way he focused on the task, the way his brow furrowed just slightly, that made her want to push him further. To see if she could crack that composed exterior.

"You know," she said, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I’ve heard Omegas are naturally good at this kind of thing. Is it true? Are you all just... born patient?"

Noah’s hands stilled for a moment, and he looked up at her, his expression unreadable. Then, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "And I’ve heard Alphas are naturally arrogant. Guess we’re both living up to stereotypes, huh?"

Clara blinked, caught off guard by his quick retort. She hadn’t expected him to fire back so easily. A laugh bubbled up in her throat, and she couldn’t help but grin. "Touché," she said, her tone lightening. "But seriously, how do you keep your cool with customers like me?"

Noah handed her the coffee, his fingers brushing against hers for a brief moment. The contact was fleeting, but it sent a jolt of warmth up her arm. "Practice," he said simply, his gaze holding hers for a beat longer than necessary. "And maybe a little bit of self-control."

Clara felt her cheeks heat up, and she quickly took the cup, her fingers tightening around it. "Well, I guess I’ll have to keep testing that self-control," she said, her voice teasing but softer now. "See you tomorrow, Noah."

As she turned to leave, she caught the faintest hint of a smile on his face, and it made her heart skip a beat. The banter was still there, but there was something else now—something deeper, more electric. And she couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.