Resist Me (Harden Heights #2)

1. Ford

FORD

My brother’s girlfriend is lucky she’s a barista.

If the infamous Violet Reeves were anything else, I would’ve passed when my big brother asked for a ride.

Not that Jagger couldn’t have driven himself, but free caffeine is free caffeine.

And since he looks like he was hit by a truck, I figured giving in and taking him wasn’t the worst thing I could do with my Sunday morning.

Hell, his eye is so swollen, I doubt he can fully see out of it at this point.

Give it a few days, and I’m sure the swelling will go down.

Until then? No getting behind the wheel, big brother. Safety first and all that.

I should be used to it. And in a way, I guess I am. He’s been a brawler since we were little. But last night’s fight? Last night’s fight was different. I know it, and he knows it, too.

When Jagger catches me eyeing him in my periphery, he scowls but doesn’t bother saying anything else.

Why would he? We both know why I’m staring.

Did I mention he looks like he was hit by a truck?

The bastard better get used to them. The stares.

He’s willingly visiting Violet at work instead of staying holed up at our place for a few days until his face goes back to normal.

Not that I’d ever state the obvious out loud.

Not to him, anyway.

Like Jagger would let anyone tell him what to do.

He reaches for the handle and opens The Bean Scene’s door in search of his girlfriend and the reason why he’s sporting a grapefruit for an eye. The warm scent of coffee filters through the air as I follow him inside the small coffee shop.

“What do you want?” Jagger asks me.

“Something hot and sweet.” My attention catches on the girl at the counter placing her order.

Speaking of hot and sweet…

If it isn’t Violet’s new friend and roommate, June Withers. My cock twitches before I can rein in my instincts.

She is woman, hear her roar and all that.

“Seems you already found it,” Jagger notes.

I don’t miss my brother’s sarcasm as he reads my mind while simultaneously shoving my shoulder and urging me toward the front of the shop.

Behind the counter, Violet rings up June like an A-plus employee when she notices Jagger.

Her smile stretches, and her dark brown eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“Hey, you!” Violet gushes.

June peeks over her shoulder, curious to whom Violet’s speaking.

And just like that, a light blush spreads across her round cheeks before her head swivels forward again.

If we hadn’t already been introduced, I’d almost be insulted, but I know better.

June Withers is the epitome of everything good in the world.

Sweet. Soft spoken. Not a bad bone in her perfectly curvy body.

I know it. My brothers know it. Everyone who’s spent more than thirty seconds around the girl knows it.

It’s also the reason I love giving her shit and hitting on her whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Not because I’d ever go there. I might be heartless, but I’m not a total dick.

All I’d do is wreck her. Sully her sweet soul the same way my father sullied our mother’s until there was nothing left.

Doesn’t ruin the fun of poking the bear, though. Especially when she’s more of the Winnie the Pooh version than any grizzly you’d find in the wild.

“Why, if it isn’t my favorite June Bug.” I slide in beside her as Violet hands June her coffee. “Iced?” I question. “It’s under fifty degrees outside.”

Unwrapping the paper straw, June sticks it through the lid and steals a sip, barely peeking at me. Guess she’s playing it cool.

“I like my coffee cold.” Her attention darts back to Violet. “Thanks again, Vi.”

“Anytime,” Violet returns. “I’ll be over in twenty.”

“No rush,” June says.

As she sways away without a backward glance, Violet asks, “So, what can I get you, gentlemen?”

A hot mug of June Withers, if it’s on the menu.

I smirk as the thought crosses my mind.

“Ford,” Jagger warns.

The bastard knows me too well.

“Order for me,” I tell him before catching up to June. What can I say? I can’t resist.

A laptop is set up in one of the booths, along with a notepad, two pencils, and a giant pink eraser. Seems my girl isn’t a fan of making mistakes.

Interesting.

When I reach her, I ask, “So, you’re an iced-only girl, huh?”

Her thick, dark lashes are almost enough to shadow her sky blue eyes as she peeks up at me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s surprised I followed her. “Hmm?”

“The coffee,” I clarify. “But, I do approve of the whipped cream. Mind if I join you?” A divot appears between her brows, but she nods, so I slide into the seat across from her. “Do you always order the same thing?” I prod.

“M-my coffee?”

Fuck, she’s cute when she’s flustered. I bite back my smile. “Yeah.”

