CHAPTER 6 #2
It was how my marriage worked.
The first rush hit like it always did . . . loud and overwhelming and demanding. Orders barked out. Milk steaming. Blenders screaming. I moved through it all without thinking, smiling when required, nodding when appropriate, and always keeping the line moving.
But somewhere between the first rush and the second, when I felt like I was about to pass out from doing it all on only an hour or two of sleep . . . a realization quietly snapped into place.
I couldn’t do this forever.
I couldn’t keep stacking jobs on top of jobs, exhaustion on top of obligation, and pretending it was a plan instead of survival.
I pictured myself sitting across from Ryan later, telling him I couldn’t keep working like this and that I needed to cut back.
Maybe I could finally take a class or two, do something that pointed us forward instead of just keeping us afloat.
The idea scared me . . . but it also felt like oxygen.
The bell over the door jingled, and I looked up automatically, already pulling on my customer smile. Everything inside me stalled when I saw that the beautiful stranger from last night had just walked in.
His hair was more controlled today, styled instead of falling into his face, and the suit he wore was a different color . . . but none of that mattered.
Because the reaction was the same.
That sudden, electric rush low in my stomach. That tight pull in my chest. That awareness that felt almost physical, like my body recognized him before my brain had time to catch up.
He scanned the room once, and then his eyes landed on me.
“Is it hot in here?” I murmured, pulling my gaze to Mara in the hopes that for once she’d actually want to talk and distract me.
It didn’t work exactly like that.
Instead, Mara glanced up and saw the ridiculously attractive man who’d just walked in . . . and suddenly she was full of useful energy. “Oh,” she said, pulling on a smile I’d never seen on her before. “I’ve got this one.”
I should have let her, but something took over my body, and I was standing in front of the cash register a second later.
He stepped up to the counter, and I was suddenly finding it hard to breathe. There was something about his presence that seemed to take over everything . . . to fill the space.
“Good morning,” he said—way too charmingly.
“Hi,” I managed, keeping my chin up and a firm grip on the counter.
His eyes flicked to my name tag and back up again, and a sly grin spread across his face, as though he’d just gotten exactly what he wanted.
“Eden . . .” The way he said it sent a small, unwelcome shiver down my spine, and I had to give myself a pep talk that consisted of me screaming Ryan in my head over and over again like it was a protective spell.
“You were in the casino last night,” I said, forcing my tone into something neutral and detached . . . like I had just now placed him and hadn’t, in fact, orgasmed to the memory of his face a few hours ago. “The high roller room, right?”
He grinned, clearly entertained. “I was,” he answered mockingly. “But I have a feeling that you hadn’t forgotten.”
I flushed that he’d so bluntly called me out, and he tilted his head slightly, studying me the way someone studies a puzzle. “It’s cute that you were pretending you just now recognized me, though,” he said softly.
“I wasn’t pretending anything. I’m actually wondering why you’re here,” I said, gesturing vaguely around us, taking in the chipped counter, the mismatched chairs, Mara very obviously pretending not to listen while hanging on every word, “at the coffee shop I work at . . .”
He licked his bottom lip, the tip of his tongue dragging across the full curve like he was tasting something he already knew he wanted more of.
My knees went weak.
“You say that like it’s suspicious,” he mused.
I crossed my arms, trying to brace myself against everything he was throwing at me. “I say it like I’m trying to decide if you’re stalking me.”
That finally got a real reaction.
His smile widened, and it was almost disorienting . . . like looking into the sun. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter, completely at ease and obviously in no hurry to be anywhere else. “Is that something I should be doing?”
My stomach flipped hard, more heat spreading up my neck before I could control it. I gripped my elbows tighter, annoyed that my body seemed determined to betray me.
“No,” I said immediately. But then I hesitated, which annoyed me, too. “I mean . . . I’d prefer you not.”
He laughed softly, and the sound curled through me like some kind of drug. And, worse, some part of me was already wanting to hear it again. “Hmm,” he murmured. “You would prefer it.”
“Yes,” I said, reaching for a stack of napkins just so my hands had something to occupy them.
“Relax,” he added easily. “If I were stalking you, you wouldn’t have noticed.”
That did absolutely nothing to make me feel better, and it forced me to look back at him because now I was even more suspicious about why he was here.
“What do you want?” I asked, and there was a faint edge in my voice this time. A little bite. Which was infinitely better than the breathy nonsense I’d been giving him before.
“That’s easy,” he said without hesitation. “I want you to go out with me.” He said the words with enough confidence that I almost laughed.
Mara made a small choking sound behind me, like she’d inhaled her own spit.
“I meant your coffee order,” I said dryly. “And as I believe I mentioned last night . . . I’m married.”
Just like then, that fact didn’t seem to faze him at all. Instead, he started glancing around the shop, as if he was genuinely looking for something. “Where is he?” he asked, sounding confused.
A lie rose automatically to my tongue. That he was working or some other made-up version of my life, but I couldn’t seem to force the words past my lips.
Ryan was probably still asleep, just like he’d been when I’d left. The smell of last night’s steak lingering in the air a reminder that I’d have very little to eat for the rest of the week to make up for it.
I closed my mouth, attempted to refocus myself, and lifted my chin. “Your order. Please.”
Something approving flashed across his face, like he enjoyed my defiance. “Fine. What’s your favorite?”
I hesitated, then sighed. “You don’t want to order my favorite drink. It’s ridiculous.”
“Perfect.”