Chapter 7 Willa #2
I look up—and up, and up some more because Jesus Christ, he’s tall—into the face of Beau McCrae.
Of course it’s the Saint. Who else would be there?
Because my life is apparently a joke, and the universe has a terrible sense of humor.
“I—you—coffee—” Words. Use words, Willa. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and he’s smiling. That devastating, crooked smile that probably makes women across three states lose their minds. All the years I’ve mooned over his poster or news bits, I never realized he had dueling dimples when he smiles. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. I’m fine. Totally fine.”
I am the opposite of fine. I’m covered in coffee, my breakfast is on the floor, and I’m being held upright by the hottest man I’ve ever seen in real life.
“Your coffee doesn’t think so,” he says, nodding at the brown puddle spreading across the floor and my splattered coat.
“I'd better get that,” I say at the same time he says, “Let me help.”
We both look down at the same time and make to move forward and—
THUNK
Our heads collide with a sound that echoes through the entire store.
“Ow, fuck,” I gasp, pressing my hand to my forehead. His own hand is pressed to the side of his cheek by his eye.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Then his hands are on me again, tilting my face up so he can see the damage. “Let me look.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, even though I’m pretty sure I just gave myself a concussion. His stare is as intense as his person. I feel flayed open with his direct focus and attention.
A girl could get used to being looked at like that.
“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding.”
“I’m what?” I croak through a suddenly dry throat.
He pulls out a bandana from his back pocket—because of course he has a bandana—and presses it gently to my forehead. “Just a small cut. Nothing serious.”
The pin. Funny, when she gave it to me, she’d said she knew it would bring me luck. I wonder if this is what she had in mind.
But the problem isn’t the cut. The problem is how close he is. The problem is the way his scent—leather and bergamot and pure Alpha—is making my head swim. God, he smells so good.
An involuntary shudder floats over my skin with an epicenter where his hands hold my cheek. My lips part, and I can’t stop the hitch in my breathing.
The problem is the way his thumb is stroking my cheekbone while his other hand cups the back of my head, and I’m pretty sure this is what dying feels like.
“There,” he says softly. “Not so bad.”
I should step back. Should put distance between us. Should do literally anything except stand here staring at him like I’ve forgotten how to function.
“Your shirt,” I manage finally, noticing the coffee stain spreading across his chest. “I ruined your shirt.”
“It’s just a shirt.” But he looks down anyway, and that’s when he seems to realize his hand is still on my face.
He pulls back slightly, using the bandana to wipe away some coffee that splashed onto my lower jaw. His fingers brush against my collarbone and the small triangle of exposed skin at the neck of my coat as he tries to dab at the coffee.
We both look down at the same time as his bare fingers touch my skin, and electricity shoots to every nerve in my body before landing between my legs with a sudden pulsing. Good god, he is about ten times too much Alpha.
It’s like I’m stuck in quicksand, and can only watch as I go up in flames. His eyes heat, and the intensity in those frosty blue eyes is enough to make my skin itch.
His large hand slowly spreads across my upper chest, lightly resting there, but it feels like a lead weight is pressing into me. I realize he’s feeling my heartbeat.
Time stops until there is nothing but him and me, and the sudden urge to whimper and curl into his chest leaves me breathless.
Someone clears their throat loudly, and we both freeze. Slowly, we turn toward the window where Mabel, Dot, and Pearl have pulled their chairs over for a better view. They’re watching us blatantly, three pairs of eyes twinkling with undisguised glee.
Mabel waves.
Pearl winks.
Dot raises her coffee cup in a salute. “Don’t worry about us, sweets. This is the best entertainment I’ve had all year.”
I shake my head and curse the sudden flush that I’m sure turns my face beet-red.
“That’s not—I wasn’t trying to—“ He jerks his hand back like I’ve burned him, his face going blank. “Jesus Christ, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I squeak, because apparently we’ve both lost the ability to form coherent sentences. “Accident. Total accident.”
“I was aiming for the coffee stain.”
“Right. The coffee stain. On my boob. I mean, my coat. The coffee stain on my coat.”
“I should go,” Beau says, taking a step back and nearly slipping in the puddle of spilled coffee, just as Hattie swoops in with a mop. “Before I cause any more damage.”
“Nonsense,” she says. “No harm done.”
“Probably a good idea,” I agree anyway, even though my Omega is screaming at me to grab him and never let go.
He heads for the door, then pauses and looks back. “See you around, Willa.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me standing in a puddle of coffee with three cackling old ladies and a rapidly forming bruise on my forehead.
I grab what’s left of my dignity and march toward the door.
“Willa, honey,” Pearl calls after me. “You should take that boy for a ride sometime. I think you’d enjoy it.”
Despite everything, I find myself smiling. “Taking him for a ride might break me.”
Their laughter follows me all the way to my car.
I sit in the driver’s seat for a long moment, my heart still racing, my face still hot, my breast still tingling from where his hand—
Nope. Not thinking about that.
But as I start the engine, silently sending up a prayer that my car makes it, I can’t help glancing in the rearview mirror, looking for Beau.
A laugh bubbles out of me unbidden.
At least this time, I’m laughing.
Even if it’s slightly hysterical laughter, tinged with panic and confusion and the bone-deep certainty that I am so, so screwed.
“Get it together, James,” I mutter to myself again. “You’ve got a job to do. You’ve got a career to protect. You’ve got absolutely zero time for this kind of distraction.”
But my Omega isn’t listening. She’s too busy creating a scenario where Beau and I are wearing much less clothes.