Mickie lifted what appeared to be a cinnamon sugar cruller to her un-glossed mouth without tearing her gaze from the screen. She took a giant bite. Of course, the freakin’ sugar got stuck to her lips, which she licked in the most unconsciously erotic move Keith had ever seen. Without meaning to, he groaned.
Laughter from behind him had his spine stiffening and his dick deflating. He knew that fucking laugh, half cackle, half smug guffaw.
Fucking Chuck.
Despite knowing better, he glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, the one person he hated above all stood right behind him in his uniform from where he worked as a manager the logging company.
Keith didn’t bother acknowledging Chuck’s irritating presence. Instead, he turned back and took a step forward, now one customer closer to much-needed caffeination.
“Oh, this brings back memories,” Chuck whispered way too close to Keith’s ear.
Giving in would be a mistake, but what the hell. “Oh yeah? You have a lot of good times waiting for coffee?” If he ignored Chuck, the asshole would likely get louder. They’d have curious customers staring at them in no time.
“Nah, I’m talking about you and me both looking at the same beautiful woman.” His crooked front teeth begged for a rearranging.
Keith was more than happy to provide the first to knock them back into place. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He went for as bored a tone as he could muster. If the line didn’t get moving, Chuck would be in danger of needing a straw to drink his coffee. This barista had to be the slowest employee in the café’s history.
“Sure you do. Your rich neighbor over there. Heard she’s spending a mint renovating her house,” Chuck whispered at Keith’s ear.
Goddammed small-town gossip.
“I see you drooling over her the same way you slobbered all over Della. Huh, maybe I’ll make a pass as this one. See if she chooses me over you same as Della did.”
Twenty years later, Chuck still couldn’t let Keith live his humiliating high school heartbreak down. Had he known at the time Della was only with him to punish Chuck, Keith wouldn’t have touched her with a ten-foot pole. Chuck had been brutal to him while Keith had been dating Della. Once she dumped him in an embarrassing display, Keith had assumed the taunts would stop, but Chuck loved nothing more than reminding Keith the well-off girl had left him because of his low-class family.
“But maybe she has a thing for white trash. Then you’d be perfect for her. They don’t make ’em trashier than you Bensons.”
Don’t take the bait.
“Bitch like that?” Chuck continued as though Keith had encouraged him. “Bet she’s a wild one in the sack. All classy on the outside, total freak once she’s near a dick.”
Keith gritted his teeth and willed the customer in front of him to stop adding to his enormous order. Though Keith would never describe Mickie in such crude terms, Chuck’s words hit a little too close to home considering the nature of their two sexual encounters. She’d been hotter than hell and adventurous once the expensive clothes came off.
Fucking finally, the customer handed over his credit card. Keith let out a sigh of relief until the goddammed card reader beeped with an error message.
For fuck’s sake.
“She’s got great tits, too. Maybe I’ll go have a chat with her. See if she’s in the mood for some quality dick. If it turns out she’s a white trash freak, I’ll pass her your way.”
Growing up, Keith’s family had been one of the shittiest in town. That wasn’t a secret to anyone who’d lived there for more than a few years. But he had worked his ass off to not only lift his siblings out of the poverty in which they grew up but to change the town’s perception of the Benson name. For the most part, it’d worked. While none of them would ever own private jets or vacation in penthouses of five-star resorts, they were comfortable enough to enjoy their lives and even indulge in the occasional splurge.
But memories ran deep, and with his father still alive and causing frequent disturbances in town, the Benson name still carried the stigma of junkie, white trash, and loser in some circles.
Chuck made a low-pitched obscene sound. “Bet she takes my monster cock like a fucking pro—”
Okay, fuck it. Just as Keith was about to let his baser instincts take over and grab Chuck by the neck, shaking until his face turned blue and he passed out, Chuck’s phone chimed. Keith still refused to turn and give the man any more of his attention than he’d already received.
“Dammit,” Chuck cursed, then he stepped out of line. He jammed the phone to his ear and strode out of the shop, barking at whatever poor schmuck was on the other end.