Chapter 36 Violet
VIOLET
Islept over. I probably shouldn’t have, but considering the circumstances, I figured it wouldn't hurt. One, I didn’t have my car.
Two, we were both still a little buzzed.
And three, the idea of going back to my apartment felt…
lonely, I guess. Add in his offer to let me sleep in his bed, and I caved.
The next morning, I texted June, begging her to take my car and come pick me up so I wouldn’t be late for work.
If I close my eyes, I can still see a naked Jagger, with way too many sexy tattoos for his own good, asleep in his bed, with the sheets at his waist and his hair sticking up in every direction. Yeah, that man is something else.
Thankfully, it’s been busy this morning, so I haven’t had too much time to overanalyze last night and what it might or might not mean.
I wasn’t lying to Jagger when I told him it had been awhile since I’ve had sex.
I’m not stupid enough to think Jagger’s in the same boat.
Hell, the man goes through women like the customers at The Bean Scene go through coffee.
It’s this well-known fact that keeps bringing me back to earth instead of daydreaming about what it would be like to have a guy like Jagger all to myself.
Then again, do I even want that? The thought flutters through me as one of my coworkers yells from out front.
“Violet, will you take the front? I gotta pee.”
“Sure thing!” I wipe my hands on my apron, then head to the counter so I can take over.
That’s when I see him. Jagger Harden. And he’s not alone.
Across from him sits a pretty woman with long, honey-colored hair.
Well. Uh. Shit. I start to turn on my heel, determined to go back to the stockroom and continue taking inventory when the bell on the front door rings, and in walks one of our regulars.
Fighting my flight or fight response, I take a deep breath and approach the counter. “Hey, Ricky,” I say. “What can I get for you?”
“Well, uh.” He tugs at the collar of his T-shirt, and looks over the menu.
I’d find it amusing if I wasn’t dying from shame.
My eyes flick to Jagger and whoever-she-is at the furthest booth.
She doesn’t look familiar. Does it make the situation better or worse?
She must be new. So, it’s not an old thing, but a new one.
She’s young, too. Not a baby by any means, but—
It. Doesn’t. Matter.
I turn back to Ricky, wringing my apron like it’s a dirty dishrag.
“Not sure what you want, Ricky?” The pockfaced freshman looks up at the menu as if he doesn’t already have it memorized.
He’s been coming here since fall semester started.
At first, it was only once or twice a week. Now, I see him almost every shift.
“Hmm,” he grunts.
“You like the caramel macchiato,” I remind him. “Or white mocha with an extra pump of flavoring.”
A light pink seeps into his scrunched face as he avoids my gaze. “I, uh, I dunno. I’m undecided.”
“All right, let’s see.” Looking up at the menu, I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth in an attempt to appear unaffected by anyone who may or may not be on a date with someone in this very building. “The seasonal drinks are always yummy,” I offer. “Can’t go wrong with a pumpkin—”
“You know what I really want?” he interrupts.
Ignoring the shame clogging my throat, I turn and face him again. “What’s that?”
His Adam’s apple wiggles in his throat like he’s swallowing a shard of glass. “Your, uh, your number.”
My eyes widen. My number? Is this boy for real?
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from asking if he’s serious.
He’s cute, don’t get me wrong. Curly red hair.
Freckles for days. He’s about my height, too, and I’m pretty sure I could beat him in an arm wrestle if push came to shove.
I fight the urge to steal another peek at Jagger.
Apparently, I like my boys with a sprinkling of asshole even if it makes me the stupidest person on the planet.
And, unfortunately for both of us, it’s one thing my dear, sweet, Ricky doesn’t seem to have.
“So?” he pushes. “What do you say, Violet?”
Refusing to give Jagger another second of my time, I lean my elbows on the counter separating me from Ricky. “Ricky, I’m really flattered—”
His eyes drop to the ground. “It’s okay. We can drop it.”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” I rush out. “I was just impressed, is all. Talk about some smooth talking, Ricky.” I force a smile. “Asking me for my number like that.”
The kid lights up like a Christmas tree. “Really?”
“Yeah, for sure!” I gush. “You are quite the catch, my friend.”
“Yeah?”
I reach out and smooth down his rumpled shirt. Why couldn’t I have fallen for a guy like him? “Mm-hmm. Unfortunately—”
“Unfortunately, she’s taken,” someone growls from the front of the shop.
My head twists to the left, and my brows pinch as I register Jagger’s words. Taken? By who? Santa Claus?
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“I said, you’re taken.”
“You’re taken?” Ricky asks.
“Hey, it’s news to me as much as it is to you,” I reply, turning back to Jagger. “Since when?”
“Since the moment I had my fingers—”
“Aaaand, I need to take my smoke break,” I announce, praying my face doesn’t betray me by turning into a freaking tomato.
“You smoke?” Ricky all but squeals.
“I do today.” Rounding the edge of the counter, I push Jagger into one of the furthest booths on the opposite side from where he and his little date were residing ten seconds ago and throw my hands up in the air. “What the hell?”
“What?”
“What do you mean, what?” I demand. “You can’t come into my work and say—”
“That I’ve had my fingers inside you?”
My eyes bulge even more. “Jagger—”
“That I’ve had my cock inside you?”
“Jagger!” I smack his chest and peek over my shoulder. Hopefully, we’re far enough away that no one can eavesdrop on our conversation because that would be really awkward.
“Does it bother you?” Jagger moves closer. His broad shoulders take up so much space, I swear there’s no oxygen in the room left for my brain. “Knowing I know what you feel like? Taste like?”
