He laughed and it was a rumbling sound which, if I was interested, would’ve done something for me. I wasn’t. At least, not in any sexual capacity. “Clients? It’s a coffee shop.”
Asshole. A coffee shop was a business and mine was damn successful. I slid my hand across the counter and took his five, making certain my finger brushed against his. Then I hit the cash button and the drawer bounced open with a loud ding. “And I take pride in my work place. Besides, if you sucked in bed, I’d have to ask you not to come here again. You know … reminders and really awkward.”
He placed his palms on the counter and his playful smile disappeared. “I do suck in bed, Georgie.” His voice lowered as he leaned closer. “I suck until you scream and beg.”
I bit my lower lip, the five-dollar bill still in my grasp now crumpled in a ball, and despite not wanting him, that was friggin’ hot.
“That won’t be happening.”
I yelped at the deep, familiar voice behind Tristan and my heart took off at break-neck speed. My body became a fucked-up concoction of relief that he was back safe, sexual heat and nerves sparking. Deck being near me was a love-hate thing. Jesus, my life was a fireball rolling down a really dangerous path.
Rylie giggled as she slid Tristan’s espresso across the counter then pinched my butt. I shot my gaze to her and glared; she smiled, her pearl-white teeth gleaming. She was laughing her ass off at me: One for yelping like a girlie-girl and two for being caught unaware by Deck. I hated that, but Deck could sneak up on a friggin’ mouse. “You could’ve warned me,” I mumbled to her.
She shrugged. “Could’ve, but that’s no fun.”
“Bitch.”
She laughed then hesitantly smiled at Deck. “Hey, Deck.”
Although his eyes remained on me, he nodded to Rylie. And when Deck looked at me, it was like he was touching my entire body with his hands—penetrating. Shit, that word and Deck so had to stay clear of one another.
I pushed the ball of money into the till, grabbed a coin then shut the cash drawer with my hip. I passed the change to Tristan who was now half-turned and looking at Deck.
Deck was about an inch taller than Tristan and more muscular, yet still lean and agile-looking. He had tatts running down both arms and a tribal design crawling up the side of his neck. His black t-shirt fit snug to the hills and valleys of his muscles, and I knew underneath that shirt was a plethora of hard abs. I had, after all, woken up in his bed after he’d hauled me out of some bar or party. Of course, Deck always crashed on the couch, but I’d seen him with his shirt off a number of times. Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t because it certainly didn’t make my life any easier.
Deck had that intimidating factor. Confident. Unyielding. And the guy hid his emotions like they were in a vault. Not knowing how to read him made him unpredictable like he was right now. He could either let Tristan walk away, or he’d make Tristan walk away and I’d lose a client and the date I needed.
“Sweetpea, you’re back.” Just looking at Deck made me want to kiss him. It took everything in me to just stand there and not leap over the counter and jump into his arms. In all the years we’d known one another, I’d never felt his lips on me. I never would, either. I knew that. I’d been told that. I’d been warned to keep it that way.
Deck had no interest in me anyway. I was a pain in his ass. If he only knew how much of a threat I was to him.
Tristan frowned and his eyes flashed with annoyance. “Boyfriend?”
I laughed. “Nope. Master.” Tristan’s brows rose and Deck’s lowered even further. “Kidding.” Well, sort of. “Badass is a friend—of sorts. You know, the kind of friend you can’t get rid of. Kick him in the ass and he just keeps coming back like a lost puppy dog.” But Deck was no puppy dog. More like a fire-breathing dragon.
Tristan pocketed his coin then curled his hand around his espresso, lifted it and took a sip like he always did. It was as if he wanted to be certain we hadn’t fucked up his order which we never did unless it was on purpose. “Interesting analogy,” he drawled. “Not sure it fits.” Yeah, it was more like Deck was the bull and I was the red cape. Tristan nodded to me. “Like the blue. My number’s on the five dollar bill.”
And success.
A week ago, I’d messed up his espresso and loaded five tablespoons of sugar in it and half milk. That sip he always took ended up in my face in a spray of hot liquid. It was the first time he’d ever really looked at me; the guy always had his eyes on his phone. I had winked at him and the annoyance in his expression disappeared and was replaced by a scowl. I had calmly wiped the coffee from my face with a napkin then reached across and dabbed the corners of his mouth. I passed him his real espresso and said, “You have sexy-as-hell eyes. Might want to use them every now and then.” At first, he just watched me intensely for a few seconds as if assessing me. I didn’t flinch or waver, merely stared back at him with a half-cocked smile. I think he liked that because slowly, a grin formed and then he chuckled.
Now, he came in every day and made eye contact and conversation.
I glanced up at Deck who didn’t look at all perturbed by Tristan’s invitation. Typical. I lowered my voice but knew Deck could still hear me. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t do relationships. One-nighters only.”
Tristan burst out laughing. “I can do that. Call me.” And then he nodded to Deck and headed for the door. I was impressed; Tristan wasn’t at all threatened by him.