Chapter 3
three
WILL
Zeke: So… is it possible to get a ghost pregnant? Asking for a friend.
Phoebe: Who needs jump scares when you can have pregnancy scares? Am I right??
Will: I have a meeting.
Brewed Awakening is hopping this morning. It’s a crisp, fall morning, and even the tables outside are packed with folks enjoying the weather. But I don’t have time for that—I’ve got five minutes to get in, get out, and make it to the library before eight.
“Anything else this morning?” The chipper blonde behind the counter asks after I order my dark roast.
She looks up at me through mascaraed lashes and flashes me a smile. It’s not just for the sake of customer service—she does this every time I’m in here. But she’s too young, too nice. She doesn’t know what kind of stock I come from.
Nah, this chick only thinks she wants a guy like me.
“That’s all,” I say, swiping my card. I stuff a couple bucks in the tip jar, just to be polite. It’s not like I’m going to be stuffing anything else anywhere near her.
Glancing at my watch, I move to the far end of the counter. Four minutes until I’m late to my meeting, and I hate being late. Behind the flirty blonde at the counter, I see a barista set a fresh urn of coffee to brew.
“Goddamn,” I mutter.
I know the blonde hears me because she shoots me an uncertain smile, but I don’t apologize. Because, really. Drip coffee should not be taking this long.
I drum my fingers on the counter, wondering if the coffee’s even worth it. I could dip out. If I hop in the truck now, it’ll take me three minutes to get downtown, thirty seconds to park, forty-five seconds to sprint—
“Fuck!” I roar as something comes crashing into my chest.
Out of nowhere, a searing wetness hits me, scalding my bare forearms and scaring the living shit out of me.
There’s a clatter as something drops and goes skittering across the cafe floor.
I look down at my shirt, where a dark stain is already soaking through the fabric.
The line of customers to my right is frozen, and everyone in the whole damn place is craning their necks to see what the hell’s going on.
“Well, that’s just great,” I hear a voice say. “There goes my coffee.”
I snap my gaze up. I’d been gearing up to shoulder check the bastard who just drenched me with coffee, but that voice? It’s definitely female.
And when my eyes land on the woman in question, who’s got one luscious hip cocked to the side in a stance of defiance, my balls tighten despite myself—because she is really fucking female.
And she’s staring at me with a face that’s absolutely livid.
Which, honestly, is pretty damn rich, given the fact that she dumped her coffee on me.
That snaps me out of it.
“I’m sorry—what?” I bark out a harsh laugh, tugging at my stained, dripping shirt. “That’s some apology you’ve got there.”
She huffs out an exasperated breath, looks me up and down. She’s clearly more upset that her coffee’s gone than she is that she spilled it all over me.
“You know what? I am sorry—sorry you were standing so damn close to the counter. What were you doing?!”
“What do you mean what was I doing? I was standing here minding my own business!”
She scoffs and turns away, waving to the barista. As she gestures apologetically to her sopping cup, I can’t help but notice the curve of her ass in her jeans. The way her hips are all pressed up against the counter. It’s enough to set my balls to aching again, but I jerk my gaze away.
It takes a lot for me to lose control these days, and I’m sure as fuck not letting some smug-ass woman who can’t even watch where she’s going get to me. I’ll rub one out when I get home tonight. It’s always easier that way.
“Where’s my phone?” The woman looks indignant, her eyes raking over me like she thinks I stole it or something.
I shrug. I’m still pissed about my coffee-stained t-shirt. I’m going to have to walk into this meeting looking a mess. Great way to start off a project I’m banking on for my career. Just superb.
The blond barista pours a stream of dark, silky coffee into a paper cup, snaps the lid on, and slides it to me across the counter with the flash of a sympathetic smile.
As I move to take the cup from her, I accidentally kick something and stoop down to pick it up.
I can feel Little Miss Smug’s eyes on my back.
I flip the iPhone over in my hands and see the screen’s lit up.
I guess the non-apologizer was in the middle of a conversation when all hell broke loose.
I know I shouldn’t, but honestly, I barely realize I’m staring at the screen until I find myself reading the text that’s in those little blue bubbles.
Can’t stop thinking about how good you look sucking my cock. Choking on it. My hands tangled up in your hair, pulling til you scream.
I don’t know if my eyes go wide, or if it’s the little chuckle that escapes me that does it, but suddenly Miss Can’t-Apologize lunges at me and snatches her phone out of my hand.
I’m still a little shocked by what I just saw, but I can’t bring myself to look at her yet because my dick’s stiffening in my jeans and I just know I won’t be able to avoid looking at her mouth and… imagining things.
I clear my throat.
Get your shit together, Will. You’re in fucking public, and you’re going to be late.
When I sense that Her Royal Smugness has turned back to the counter to take her second coffee from the barista, I pull it together enough to watch as she shoves her phone into her bag. The creamy skin of her neck is flushed pink. She knows I saw the text.
But the only thing she should be embarrassed about is the coffee. That text? Completely understandable.
This chick may need to learn how to take some responsibility, but I don’t blame whoever sent it for wanting to pull that long, silky hair.