My cheeks heat even more. “Jagger—”
“That your little friend knows I know what you taste like?” he continues, like I haven’t spoken at all.
Is he serious right now? He can’t say things like this. Not when he’s here with another girl. The man is seriously deranged if he finds this appropriate after showing up at my work with someone else when he was inside me less than eight hours ago.
I shouldn’t care. I’m no one. Not to him. Not to anyone, really, and it’s best I remember that.
“Where is this coming from?” I ask. “We slept together. You sleep with a lot of girls—”
“And I say when I’m done sleeping with them,” he growls. “And you, Violet Reeves, I’m not done with.”
Unable to help myself, I glance toward his date across the coffee shop, then fold my arms. “You sure have a funny way of showing it.”
He follows my gaze. “You’re making assumptions.”
“That’s rich, considering you just interrupted a very innocent conversation with a very nice—and normal—guy to claim me like a caveman.”
His jaw clenches. “You’ll have to forgive me for having an issue with you giving out your number to random men at work.”
I scoff. “Pretty sure you have no room to talk, since you’ve clearly been collecting numbers—and using them—while we’ve been talking.
” I unfold my arms, then cross them again, feeling like an alien in my own skin, I’m so annoyed.
“Tell me, how long did you wait before texting her? Were the sheets even cold? And why bring her here?” I ramble.
“This is…I mean, I knew you were an ass, but this feels like a new low—”
“She’s my sister.”
“I mean, how could you—” My words die on my tongue, and I pull back, confused. “What did you say?”
“The girl over there?” He tilts his head toward the booth. “The one you assumed I was on a date with? She’s my little sister.”
My mouth feels like it’s coated in sandpaper as I peek at the woman in question all over again.
She’s staring at me. All honey hair and green eyes.
Now that he mentions it, I guess I can see the resemblance.
Oh my God. I really am a fool. I thought they were on a date?
Really? With an awkward wave, she picks up her coffee cup and takes another sip.
Clearly, she knows we’re talking about her.
And clearly, I look like a crazy person.
“Oh,” I breathe out.
“Yeah. Oh.” His hand slips into the front pocket of my apron and he tugs me closer to him. The heat of his hand manages to seep through my jeans and grazes just left of my pubic bone, leaving me dizzy. How? How does this man do this to me?
“Why’d you sneak out of my bed this morning?” he asks. It isn’t bossy. Simply straightforward.
But even then, I can’t help but want to deflect. “Work. Obviously.”
“I didn’t ask why you’re here. I asked why you snuck out of my bed.”
“Jagger—”
“Answer the question.”
Nostrils flaring, I mutter, “I didn’t want to wake you.”
He shakes his head. “The truth, Little Thief.”
“It is true,” I argue. “You’d already helped me enough, and—”
“Enough?” he challenges. “As in, there’s a limit to how much I can help you?”
“That’s not what I meant, I just…”
“I know you’re not used to relying on people, but if I’m risking a shit-ton to pursue this, I need you to let me in.”
“Let you in, huh?” I peek to my left, realizing exactly how many people in the shop are watching our exchange. “If this is your idea of lying low, then…”
“That ship sailed the moment I saw your expression fall when your dad showed up last night.”
He mentioned it before. When we were talking in the bed of his truck.
I kind of swept it aside, convinced he didn’t mean it.
Not really. That he would’ve helped anyone the way he jumped in and helped me.
But then, I think about how the rest of the night played out and…
What was last night? Was it a fluke? A one-time thing?
I thought I knew what I wanted, but it was mainly predicated on Jagger’s usual response to women.
As in…using them for sex and nothing more.
Yet here he is, standing in front of me in the middle of an overcrowded coffee shop saying he wants me.
Why does he want me?
He nudges my chin up, and my lips part in a whisper. “Jagger.”
“What is it, Little Thief?”
Subtly, I look around again. “Everyone’s watching.”
“Might as well get used to it, Vi.” He moves in closer, letting me taste his breath. “You’re dating Harden Heights royalty.”
Our mouths are only a breath apart. He’s baiting me. Letting me decide if and when I’m ready to close the distance and kiss Jagger Harden in front of everyone. Instead, I shift back slightly, peering up at him through my lashes. “Dating?”
“Would you prefer I call it fucking?”
“It would make more sense,” I offer. “Especially when you and I haven’t even been on an actual date.”
“Would you like me to rectify that?”
“Are you asking me out?”
He hesitates before dipping his head in a nod. “Yeah, Vi. Seems I am.”
“Are student teachers allowed to date students?” I challenge.
With a bark of laughter, he pecks my lips, then lets my chin go. “And they say I’m the one with commitment issues.” He rolls his eyes. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Jagger—”
“Violet!” my manager calls. Her hands are in the air in a what-the-hell gesture.
Shit. I’m at work, and this is not a conversation for work. Right.
Grimacing, I murmur, “I have to go.” I start to walk away, but he grabs my wrist, preventing my escape.
“One more thing,” he rasps against the shell of my ear. “If I see another man ask for your number and the first words out of your mouth aren’t, Sorry, I’m taken, I have no issue tattooing I belong to Jagger Harden across your ass. Understood?”
My breath hitches as I stare up at him.
“Understood?”
The low growl of his voice tugs in my gut, and I press my thighs together. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Good girl.”
He lets me go, and I slip between a few customers in the growing line, rounding the counter and taking my place behind the register.
And it’s funny. Because even though the idea of going out with Jagger Harden should terrify me, I can’t help the onslaught of butterflies low in my stomach as the same thought filters through me over and over again for the rest of my shift.
I’m going on a date with Jagger Harden tonight.