I looked up at the retreating figure. “I wish it was you, not him.”
He gave no reaction to my words, and really, I hadn’t expected any. It just came out. And I did hate that Deck was here instead of Connor. I hated that he could walk back to his family and laugh and hold them and my brother couldn’t.
He turned his head and met my eyes. For a second, I thought I witnessed remorse, but it was so quick I could’ve imagined it or maybe I hoped to see it from my brother’s best friend.
“Yeah.” His whispered tone was barely audible as the door shut, and I listened to his steady, booted steps walk away.
The front door opened, and the screen door screeched. Both shut.
I had no idea why I did it, but I walked over to the window, parted the white sheer curtains and watched as he walked down the path. The tension in his back. The stiffness of his stride.
He stopped at the side of the car and stood still for a second. I couldn’t see his face or what he was doing until he slammed both fists into the roof of the car. Then his head dropped forward and his shoulders slouched.
My fingers curled around the delicate material of the curtains, and I didn’t realize how hard until they ripped from the rod and fell to the floor, leaving the window bare.
As if he’d heard it—but I knew that was impossible—Deck turned. Our eyes locked. It felt like he could see right into me with that direct gaze. I felt naked and vulnerable, unable to look away, trapped. He gave me these wounds. Wounds that would never heal. Deck was now part of the darkness inside me I’d never escape from.
His nod was barely distinguishable before he broke the connection and opened the car door.
I watched his lean form curl into the driver’s seat.
The engine came to life with a loud purr.
Life. Something Connor had lost.
I turned away just as I heard the squeal of the tires on the street.
My perfect world had just been thrown into destructive chaos.
“RYLIE, LOOK! ULTIMATE cupcake of the day is here.”
Rylie snorted and looked over her shoulder at the guy unfolding from the blue Lexus. “Georgie, your ultimate is Deck Ryan and that is definitely not him. Secondly, Tristan is an arrogant arse with nothing going for him but a chiseled body and money. Total meatloaf.” She pressed the button on the cappuccino maker and it hissed as the air spurted out and foamed the milk.
The bell on the door clanged.
I ran my tongue along my upper lip and walked to the cash register then placed my hands on the counter and leaned forward so my breasts were accentuated. They weren’t anything special, but they were mine and I knew how to use them when needed.
Tristan was wearing his usual expensive business suit that clung to his striking form like bees to honey. When he started coming in a few weeks ago, he had a stick up his ass. Barely looked at me and sure as shit didn’t take to my flirting. That was an issue because I needed him to look at me whether I wanted him to or not.
I toyed with all the hotties to keep up appearances, but this guy was … special. I had to get his attention and a week ago, I got it. Now he flirted with me, and I suspected soon I’d have his number and a date.
Tristan strode toward me: tall, lean and with confidence written all over him. His looks matched his overbearing personality, short black hair, matching dark brows and a square jaw. Definite eye-candy except for the fact his intensity would scare the shit out of most women. Luckily, I wasn’t most women.
“Tristan, you’re looking make-out worthy, as usual.” I lowered my voice so it sounded kind of husky and just loud enough for him to hear. “If only I could be your coffee cup.”
He definitely caught what I said because his brows raised a minute amount and the corner of his mouth twitched. A blue streak of my hair fell forward over my shoulder and he reached out and lifted it, caressing the long, fine hairs between his fingers.
“Blue?”
Yesterday, I had pink streaks, but blue was Tristan’s favorite color according to his choice in car and the dress shirts he always wore. I really didn’t give a shit what color my hair was, except I’d never do orange. Didn’t liked the color and besides, it would clash with my green eyes.
I winked. “Was feeling a little blue last night.” Actually, that wasn’t a lie. My friends Emily and Kat were out of town, and our usual Sunday brunch at my place was put on hold. And Deck … yeah, he was on some dangerous mission overseas which I hated. My life was supposed to be easier with him gone—and it was without him watching over me—and yet, it wasn’t because I worried about him. I missed him constantly, but when he was here, it was … painful.
I glanced over my shoulder at Rylie. “Tristan’s usual, babe.”
“My girl can’t be blue.” My girl? That was new. He could call me whatever the hell he wanted as long as I got what I needed. “I may have to do something about that.” My hair slipped from his grasp as he reached into his pocket, pulled out a five and slid it toward me. “Dinner?”
Finally. Progress. I put my hand on my hip and smiled. “You’re smokin’ hot, but dating you is against the rules of the establishment.” Tristan was a challenge, and therefore he’d like a challenge. Kissing his feet, so to speak, just wouldn’t hack it with this guy.
“Isn’t this your coffee shop?”
How did he know that? I didn’t have it posted anywhere and had never mentioned it. I was betting he had some poor sap with ankle-length dress pants sitting at a crappy desk in an office with no windows researching chicks Tristan wanted to fuck. “My place, my rules. Dating clients is at the top of the list of ‘fuck no’.”