His hand darted out to circle my wrist. His gray eyes went dark in reaction. “I feel your pulse skittering. You feel this thing between us too.”
“Could just be fear.”
“Not of me. I’m harmless, unlike my triplet brothers. They’re hell on earth.” He pulled on the lapel of his sweater. “Would a serial killer wear a cardigan?”
Probably not and no one should look so good in that stupid brown sweater, but he did. “Maybe a smart one would. You seem like a smart guy. Maybe too smart for your own good.”
“That’s what my mom tells me.” His long lashes swept down as he focused on my mouth again. “And I will say I’m smart enough not to let you get away again.” Then his gaze crashed into mine once more. “Not without examining just what’s between us.”
“You’re not from Crescent Cove or you’d be running for the hills, buddy. There’s no dating in the Cove. There’s only forever and so many babies you could rename us Bunny Cove.”
There. That should send him running. Most men who were smart and under thirty-ish escaped while they still could.
I couldn’t quite tell his age. There were lovely crinkles at the corners of his eyes, but that could just mean he liked to be outside.
Dammit, I needed to stop staring at him.
He swallowed tightly, and the flare of fear that he’d vanish just like I thought was quickly banked.
Or maybe I was afraid he’d stay. I couldn’t decide which one was scarier.
He slid his fingers down my hand to tangle with my fingers. “That just makes me want to hear more.”
“No, you don’t. You want to turn right around and head back to wherever you come from.”
“Wrong.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m actually trapped here until my car is done.”
“I—”
“Yo, Vanilla, I’m pretty sure my schedule still has your name on it.”
My shoulders rose to my ears at Macy Gideon’s shout. She was my boss for a little while longer. However, she’d used my order nickname so I wasn’t in real trouble.
I shook him free and pointed at him. “If you leave with my notebook, I’ll find you and chop off those dirty fingers.”
He laughed and looked down at his hand. “Sorry, I was sketching in the park.”
Of course he was an artist. If there was a guy who was ill-equipped to be an adult, I was going to be attracted to him. Not this time. I was going to be strong and not fall for someone who had no future stamped on his forehead.
I turned to head into the back of the café where a line of people were waiting to be served. I hurried to the cash register and quickly tapped in my login, and then grabbed an apron from the drawer and tugged it over my head.
“Where do you need me?”
Macy’s short hair was in frazzled spikes, telling me it had been a day already. She had three espresso pods brewing in the big purple beast that dominated the side counter. “Need a new batch of coffee in the carafes.”
“Got it.” I turned to the long counter and pulled off the magnetic timers and reset them for another three hours. Habit and auto pilot took over, even while Callum’s intrusive personality vied for space in my too busy brain. I hooked the long handles over my arm and gathered all four thermoses up and then headed to the kitchen to use the industrial-sized brewer.
I’d been working at the café since Macy opened it a few years ago. She paid well, and I could always pick up a shift when I wanted extra cash. Now she had a much larger staff, but I was one of the originals, so I always got first pick of the bonus shifts. I was also the one everyone called because I could never say no to adding more money to my savings account.
But all that was going to change.
My cosmetology certificate was finally going to let me move on the plans I’d been making for the last four years. My bulging notebook and Pinterest board would finally have an outlet. I didn’t have to only be the girl who washed hair and swept up clippings just to soak up real life experience at To Dye For, the new salon that had opened this year. I officially had my own booth rental as of Monday.
I would be hanging up my apron Monday after the morning shift and trading it for a smock—a really cute black one with pink Christmas trees on it—and a closetful of clothes I’d slowly been gathering to show off my true style. Not the jeans and array of café and pizza T-shirts that I wore most of the time.
The real me.
Would he be interested in that girl?
Ugh. No. I wasn’t interested in starting some fling with Mr. Charming.
I touched my lips. They still buzzed at the thought of him. Life was changing for the better, and there was no room for a hot artist with clever lips in my current plans.
Even if I almost wished there was.
Chapter Four
ELLIE
Six hours later, my artist shadow had moved from the main café to the the well-worn leather couch in the reading nook. He’d been busily scratching in his sketchbook, his gaze tracking my movements off and on. Just enough off that I didn’t call Sheriff Brooks. Stalking wasn’t sexy.
Callum, however, didn’t give off that creepy vibe. He was just intense.
Along with being charming, he could make small talk with anyone and everyone. It was an enviable trait, but it still pissed me off. Especially since every female seemed to fall under his spell.
Including Mrs. Gunderson who could talk a body into the ground and then shovel after them to talk some more. But he didn’t look bothered in the least.
I shot a glance over my shoulder at the chirpy laugh that came out of the older woman. Dear God, was she flirting with him?
Callum caught me looking and gave me a half smile that made every blood cell in my system go into overdrive before he refocused that obscene attention on Judy. There was no annoyance in his eyes, just a quiet friendliness that seemed to draw everyone into his sphere.
A few murmurs of gossip had fluttered through the air the first hour. That he was trouble and had been sketching in the park—what kind of man was he?
By the end of the lunch rush, he had a line of people waiting for portraits.
He didn’t charge, so Macy didn’t give him any trouble as long as he kept buying food and drinks. I’d also spotted him stuffing twenties into the tip jar at the register every time he got a coffee or tea. Was he trying to buy me off?
What kind of woman did he think I was?
Annoyed, I marched over to pick up the dishes scattered around him. A cookie plate with a few crumbs was stacked on his panini plate, and there was now a collection of mugs. I went around the back of the couch he’d made his mini office and literally couldn’t go another step.
On his pad was a perfect rendering of the book nook area, including the haphazard mix of Halloween and Christmas that was Macy’s aesthetic. From the perspective to the tiny details it was like a photograph, only far more clever. He’d added a few faces on the pink pumpkins stacked everywhere. Some were sweet, some reminded me of The Nightmare Before Christmas, and still others had a flair that was completely his own.
In the center of the portrait was Macy’s step-daughter, Dani, who was in her usual spot doing homework. Instead of her face in a book, he’d created a rendering of her climbing the bookcase in the midst of decorating the top shelf. She had a sweetly mischievous look on her face and a lock of hair falling forward from her sharp pixie cut that matched Macy’s.