Slowly, the drawing comes into shape. The flowers and vines curling around each other.
Dahlia makes a noise in her sleep through the monitor and I freeze, glancing over to see if she’s going to wake up. She gives a wiggle of her nose, but her eyes stay closed.
Stifling a yawn, I set the sketchpad aside and get comfy beneath the covers. I think I only stare at the TV for five minutes before I’m fast asleep.
“She woke me up four times last night.” I pass off the baby to an eager Astrid who takes her excitedly, along with the diaper bag. “I have to run and get coffee before I keel over.”
“Make sure you get a muffin too,” she warns, twirling in a circle to make Dahlia giggle. “I have a feeling you didn’t eat breakfast and you’re a monster when you’re hungry.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, digging my wallet out of my bag.
“See,” she says in her baby voice to Dahlia, “mommy is mean when she’s hungry.”
“I hope she throws up on you.”
“My princess would never,” she calls after me as I leave through the front door.
Striding down the street, I walk into the local coffee shop that’s a town favorite. Having Griffin’s within walking distance of my shop has been a godsend on days like today when I need an IV full of caffeine.
While waiting in line I start digging through my bag for my wallet so I’ll be ready to pay when it’s my turn and things can keep moving.
“I’ve got this, babe.”
Disgust crawls up my spine as I cease plundering through my purse and turn to find Travis standing beside me in line. His dyed black hair is pushed away from his face and he’s dressed head to toe in the dark color as well. His neck tattoos seem to glow from the lighting in the shop but I know that’s not true. It’s just me who’s helpless to take my eyes off the ink.
“Got what?” I bite out.
“Our order.”
I don’t miss his use of the word our like we planned to meet here or that we’re something other than acquaintances.
“I can get my own.”
“I’m perfectly aware of your capabilities of ordering and paying by yourself, I like that about you, but today it’s on me.”
I narrow my eyes at him. He looks right back, his blue-gray eyes threatening to make me feel guilty. Not over the coffee, but the baby only a few stores down who he doesn’t even know about.
I tried to tell him, I remind myself. For months I contacted him and heard nothing. I didn’t keep her a secret on purpose, but now … I don’t know how to tell him and what’s to say he won’t leave town in a blink again? I won’t let Dahlia deal with an absentee father. I can be all she needs.
“Why?” My tone is suspicious because when it comes to Travis, I’ve learned that he always seems to have some ulterior motive.
“No reason.” His smirk tells me those two little words are complete bullshit.
“What do you want?”
“Sit with me and have breakfast.”
“No, I have to get back to work. We’re opening in twenty minutes.”
And I have our child to check on.
“Give me fifteen then.”
“I don’t understand you.” We move forward in line and if I wasn’t so desperate for coffee and food—because Astrid’s right, I need to eat—then I would turn tail and leave so I didn’t have to deal with him.
“I don’t understand you either and it’s one of the things I like most about you.”
“You’re not allowed to do that,” I snap, my words holding more bite than I intend.
“Do what?” He arches a brow. “Compliment you?”
“Exactly.”
There’s only one person left in front of us to order.
“Why not?”
I squirm. “You’re just … not.”
Turning, I look in the opposite direction at the bustling café so he can’t see the hurt on my face. Travis is nothing. He means nothing. So why can’t my heart get the memo? Sure, we had a flirtation despite our non-stop bickering, and the one night we shared together might’ve been the best sex I ever had, but it all means zilch now. He left. Life moved on.
When I finally grow brave enough to look back in his direction of course he’s staring at me with an amused smirk. What a jerk face.
The lady in front of us moves over to wait for her order, which means it’s my turn to give mine. Travis swings his hand dramatically for me to step forward and I glare at him and have to use all my self-control to not roll my eyes.
“Hi, Emory,” I flash a smile at Griffin’s grandson, “I’ll take the vanilla iced latte and one of the lemon blueberry muffins.”
“Anything else?”
Travis bumps my hip with his, effectively shoving me out of the way. His long slender tattooed fingers are already plucking his credit card from his wallet. “Yeah, I’m going to have a cold brew with coconut milk and one of the chocolate croissants.”
Emory rings everything up, oblivious to the daggers I’m glaring at Travis.
Taking his receipt, Travis places a gentle hand on my spine, guiding me to a table.
“I’m not eating breakfast with you.” And your hand definitely doesn’t feel pleasant at all.
“We’re not eating breakfast.”
“What do you call this then?” I reluctantly pull out a chair at the table he picks and plop in the seat with a disgruntled breath.
“Coffee and a snack.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean forward. “I don’t understand what you think you’re going to accomplish?” His eyes drop to my breasts, which have grown annoyingly larger since I got pregnant. “Stop looking at my boobs.”
He clears his throat. “Sorry.” His apology is slightly sheepish and at least feels genuine. “I can’t help it. You have nice tits.”
“Travis,” I bite out.
“I’m a guy.” He gives a shrug like this is all the explanation I need which I guess it is. Our order is called out and he narrows his eyes on me. “I’m going to grab that. Don’t leave.”
“I won’t. Only because I want my coffee,” I gripe.
His lips twitch as he fights not to smile. Sliding from the table he rises to his full height and I have to bite my lip to hold back a sigh. He might irritate me to no end, but there’s no denying he’s one of the sexiest men I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Returning with our order he passes me my muffin and iced coffee. I narrow my eyes with suspicion since he’s stolen my order in the past.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He takes a bite of the end of his croissant, chewing carefully like he’s afraid I might make him choke on it or something equally nefarious.
“Because I don’t trust you.”
He winces, pressing a hand to his firm chest. “You wound me, Alba.”
“I’m sure you’re bleeding out and dying on the inside.”
He grins. “You have no idea.”
“Start talking. You have less than five minutes until I eat this whole muffin and then I’m gone.”
“Can’t we catch up like old friends?”