“Uh.” She looks down at the cup in front of her. “I mean, I guess as long as it’s sweet, creamy, and iced, I’m not too picky. Although,”—she frowns—“my boss would probably kill me if he heard me say that.”

“Your boss?”

“I’m a pediatric dental assistant?” she explains. It comes out as more of a question than an answer. “And hopefully, if I can pass math, I’ll be a hygienist one day.” Her button nose wrinkles in the cutest way as she pushes away her notebook. “But at this point, it’s looking like a pipe dream.”

Of course, she works with kids. The girl’s a sexy crossover between Mary Poppins and the Fairy Godmother. Not that either is particularly sexy, unlike my girl here, but my point stands. She’s nice and friendly and thoughtful, and I'm pretty sure I’ve even seen her eyes twinkle before.

“Not a fan of numbers?” I ask.

“Pretty sure they’re not a fan of me.” Another smile stretches across her pretty face.

It’s so bright and open, part of me wants to slip on some sunglasses just to create a barrier between us.

“Thankfully, I don’t have to know too much for my degree,” she continues, “and Violet’s an excellent tutor, so… I should be fine.”

“So, not a pipe dream?” I challenge dryly, tossing her own words back at her from seconds ago.

“I guess I’m not a quitter.” The straw kisses her full lips for a split second before she takes another sip, studying me.

She’s probably wondering why I followed her over here.

I guess I couldn’t help myself. She’s a fun one to tease.

To play with. To entertain. I quirk my brow in response.

I could break the silence. I could stand up and leave her alone to work on her assignment.

Hell, I could offer to help her study since numbers are right up my alley.

Instead, I sit here, watching June the same way she watches me in the middle of a coffee shop on campus.

Here’s the thing about June Withers. She doesn’t want to sleep with me.

I clocked it from the moment we met. She’s fascinated by me, sure.

But actually interested? Not even close.

Or at least, not close enough to actually do anything about it.

Not that I would allow it in the first place.

Crossing the line and fucking her. It doesn’t matter how effortlessly sexy she is.

I’m capable of keeping my hands to myself.

Besides, Harden men are known for one thing: breaking the women they love…

if they even believe in love in the first place. Which I don’t. But even then.

The door jingles behind me. It’s enough to shake June from our staring contest. When she glances toward the front of the building, the same divot appears on her cute little face. And just like that, her gaze snaps to the notebook in front of her like she’s been caught watching porn.

Someone’s twitchy this morning.

“There a problem?” I ask. Mirth laces my tone as I look over my shoulder in search of whatever spooked her. My smirk drops. A guy in a pair of khaki pants and a dark blue shirt with the words “HH Fire Department” printed across the back just walked in.

What the hell?

Seems I'm not the only one capable of knocking June off-kilter.

Should I be insulted?

I turn back to her. “You know him?”

Her pretty eyes flutter to mine for the briefest of seconds, then flick back to her notebook like they belong to a scared baby bunny. “He, uh, his name’s Bryan,” she mumbles.

“Bryan, huh?”

“He brought his little sister into the office for a cleaning a few days ago, and…”

And, what? I want to ask. June has always been a little…

unpredictable. Sometimes she’s like a movie with subtitles.

Nothing to miss or piece together. Hell, sometimes, the line shines on the screen before the main character has even had a chance to say it, spoiling the actor’s delivery altogether.

Other times, it’s like I’m watching a foreign film in black and white with no sound at all, where I’m left trying to catch up the entire time before reaching the end and having no idea how I got there.

And right now? Right now, I can’t get a reading on where the rest of that sentence should go.

For a guy like me, a guy who’s used to playing out a scenario a hundred different ways while weighing the odds of every potential outcome until reaching a conclusion, it leaves me on edge.

Resting my elbows on the table, I lean closer, unable to tamp down my curiosity. “And?” I prod.

“And…nothing.” June shrugs but doesn’t bother looking up at me again. Apparently, her coffee is extra fascinating this morning.

“Nothing?” I push. Liar. “Because you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Or a celebrity. And not an old or ugly celebrity, but one who claimed the title of Sexiest Man of the Year or something. Don’t love that bit, but I’m self-aware enough to keep it to myself. Besides, the guy’s not that good-looking.

“Fine,” she caves. “Fine, I’ll tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

Rubbing her lips together, she murmurs, “During his little sister’s appointment, he called me pretty and sort of flirted with me for a few minutes, which, for a girl like me, kind of made an impression, okay?”