“Nah, Barry’s first game is tonight as assistant coach. I’m going to watch. You want to go?”
His cousin, right. I forgot he said he was coach at the high school now. I think about his offer and my mind drifts to the second stack of paperwork I was given this week in regards to the liquor license. “Not tonight. I have a ton of paperwork to get through so I can submit it Monday. I don’t want to take the chance of the club not opening on time.”
“All right, man. If you change your mind, hit me up.” He stands. “See you later, boss man.” His laughter carries him out the door.
Reaching for my laptop bag, I pull out the stack of papers. I’m going to need some caffeine for this. Grabbing my keys, I head a few doors down to the coffee shop for my afternoon dose.
It’s a warm sunny day in September, the rain from earlier in the week long forgotten. Inside the coffee shop there is no line. Perfect. I’ll get my tall black and head back to the club. I have a feeling that packet is going to take me a while to get through.
Walking up to the counter, my eyes immediately spot what appears to be a very fine ass high in the air. The owner is bent over grabbing more supplies. I should alert her to my presence, but I don’t want to. I’d rather enjoy the show. She shimmies a little and I have to bite down on my lip to keep my laughter from bubbling over. When she finally pops up, she turns toward the counter and drops the box of spoons when she sees me.
“Nice moves,” I can’t help but say.
Her face pales and she pulls the single earbud out of her ear. I watch as it drops over her shoulder. That explains where the shimmy came from.
“You’re back,” she says her face turning red.
I think back to Monday and how she was blatantly checking me out. I guess I returned the favor today, but I just didn’t get busted. Not that she seemed to mind. “That I am,” I say, taking her in. She has long red hair like the color of autumn leaves, soft curls falling down her back. Her apron hides her figure, but when she was bent over I got an eyeful. She’s rocking a tight little body.
“What can I get you?”
You. “Coffee, black, biggest cup you have.”
“Your usual,” she says, grabbing a cup and turning to fill it.
So she remembers my order. Interesting.
I take her in, head to toe. Those tight black pants that make her ass look fucking edible. I can’t seem to pull my eyes from her—don’t want to, really—which is why it’s me who is now busted. Like her, I’m not the least bit embarrassed to have been caught. I give her what I’m told is my panty-melting grin and hold out a twenty. She slides my coffee carefully across the counter and reaches for the money. I make her work for it, not easily letting go. Her fingers brush mine and my cock twitches. The huge packet of paperwork waiting on me has me groaning internally. Once the club is up and running I can think with my cock; right now, it’s the head on my shoulders that needs to remain in charge.
I scan her chest for a nametag and come up empty. However, I do get a feel from the outline or her apron that she is more than a handful.
Damn paperwork!
She reaches out to hand me the change and my eyes lock with hers. “Keep the change. . . .” I let my words hang in the air, waiting for her to take the bait and give me her name.
“Berklee,” she says, never breaking eye contact.
Berklee. I let her name roll around in my head. It’s hot as fuck. “Berklee.” I caress her name with my tongue, I had to see how it sounded. “Keep the change.” Reaching out, I fold her fingers around the money if for no other reason than to touch her. I’m just torturing myself, but her skin is so damn soft. It’s worth it. “See you around, Berklee.” I grab my cup and turn to leave. If I don’t go right now, I won’t. She’s too damn tempting, that one.
I make my way back to the club and settle in for the long haul. I have to keep my eye on the goal: opening before Halloween. Then maybe, just maybe, if the sexy little Berklee is still there we can get to know each other better, or at least intimately.
The grin never leaves my face as I bury my nose in paperwork for the night.
OF COURSE HE would have to stop in at the end of the day. He could not have been there earlier and given me the day to fantasize and get it out of my system. Now I’m going to be distracted tonight.
I need to snap out of it. I had given up hope that he would ever step foot through those doors again. I had myself convinced that he was just in the area, and that was that.
As I drive home, I’m caught up in him and those dark chocolate eyes, and the ink. I want to strip him of his shirt and see just how far up his arm those tattoos go. Nothing wrong with a little fantasy to keep a girl . . . motivated. Yes, we’ll go with motivated. It’s not far off since his face is what’s single-handedly had me reaching for my vibrator every night this week.
The condo is quiet when I arrive home. I can hear the shower running in between Maggie’s and my room. We share, with connecting doors. Barry has his own, and we have a half bath for guests. Quietly, I shut and lock my door. I make sure the bathroom door is locked from my side and tap the screen of my phone to pull up some music. Carefully, as if someone might be watching, I slide open the nightstand drawer and reach for B.O.B. Settling on the bed with the lowest setting, I let myself get lost in the image of Mr. Super Sexy Beard. I didn’t have enough wits about me to ask his name in return today. No, instead I just stared, memorized his features, which brings me to now. It doesn’t take long, like I knew it wouldn’t.
As soon as I drop B.O.B back in the nightstand, Maggie knocks on my bedroom door.
“Berklee, shower’s free,” she says.
“Thanks,” I call back, trying like hell not to sound like I just got off. Then I would have to explain what got me in this mess at five thirty in the evening. Maggie and I tell each other everything, but our families will be with us tonight, and well, she and I don’t really have much of a filter. I want this fantasy—because let’s face it, that’s what it is—to be all mine.
Needing a shower, I rush through, soaping up all the important parts and then quickly washing my hair. I’m lucky to have natural waves so some mousse and a diffuser for about ten to fifteen minutes and I’m good to go. I’m pretty low maintenance. Besides, it’s a high school football game; who there do I need to impress?
“Ready,” I say, walking into the kitchen. Maggie is sitting at the small island eating.
“Made you a plate.” She points beside her to a plate of spaghetti and garlic bread.
I take a seat and dive in, suddenly famished. I grin, thinking of how I worked up an appetite.
“What’s got you grinning like the cat that ate the damn canary?” she asks.
“Nothing really. Just had a good day, I guess.”