Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Kash
Ithink I deserve an award for the amount of restraint I’ve shown. I miss my Mila. A lot. I’ve been keeping tabs on her, and here’s what I’ve discovered.
First, my girl is an early riser, like early.
Before it’s even light outside early. I may or may not have camped out when I discovered she lives in the apartment above their coffee shop.
That doesn’t feel very safe. What happens if there’s a fire or an intruder at their business? I need to get her out of there.
Second, she’s kind. To everyone. I’ve watched her at the counter interacting with their customers, and where Mara is all sharp edges, Mila is soft. She smiles at everyone and seems genuinely happy. I’d kill to have one of those smiles aimed my way.
Third, she doesn’t eat much. I’ve watched her work from six AM until one thirty in the afternoon, and I don’t think she ever stops to take a break. Unless she packs—though I never see her take anything in with her but her water bottle—she’s not properly taking care of herself.
Thank God she has me now.
Deciding I’ve waited long enough, I exit my SUV and jog across the street. I have a long night ahead of me at the shop, so I need my Mila fix. It’s been too long.
When I walk into Twin Roasts, I take a deep breath. They aren’t super busy, but there’s a few tables taken along the wall. Mila spends most of her time in the kitchen, but I see the same girl from last time behind the counter. Perfect.
“Hi, Joelle. Mila in?” I know she is, but I can’t say it outright.
She looks me over briefly, then shrugs. “I can check. She might already be gone for the day. Is it about an order?”
“Of sorts, yeah. Can you let her know Kash is here?”
Nodding, she steps toward the kitchen. A minute or two passes before Mila comes out.
She looks so pretty today. A light-yellow shirt hugs her perfect body, and I don’t miss the way her jeans mold over her curves.
Mila has a natural beauty that I appreciate so much.
She doesn’t have to plaster makeup all over her face to be pretty; she just is.
Her eyes soften slightly when they find mine.
“Hey. Can you talk a second?” I croak out. What the fuck? Why do I sound nervous? I have no reason to be. Mila is mine.
Nodding, she offers me a smile. “Sure. Do you want a coffee or anything? I was getting ready to take a break while the bread is baking.”
Fuck me if that’s not an olive branch. I’m taking it. “Sure. Whatever you think is good.”
“Gotcha. Give me a few, and I’ll join you over there.” She points to the table we were at last time.
Is this happening? It’s almost too good to be true. She didn’t tell me to get lost, and she’s joining me, without being handcuffed to my arm.
Mila heads my way a few minutes later as promised, two cups in her hand and a plate. Standing, I grab the plate and drinks from her. “You should have waited. I would have grabbed those for you.”
Setting them on the table, I gesture for her to sit. Can I count this as a date? No. Mila deserves more than a quick bread break as a date.
“So, what can I do for you, Kash?” she asks, taking a sip of her drink.
That is a loaded question. Let me take you to bed, marry you, have little mini-Milas and love you forever probably isn’t what she wants to hear, so I settle for something a bit tamer. “Go out with me. Please.”
Laughing lightly, she sits back and gestures toward my untouched cup on the table. “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Kash.”
“Why not?” I’m curious why she won’t give me a chance. I need to hear what her reservations are so I can fix them. I’m willing to try regular routes before resorting to kidnapping.
“Well, for one, I’m not your type.”
“You are my only type.”
Continuing like I didn’t interrupt, she adds, “Your friend is dating my friend, and it would get messy if we started something and it didn’t work out. Plus, given your dating history, or lack of it, I don’t do hookups and you don’t do relationships.”
“I don’t either. Well, not anymore. I’m not that guy, Mila. Let me show you.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, my gaze immediately dips, causing her to laugh. “Yeah, you’re not that guy, Kash, but you just looked at my chest.”
“I can’t help it. It’s a part of you, and I like all parts of you.”
“That’s such a line.” Mila scoffs. For being the ‘nice twin,’ my girl sure is hard on my ego. “Kash,” she continues, “I think we could be good friends, but I don’t think more would work. You’re a nice guy, and obviously good-looking. You’ll have no problem finding a girl.”
Winner, winner. There she is. “So, you think I’m good-looking?
” I almost preen like a peacock. I knew she was affected by me.
I can work with this. It makes the whole ‘might have to kidnap her’ thing a bit less extreme.
If Mila is already attracted to me, and willing to admit it, I just have to break down those walls around her. Game on.
“Okay, Mila,” I concede. “We can start as friends. After all, the best relationships are built on a solid foundation of friendship and communication. So, tell me something about you then.”
