Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
No, he is dangerous. That much is clear. He’s driving me insane.
4
OWEN
It’s a bright day as I park at my usual coffee spot on the western edge of the city. I hop out and step into the building, the smell of a rich brew flavoring the air as people grab their drinks and head out or pick a table by one of the bright windows.
“The usual?” The girl at the counter gives me a wink.
“Yes, please.”
“It’s nice out today,” she says as she starts working on my coffee.
“Beautiful. I think it’s going to stay warm. No more cold snaps.” I glance around, looking at everyone in the place, but not directly. Just getting the lay of the land so I can decide if I want to sit and sip or take it to go.
“The new park over on Fifth just opened. I hear they have a lot of tulips coming up. I’d love to see them.”
I swipe my card and head to the other end of the counter to wait for my drink.
The bell on the door rings, another customer entering. I look up and find a woman with bright blue hair sauntering in.
“I get off in a couple of hours.”
The woman with the blue hair walks up to the register and waits, her gaze sliding over to me a few times.
“Here you are.” The barista holds out my cup.
“Thanks.”
She doesn’t let it go as I reach for it. I pull back before I touch her.
“So about this afternoon…” She looks at me expectantly.
The blue-haired woman clears her throat as the doorbell tinkles again.
The barista rolls her eyes and puts the coffee down, then hurries to take the next order. Grabbing the coffee and taking a drink, I glance in the direction of the door. Another woman enters the shop, her blond hair in a prim bun and her black cat-eye glasses perched perfectly on her nose. She looks around, her gaze hovering on me for a second longer than everything else–or perhaps it’s just my imagination.
She takes a deep breath, then walks to get in line behind the blue-haired woman. As she goes, her hips sway, the baggy sweatshirt and loose jeans doing nothing to conceal her curvy body from me. When she nibbles her bottom lip, a jolt of heat courses through me that has absolutely nothing to do with the scorching hot coffee.
She lowers her chin, her gaze on the floor as I decide to grab a table. As I sit, I can’t keep my eyes off her.
The blue-haired woman confidently gives her order as the beauty shuffles up behind her. I sip my drink and watch her, silently creating her order in my mind. Not coffee. She isn’t a slave to the roasted devil like I am. No. She’s soft and delicious with the slightest hint of bitter to make it all the sweeter. Hot chocolate. That’s her. Extra cream.
I sit back as the blue-haired woman moves to the pick-up counter and the blonde quietly gives her order. Turning my head to the side, I catch the soft tones of her voice. “Hot chocolate, extra cream.”
Taking a drink, I hide the smile on my face behind the cup.
The blue-haired woman gets her coffee and takes the table at my back.
She bumps into my chair. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she practically purrs.
I keep my eyes on the blonde as she waits for her drink. “No worries,” I say, not even turning my head.
When she takes the hot chocolate from the barista, something crosses her eyes. Maybe it’s simply the glint of light on her glasses, but I could swear there’s something almost devious in her gaze as she knocks the drink over, spilling it all over the barista’s apron.
“Oh!” the blonde exclaims. “I’m so sorry.”
The barista jumps back, frowning at the mess. “It’s all right. Happens all the time.”
“I’m just so clumsy,” the blonde coos, and I could swear there’s an edge to it. “Would you mind making me another?”
The woman behind me snickers.
“Of course.” The barista towels up the mess and grabs another cup.
The blonde takes the second one without incident and heads for a table toward the back.
As she passes by, I inhale, catching her scent. It’s fruity and floral, like some sort of expensive soap. I try to catch her eye, but she keeps her gaze lowered as she takes a seat. For a moment, I consider going to her table and sitting down. But I don’t. Not when I notice the slight shake in her fingers as she reaches for her cup. She’s nervous.
Why?
I glance around, looking for a reason. But there’s only a couple a few tables over, the woman behind me, and the barista. There’s no reason for her to worry.
Rather than spooking her more, I simply sit and enjoy my coffee and the view. I try not to look directly at her, but it’s difficult, especially when she’s so goddamn adorable. I’ve been to this coffee shop dozens of times and have never seen her in here before. I wonder what’s brought her here today? I want to ask, to get to know her, to find out little details, to tease out the parts of her that she doesn’t like sharing.