CHAPTER 6 #3
I rolled my eyes because this conversation and situation in general were also completely ridiculous. “Iced white chocolate mocha with almond milk, no whip, extra foam.”
“Sounds delicious. I’ll have that.” He gave me that genuine smile again, and Mara dropped a stack of cups with a loud clatter.
I, unfortunately, reacted by gripping his cup a little too hard.
The paper cracked in my hand, and I reluctantly reached for another one, acutely aware of his knowing gaze on me.
I cleared my throat, shaking my head a little as if I were in fact under a spell.
“Why, exactly, are you ordering the drink I like?”
“Because you look like a woman with good taste,” he said easily.
Mara all but moaned at that statement, and I was a little worried she was about to spontaneously combust. “I can assure you I don’t,” I murmured distractedly, glancing at her over my shoulder.
“Oh?” he asked.
When I faced him again, he’d leaned in closer. “Bad track record?”
I stiffened, realizing what I’d just implied.
“Let me guess,” he continued smoothly. “You picked the wrong wine once. Maybe the wrong shoes.”
His gaze dipped to the cheap ring on my left hand, lingering just long enough to make my stomach twist, before lifting back to my face. “Or the wrong husband.”
“I’ll get you that coffee,” I said, my voice betraying me with the slightest shake as I turned toward the coffee bar behind me.
I took my time making his drink while Mara tried to flirt her way into his bedroom, and from the brief, politely uninterested way he answered her, it was obvious he wasn’t encouraging it.
A small, ridiculous spark of satisfaction flared in my chest. And then shame followed immediately behind it.
I slid the finished cup across the counter without looking at him, focusing instead on the cup, the lid, the way the ice shifted inside. If I kept my eyes on the coffee, maybe my body would stop reacting like he was standing too close.
“Here you go,” I said, aiming for blandly polite.
“Thank you, Eden.” The way he said my name forced my gaze up before I could stop it.
As he reached for the cup, his fingers brushed mine. The contact was brief . . . and it should have been nothing. But it sent a ripple through me, like the first tremor before something gave way. My breath hitched, and I felt it travel from my fingertips straight to my center.
He didn’t immediately pull back, and neither did I.
For half a second, we just stood there, connected by the thin line of skin against skin.
Something changed in his face, and the easy, self-assured amusement he’d been wearing since he’d walked in vanished.
His brows pulled together slightly, and his mouth parted just a fraction in something that almost looked like confusion.
His gaze dropped to our hands, then lifted back to my face, searching, as though I might have an explanation for whatever had just passed between us.
The bell over the door jingled, and he blinked, the moment shattering. He pulled his hand back, his fingers curling around the cup instead of me as he glanced toward the door.
Another man stepped in, and for a split second I wondered if I’d slipped into some alternate reality, because the probability of two of the most gorgeous men I’d ever seen walking into our run-down coffee shop felt statistically impossible.
This one had dark hair and a faint crescent scar near his chin that only made him more unfair to look at. He spotted the blond man immediately and walked toward him, leaning in once he got close. “We need to go,” he murmured.
His eyes suddenly shifted to me, and he gave me a slow, assessing once-over that made my shoulders square on instinct. He quickly winked, and I could have sworn I heard him add, quieter this time, “Is that her?”
The blond man didn’t answer right away. He took a sip of his coffee, set the cup down, and reached for his wallet. When he slid the hundred-dollar bill across the counter, my breath caught.
It was . . . absurd. Completely, undeniably absurd. Almost more than I made in an entire shift. I stared at it, then at him. “This is too much.”
He glanced down at it like he genuinely hadn’t registered the amount. “Is it?”
“Yes.” I pushed it back toward him. “I can’t take this.”
His fingers closed over the bill before it moved an inch. “You can,” he said evenly. “And you will.”
I swallowed. “Sir—”
“Keep it,” he added softly, like it wasn’t a command at all. “For the good taste.”
The other man cleared his throat pointedly, and the blond man finally stepped back, that maddening smile returning as if this hadn’t just knocked the breath out of me. “See you around, Eden.”
Then they were gone, the bell chiming cheerfully behind them.
I stood there for a long moment, staring down at the counter. My pulse thudded in my ears, and my fingers closed slowly around the bill like it might disappear if I loosened my grip. I had the insane thought then that he’d just walked in, rearranged something inside me . . .
And I still didn’t even know his name.