Chapter 1 #2
She groaned under her breath. She already ran late again, and she’d run out of her good mascara that morning, after having only finished one eye. And now, the only person separating her from the register had taken the last blueberry muffin.
Fucking great.
Pocketing her phone, she ordered her usual and moved to the pickup area.
“Here.”
A hand extended a paper bag, the starchy brown material emanating a magnetic smell.
Tilting her chin further up, she met the piercing gaze of the man from Friday.
Again, the feeling she’d seen him somewhere before rushed through the gate that slammed inside her.
Her gaze flicked between him and the bag. “I’m sorry?”
“Here,” he repeated. “Take the muffin, I don’t want it.”
Her eyes narrowed as she cautiously retrieved the bag from his grasp. As she did, she caught the glimmer of a limited edition Patek Phillipe watch poking out from under his blazer sleeve.
Why did this guy own so many damn watches?
Do the rich need a reason to do anything? She peered into the bag and beheld a blueberry muffin. “I … what?”
He shrugged. “It was going to be my breakfast, but I’m not as hungry as I thought. I heard you ordering one on Friday, so … here. Think of it as an olive branch for taking your coffee.”
He remembered that? More importantly, when had he even heard her order? He’d had an earbud in, right?
But her heart stumbled, sending her crashing straight into a brick wall.
She’d had exes who couldn’t even remember her damn birthday, but a stranger in a second-rate coffee shop recalled her order from a random Friday?
Was this some scheme? Was she about to get kidnapped? Was the muffin a signal to someone else?Once she accepted it, was a white van going to pull up in front of the coffee shop?
Her therapist’s voice in her head reminded her that it was a little much.
But Sophie heard too many horror stories to keep her mind from wandering there, not to mention the trust issues she harbored.
She mentally saluted the man who had abandoned his family. Thanks, Dad.
“Look, I understand your hesitation,” he said. “But the muffin’s not going to eat itself.”
He has a point … and if he’s not going to eat it …
Taking a deep breath, she closed her hand around the bag, the paper rustling with her touch. “Um … thanks.”
He nodded.
She stood there, not sure what else to say. What did you say to someone who gave up their breakfast for you?
“James.”
She was going to get whiplash from the number of times she looked up at him suddenly. “What?”
His gaze sketched down to her, lingering for a second too long before focusing ahead of him again. “My name. It’s James.”
She struggled to find the right words. “I … okay.”
He raised his voice slightly to be heard over the rattle of the coffee grinder. “I thought it’d be polite, since I know your name.”
He smiled slightly and fuck. A brief tilting of the lips shouldn’t have been so attractive.
But on his full lips, it was.
Oh, God, what was wrong with her? Why was this stranger who took her coffee and called her a sofa, making her weak in the knees?
Did you learn nothing from your exes?! Or did turning twenty-eight do something to your brain?
She swallowed. “Uh, okay. Is it just James, or do you have a last name?”
He considered for a moment. “Tian.”
“Oh, like the shipping company?”
A small smile touched his lips. “Same spelling, but I’m not associated with them. What about you? Last name?”
“Huang.”
She didn’t consider it wrong to give him her last name. After all, there were probably hundreds of Huangs in Manhattan alone, and she was willing to bet more than a handful of those were Sophies.
Besides, he didn’t strike her as a psychotic killer.
Chloe’s voice popped into her head. ‘Hey, remember when we watched American Psycho?’
James plucked a cup from the counter and extended it to her. “Your coffee, Sophie Huang.”
She reached for the cup. “Thanks.”
His fingers brushed hers, and she couldn’t help it—her breath hitched. It was a miracle she didn’t drop the coffee entirely.
Warmth seeped into her fingers, and she frowned.
“Hang on, this isn’t mine,” she said. “Did they mess it up again?”
She swore she ordered an iced coffee.
“No, they didn’t mess it up. Rotate it.”
Twisting the blue and white cup, she inspected the name scrawled at the top.
‘James’
Her gaze lifted. “This is—you can’t give me your coffee and your muffin.”
That was way too much. He just met her. Who was he to willingly hand over his entire breakfast?
But you’re taking it.
He lifted a shoulder. “I just did.”
She sighed. “Okay, well. How do you know I’ll even—”
She cut off as his order drifted back to her. ‘I’ll do a medium coffee, no cream, and one sugar.’
Aside from the hot coffee, that was her order.
He tilted his head. “Did I get it?”
Clearing her throat, she clutched the cup. “Right, well. Uh. Do you have the time?”
He hitched up the sleeve of his blazer to check his glimmering watch.
“Eight-twenty.”
“Shit,” she muttered.
She started to turn on her heel, but stopped and raised the cup towards him. “Thanks for the coffee, James Tian.”
Now that she had his full name, she knew it sounded familiar, but still couldn’t place why.
Making a mental note to Google him later, she rushed out the door.