“Coffee?” I announce.
“Americano, black.” Titus doesn’t look up from his work.
Phoenix brushes his upper lip with the back of his hand. “Drip with a splash of milk.”
“Triple shot latte.” Bone says, his client wincing as his machine digs into their ribs.
“Off we go,” Ronnie says. I follow her into the summer air, a Saturday with the same coloring as one from your childhood, warm and wide open. We hit the café two doors down. It’s a New York City chain that just went national called Grind’r. Cozy enough, I guess. Although the prices are steep.
Ronnie places the order from memory, adding on an iced coffee for herself. She turns to me, her eyes so bright and sparkly it nearly makes my head spin. “Make it two,” I say, and the barista walks away.
Ronnie leans onto the counter, causing her breasts to spill out from the top of her tank. I try and pull my eyes away, but she’s damn near perfect. I wonder if they feel as soft as they look. She catches me staring, and I clear my throat.
“Ronnie, I wanted to say.”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you handle the situation last night.”
“You should be. I didn’t ask for your help.”
“Those assholes pissed me off the way they treated you.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Coming in there, acting like you owe them something.”
“Again, it’s a common occurrence.”
Before I can stop myself, I gently grab her arm. Her breath catches in her throat. Eyes widening like a full moon lunar eclipse—a perfect combination of darkness intersecting light. “Not anymore it isn’t. No one will ever touch you as long as I’m around.”
The tension grinds between us and I realize I’m waiting for her response. “You’re touching me right now.” Her eyes flick to my fingertips, still grazing her soft forearm. I release my grip.
“Fine, no one but me.” I say through gritted teeth.
“And what makes you so sure that I want you to touch me, King?” Her voice is soft, challenging.
I take a step closer, testing her boundaries. “You don’t want me to touch you?”
My fingertips rest against the curve of her hip. She inhales through her nose when I take one step closer. Inches apart, if I leaned down right now her lips would be pressed against mine. Her eyes dance across my face. I’m so close, even over the indie rock from the overhead speakers, I can hear her swallow.
“Look.” She presses both hands against my chest and leans away from me. “I’m sure you’re a fun lay, and God knows your body is probably perfect underneath those clothes.” She undresses me with her eyes and I spring to life. “But let’s get something straight. I’m allergic to ex-cons.” She faces the counter, taking the pent up sexual energy with her. “So the answer is a resounding, no thank you.”
“Sounds like you’re being a little judgmental.”
“No, King. I know first hand from experience.”
“What, you dated a small time crook? He was a jerk? He stole your purse? I’m not like that.”
Her head flips back in my direction, eyes narrowed. “I know what you’re like. I’ve read your story. I know exactly what you went to jail for.”
“So, you get it. I’m not a bad guy. I just got caught up in a bad situation.”
“Oh, I get it alright.” She leans in close. Her lips brush my ear when she speaks, sending a wave of heat into my stomach. “But my Daddy is Clyde Hawley. Heard of him?”
“I have.”
“So, there’s no way I’m getting involved with anyone remotely like him.”
I’m about to tell her that I’m not. First degree murder and attempted murder are two very different things. But I don’t have a chance, the coffees arrive, and Ronnie swipes up the tray without giving me a second glance. Even with the shock of hearing that her father is a convicted murderer, I can’t help but watch her amazing ass as she heads out the café door.
4 Ronnie
I understand that almost killing one person in the heat of passion isn’t the same thing as what my daddy did, but I needed an out. King’s advance sent my body into overdrive. I left the café dripping wet from his forceful, yet gentle touch. Dammit if I hadn’t made a deal with myself long ago that anyone on the wrong side of the law was off the table, I’d be half-naked in his bed right now, his wet tongue leaving hot trails all over my body as he tastes every inch.
My center clenches once more as I set the coffee tray down at the front counter. Maybe it was naive of me to think that working with reformed convicts would be safe. My type has always been men who need saving. The problem now, is that King seems like he’s on a good path.
But what if he isn’t? I can’t be like my mama, who died waiting for daddy to get out of prison. Nope, no sir. I will not let that happen.
We both work in silence for the rest of the day. Dozens of appointments cycle in and out of the shop. I keep my head down and do my work, occasionally glancing at King’s strong arms as he presses the tattoo machine into his client’s flesh, carving out his signature artwork. A stray hair falls out of place, brushing against his temple. If he’s that intense with his work, I can only imagine what he’s like in the sack.
Stop. Ronnie. Stop.
At the end of the day, King’s client is the last of the day. As always, I stay until the last person’s paid. And once they leave, King and I are left alone in the shop. A thick fog of tension swirls between us as I shut down the computer and he tidies his station. I grab my purse and keys, about to head to the door when King finally speaks.
“I was going to grab a slice of pizza.” It’s not what I expected.
“Good for you?”
“Thank you.” He rolls his eyes, crossing his massive arms across his broad chest. “And if you’ll cut the sarcasm routine for five seconds, I’d like for you to join me.”
“Like a date?” I can’t stop the words. The tension leaves his shoulders. “Like an eighth grade date?” I can’t help but giggle.
“You dated in eighth grade?”
“You didn’t?”
He steps toward me and my knees weaken. His scent, clean and musky, overpowers the lingering aroma of rubbing alcohol permeating the shop. “Just answer my question.”
“Yes, I went on one date in eighth grade. His name was Bobby Bowery, and—“
His strong hand reaches for my shoulder. “I meant about the pizza.”
“You can’t take no for an answer can you?” His gold and green eyes search mine, open and vulnerable. My body melts. Something about the way he’s looking at me makes me want to trust him, tearing down the walls I’ve worked so hard to build up all of these years. But is it worth the risk? It is, after all, only pizza.
I sigh. “Fine, but only one piece.” He holds his hand out and I walk in front of him. “But you’re paying.” I flash him a look over my shoulder and catch him staring straight at my ass. It heats me up on impact, and I’m soaking wet once more. Damn him.