“Don’t be,” he says. “I’m not.”Chapter SevenPRI
My beautiful new neighbor is back with his goatee, dark hair, and chiseled features looking better than ever, right here in my favorite coffee shop, standing so close. The mix of masculine spice and freshly baked sugar cookies is ridiculously, unexpectedly erotic. So much so that I have to remind myself that I’ve made an enemy of the King Devil, and who better to send to watch me, set me up, or even kill me than a beautiful monster? He’s also still touching me and I yank my hands back. “I should get my coffee.”
I start to turn and he catches my elbow, and Lord help me, heat rushes up my arm and across my chest. As if that’s not enough, my nipples pucker beneath the lace of my bra. “What just happened?” he asks. “Why are you running from me?”
Damn him for being so perceptive, or maybe damn me for being so obvious. “Nothing. I just wanted to let you order.” He glances at the manager. “Whatever she had,” he says, tossing a twenty on the counter. “Keep the change.”
All the while, he’s still touching me and I don’t know why I’m not pulling away. His attention returns to me, though somehow I feel as if it was always on me, even when he was looking away, his body shifting just enough to shelter me from the manager’s eyes, as he softly asks, “Is this about the kiss?”
“No. Yes. I mean no.” My lashes lower and then lift, “God, what is it about you that makes me forget how to make a point?” I don’t wait for his reply. “It’s not the kiss. The kiss was—” I hesitate, not sure how to finish that sentence, considering where I’m at in my life right now.
He arches a brow. “It was?” he prods, not about to let me off the hook on this one, clearly.
I don’t make him push hard and with good reason. I hate lies and games, so I speak honestly, “Good and bad. The bad is that now is not a good time for this.” I twist away from him, grab my coffee and head to my seat. Once I’m settled behind my computer, I sip my coffee, which is a butterscotch latte. It’s an acquired taste, and I’m aware that Rafael just ordered what I ordered. Somehow, I’m watching as he retrieves his order and I tell myself to look away, I do, but he’s addictive, pure sex. I thought I favored men in suits, but not so much right about now. Now, I seem to favor denim, tattoos peeking from T-shirt sleeves, and boots. His jeans and T-shirt are both dark blue and snug enough that I can appreciate his broad shoulders and perfect ass.
He begins to turn and I quickly eye my computer screen, sipping my coffee. About twenty seconds later, he slides into the seat across from me, setting his cookie and cup on the table. When I look up, I melt in a pool of his warm chocolate brown eyes as he says, “Here’s a good reason to get to know me.”
I smile. “Okay. What’s the good reason?”
“I tell bad jokes and I laugh at them so you don’t have to.”
But I do indeed laugh. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll bite. Tell me a bad joke.”
“You didn’t think that was a joke?”
“You can do better,” I challenge, surprised at how easily I’ve relaxed into the moment with a man I’ve only just met.
“Okay,” he says. “You asked for it.” He pretends to roll up his non-existent sleeves, and I notice the skull in the midst of a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. He sips his coffee. “Butterscotch,” he says. “I like it. I’m inspired to tell a really stupid joke.” I smile and he adds, “We’re in Texas A&M joke territory so that’s where I’m headed. Did you hear about the Aggie who won a gold medal at the Olympics? He was so proud of it he got it bronzed.”
I laugh. “That was indeed cheesy.”
“I specialize in cheesy. And it did make you laugh.”
“Yes. Thank you. I needed that, actually.”
He leans in closer, sobering as he does. “About our timing.”
Our timing, I repeat in my mind. There is something about the way he represents us as one that does funny things to my belly. “What about it?” I ask.
“I’ve learned that now is always better than later. There might not be a later.”
He hits ten nerves all at once. “Exactly,” I whisper rather fiercely. “I want you to have a later. And me, too.”
His eyes narrow, sharpen. “What does that mean? Talk to me, Pri.”
“I don’t even know you,” I remind him. “And you don’t know me.”
“I want to know you. Do you want to know me?”