My glasses get pushed back on top of my head. I freeze. A body I’d have to be dead not to recognize stands a few feet ahead of me, leaning against the small counter as she waits for her order.
Her perky arse sways as she moves her hips to the beat of the song playing softly overhead.
I move closer, smiling. “Brooke.”
Her head whips around, then the rest of her turns to face me.
My eyes rake over her tiny form.
She’s in jeans again, tight on her hips and legs. Her red shirt dips low in the front to reveal a generous amount of cleavage. And on her feet, runners, an old pair of Nike’s.
Her hair is up, pulled back into a dark, messy knot, with a few pieces framing her face.
She raises an eyebrow. She looks agitated. “What are you doing here? Did you follow me?”
I almost laugh at her suggestion, but decide against it when she shows no sign of her question being a joke.
“What? No, I like coffee. I’m here for coffee. This was purely a coincidence.” I take a step toward her. “You left last night. I wanted to talk to you.”
“Talk,” she laughs. “There’s that word again. Did you have fun talking after I left?”
My brow furrows. “Uh . . . to who?”
She eliminates the space between us. Her hand flattens against my chest as she stands on her toes to get as close to my ear as possible. I inhale her perfume. Some sort of berry scent. It’s light and sweet.
“Did you finish getting off after I was gone?” she whispers.
My hands form to her hips. I drop my head, brushing my lips against her hair. “Yeah. I had to.”
“Mm. So did I. You were amazing in my head. I came all over my fingers.”
“Fuck,” I groan. Not meaning to, my fingers squeeze her hips, hard enough to possibly bruise her. I move my hands to her back.
God, she feels good against me.
“Me too. I . . .” My words trail off.
Am I really doing this? Am I about to confess to this woman how hard I came last night in the middle of a fucking coffee shop?”
She leans back to look up at me. “It’s a shame we couldn’t have handled that shit together. A damn shame.” She slaps her hand against my chest and spins back around, leaving me reeling.
I grab her elbow. I’m not done with this conversation. “Hey.”
“What?” Her voice sounds distant. She barely turns her head to acknowledge me.
The bloke behind the counter carries over four coffees before I can get her attention again.
“Here you go, Brooke. Sorry about the wait.”
She steps forward. I move quickly to grab the carrier, being sure not to completely shove her out of the way in the process. Only the side of my arm bumps against hers.
“I got these. Did you pay?” I ask, reaching blindly with my other hand for my wallet.
“What?” Eyebrows pinched together in confusion, she tries to grab the carrier. Her height difference from mine doesn’t allow for it. She really is tiny without those heels.
With an exasperated huff, she jumps with her hand in the air. “Yes, I paid. And can you give me that please, you big tree?”
“I said I got it. Come on.”
“Come on? I thought you were getting coffee.”
I shrug, looking down at her. “I’ll come back.”
Her hand slaps against her thigh. With a shake of her head, she moves toward the door. “Fine. But there’s a crack in the sidewalk and I’m not going to tell you where it is. If you fall, that’s on you.”
I stifle my laugh, following behind. “Fair enough.”
We walk side by side on the busy footpath. People move in a blur around us. Brooke keeps her arms tightly crossed against her chest and her gaze locked ahead of her. Mine wanders between the path ahead and her profile.
“How tall are you?” I ask, breaking up the silence after only standing it for a whole ten seconds.
She looks over at me. “I don’t know. 5’2”, I think. Why?”
“Just curious. You threw me off with your shoes the other day, when we first met.”
“Mm.” She turns her head.
My mouth curls up in the corner. “You were right about blue balls. Bloody awful, that was. I thought I was dying.”