Chapter 13
JASON
I take her to this brunch place in the city. It’s your standard, gentrified restaurant with exposed brick and too much industrial metal and random wildflowers. Too hipster for my taste. But it does have some great biscuits and some of the best coffee blends.
She makes a big fuss about their menu.
“Peach cobbler waffles with ice cream for breakfast,” she says looking at the picture menu. “I regret ordering the double chocolate fudge pancakes.”
“You like your sweets, don’t you?”
Eileen smiles at me. She swipes some foam off the top of her latte, lapping it up with a moan. She moans a little louder when she takes her first sip.
That’s it, she’s trying to kill me. She not only looks beautiful today, but those noises she’s making are making me think all kinds of naughty thoughts. I should keep my thoughts out of the gutter when it comes to her.
Guilt claws at me when I think about what could happen if we hooked up. She’s about to become part of the family. We are also sort of friends. Eileen is off limits. I have standards, rules, and limits. I can’t be bedding some chick I’ll be seeing at the next family reunion.
Yet, here we are, eating brunch and hanging out like two people who are getting to know each other — even—flirting. I should stop doing that just about now. Treat her like my sister. I look at her and she’s nothing like June or Jeannette.
How about Emmeline?
“I think I’m addicted to caffeine,” she suddenly confesses, and I smile.
A woman after my own heart. You’re perfect, I think.
I raise my cup to her. “Guess that makes two of us.”
She smirks, reaching over the table. What the fuck is she—
“Here,” she says as she swipes some foam from my cup before sticking it in my face. “I think you’ve—”
“What are you doing—” I try to dodge her, futilely.
She gets me right on the lip. My skin is warm from the sizzle of her touch. I have a hard time thinking, and I’m craving more of that warmth.
“Yeah, see? You’ve got something on your face,” she says with a lopsided grin.
A fucking foam mustache. Why didn’t I think of that?
Well, two can play at this game.
“Oh no, you seem to have something too,” I say as I grab some foam from my cup. “Let me help with that.”
“Nope, nuh-uh,” she protests lightly as she leans back.
“I insist,” I say.
She dodges well enough for me to miss her upper lip but not her forehead. Her breath catches. The sound tightens my chest. And I retrieve my hand out of fear because I want to run my finger across her gorgeous face, trace a line on her long, beautiful neck and follow it with my lips.
But the playful atmosphere changes radically.
Eileen is quiet now that she’s sporting a coffee foam unibrow and a scowl. For a second, I’m worried I’ve pushed the wrong button and she’s going to murder me, but for real. She uses her crappy phone camera to get a look at herself.
“Wow, you got me good,” she says with a laugh. “I’m impressed.”
“Yeah?” I ask hesitantly, afraid that she can hear my thoughts and guess my needs.
“Yeah,” she says with a soft smile. “Let’s hope your taste in music is as good as your sense of humor.”
I think my heart forgets to work for a second. I can’t think straight, so I go with what I know best—that goddamn sense of humor.
“You wish your taste in music was as good as mine,” I say, waggling my eyebrows suggestively.
She rolls her eyes with a smile that tells me she gets it. Yep, I can safely say this woman is going to be the death of me if I don’t raise my walls.
But do I want to do it?
“So, you like coffee, sugar, and beer,” I conclude. “What else is there to know about Eileen McBean?”
She’s quiet as the waiter sets up our breakfast. “Would you like another latte?”
“Another round for both,” I order and thank her as she leaves.
“It’s not beer,” Eileen says, and then she does it again. Another long moan as she takes the first bite of her pancakes.
Fuck. If she sounds like that while eating, how does she sound when she’s making love? My dick threatens to break a few rules. My mind is doing the same. A woman like her is priceless. One of a kind and—what would I give to find out more about Eileen? Not just in bed, but…
Stop, I order myself.
She shoots over a smile and says, “You haven’t touched your food.”
I stare at her like a teenager crushing for the first time.
Be strong, Spearman.
The fear of doing something stupid, like throw caution to the wind, makes me dig deep into the memories. Because I know this story. It starts with fun and games but at the end, one of us will be waiting for something that’ll never happened.
Hell if I’ll let that happen to me again.