Mila stares at me in silence for an eternity, then puts me out of my misery by asking, “What do you want to know?”
What do you look and sound like when you come? Do you like being fucked hard or soft? If I wrap my fist around your hair and guide you to your knees, what would you do? Do you want to build a life with me and have a dozen kids?
Of course, I can’t ask her any of those things, so I settle for something less shocking.
“Tell me about one of your tattoos. Where it is, what it is, who did it etc.” God, I hope it wasn’t done by some guy.
If I can’t see them, that means they’re some place private, and the idea someone saw her like that makes me see red.
“Hmm…” She thinks for a moment, her lips pursed. “Mara and I have matching tattoos. We got them shortly after we turned eighteen. Our parents weren’t fans, but they got over it.”
“What’d you get?”
“You’ll probably appreciate it,” she tosses out, gesturing to the side of her head, “since you have those constellations there. Ursa Major, right?”
Well, color me impressed. My girl knows about the sky and mythology. “Yeah, it’s not just the Big Dipper.”
“Right.” She grins, “It’s a collection of stars, or mini groupings, anyways.” She waves her hand. “Mara and I are twins, and our birthday happens to be toward the end of May, so we got—"
“Gemini,” I fill in. There’s only one twin constellation and it’s Gemini. I love that. Some of the twins we’ve tattooed at the shop have done similar things but knowing that Mila and Mara have it makes it feel less ordinary.
“Yep. So, I got mine on my left shoulder, and Mara’s is on her right.” Laughing she adds, “It’s why Mara claims she’s right most of the time.”
“Who did them?”
“The parent of one of our friends from school. Both of her parents are tattoo artists, so we got them done by her mom. Total badass of a woman.”
“Did she do all of them?” I ask because I need to know. I have to figure out who else has touched her skin and how to remove their fingertips.
“Sure did. She does good work, so I don’t see why I should change it up. Have you ever heard of Midnight Ink?”
There’s no way. “You’re joking. That’s Wendy’s shop. She has like a two year wait list.” I love Wendy’s work. Her husband, Simon, was a contestant on one of those tattoo shows and made it down to the final few. Her work is just as amazing.
“Yeah. Wendy and Simon are cool people. They used us as guinea pigs, but it’s okay; they’re skilled,” she supplies with a smile, like it’s no big deal she knows tattoo royalty. The guys and I are good, but they’re on another level.
I’m learning so much about my girl. But I need more. How can I get her to see I’m serious? Mila gives me a quick look, then nods to someone behind me. Turning my head, I see it’s Joelle. I guess my time is up. I’m lucky to get what I did.
Testing my luck, I ask, “Why don’t you give me your phone number? Since we’re friends and all now. I have all my friends' numbers just in case of emergency.” Unlocking my phone, I slide it across the table.
Mila picks it up, looking at me. I suddenly feel nervous.
I’ve never worked so hard to get a girl before, but I can’t wait to tell our kids about this moment.
The one where I borderline begged for their mom’s phone number because I repeatedly bothered her while she was at work just so she'd talk to me for five minutes.
I watch with bated breath as she types into my phone, then offers it back. Going into my contacts, I notice hers right away. My friend Mila. Oh, that’s cute, but it’s getting changed. Sending her a text message, I wait for her to pull her phone from her pocket.
“Since you named yourself in my phone, it’s only fair I name myself in yours,” I joke, holding my hand out, gesturing toward hers.
Shrugging her pretty little shoulders, Mila hands over her phone. Going into her text messages, I see some from Cora and Mara, plus her parents, but no one else. Good. Tapping on the message I sent, I add my contact and update the name. Darkening the screen, I stand and offer it back to her.
As she gets to her feet, I lean in closer, taking in the way her breath hitches.
You can push me away all you want, Sweet Girl, but we haven’t even started.
“Have a great day, Mila.” I bend down, testing my luck, placing a quick kiss to her cheek.
I can’t help myself. I need to touch her somewhere, and if I pull her in for a hug, I’m likely to pick her up and run out of here with her.
She freezes under my touch but turns her head to face me. When her light brown eyes meet mine, I offer her a genuine smile. I had so much fun talking to her, and I wish we had more time.
“Bye, Kash,” she murmurs softly, stepping to the side. Wringing her hands together, she heads toward the kitchen. Pausing at the door, she turns around to look at me once more, offering a small wave. Even from twenty feet away, I can see the way she blushes.
“Bye, Mila.” I wave back.
As the door swings shut behind her, I tell myself to be cool. Not only did I get her number, but now, I have the groundwork laid, and it’s given me the best idea for my next move. Mila won’t know what hit her.