“Hey,” he drawls, giving me a slow once-over. “You look pretty in scrubs.” Reaching out he tucks a stray hair that escaped my bun behind my ear, lingering a second longer than appropriate.
I shake my head, catching my bottom lip between my teeth. I can’t seem to pull my eyes away from his and it appears he’s having the same issue I am. “I’m working a twelve-hour shift today.”
This is my fourth shift in as many days and that’s because I picked up two extra shifts. I need to keep my mind and body busy, and work does that for me. Because when I’m not working, I’m thinking about that letter that will arrive on my doorstep any day now. And the money I’m still scheduled to inherit.
So far, everything about the will and the trust seems legit. It should be a relief, but nothing related to Harrison is. I’ve been paranoid since the call that Mr. Bishop will show up himself. That he’ll hand deliver the letter or come after me for what he thinks I did to make his son go off the deep end. It doesn’t help that the anniversary of that night is just a few short days away.
“Then I guess I won’t be able to talk you into spending the day with me,” he says.
“Nope. What’s your excuse?”
“Huh?” A bemused chuckle passes his lips.
“I know why these guys are out so early.” I jut my thumb in the direction of the packed coffeehouse and the symphony of keyboard clicks. “It’s barely dawn, and it seems you’ve already gone for a run.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“More work stuff?”
“Something like that.”
“Sorry.”
“Seeing you makes up for it. Can I buy you breakfast before you have to head in?”
“I’m already running late. I just came in to grab a coffee.”
“A muffin then?”
I smirk at his persistence and the hopeful gleam in his eyes. “It depends on what kind you’re buying?”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Blueberry. It’s like a cupcake without any frosting. I pretend they’re healthy because they have blueberries in them.”
He grins and it makes his blue eyes light up. “Like how you eat eggplant subs because it’s technically a vegetable.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay. I’ll take three of blueberry, morning glory, corn—which I forgot in Boston you call kan—lemon poppyseed, chocolate chip, and then any kind of croissants you have.”
I laugh as he gives his massive order, gesturing to the display of baked goods and pointing out specific things as he goes. “Who are you buying all of that for?”
“The people you work with,” he says like I should have known. “You’re all saving lives. The least I can do is feed you.”
The barista openly swoons and I’m not far off.
“Add on two coffees please.” And then he proceeds to order exactly what I like from memory. Damn him.
“You’re feeding the nurses.”
He gives me a quick side-eye, fighting his grin. “That a problem?”
“We’re like stray cats,” I warn him. “Once you feed us, you can never get rid of us.”
A glimmer of mischief sparks his features, his hand coming out and resting on my lower back, tugging me in just a bit closer. He smells like sweat and his deodorant and body wash and yeah, I’m definitely swooning.
“Maybe that’s what I’m hoping for. At least from one nurse in particular.”
“I’ll let Gustov know you’re hot for him. He swings your way from time to time.”
“Come here,” he growls, hauling me into his chest. He cups my face in both hands and leans in like he’s going to kiss me right here in this café in front of everyone at six thirty in the morning. Instead, his lips skirt my cheek, heading up for my ear. “I think we both know you’re the one I want. Can I make you dinner tonight when you get off work?”
“No.”
His teeth come out, scraping the lobe of my ear. “How about tomorrow?”
“Brecken—”
“Rina,” he parrots my tone. “If Aria weren’t an issue would you even think twice about us?”
Yes, I want to say, but that would be a lie. I would have already been in his bed. And he would have been in mine. And I would have already started to really like him because as it is now, I haven’t slept with him in three years and I already like him more than I should. Sex hasn’t even entered into this. That alone should be enough for me to turn him down. The idea of a relationship makes my skin crawl.
I know he’s Aria’s brother, Aria’s very protective older brother who would destroy anyone who ever attempted to hurt her. And I understand that the majority of men are not stalkers or violent. I also appreciate he doesn’t care in the least about my money.
But really liking a guy who is as temporary as it gets and a notorious player after all I’ve been through is just asking for heartache and trouble.
“Don’t let it be an issue,” he whispers into me when I don’t answer.
“How can you say that?”
“Easy.” He laughs, his warm breath fanning the skin of my neck as his nose tracks down, eliciting a trail of goose bumps in its wake. He inhales deeply and my eyes nearly roll back. “I’m the older brother and as much as I love Aria and would do anything for her, she has no right to tell me who I can and cannot be with. Especially when she already blew the dating someone’s best friend thing out of the water.”
“You never said anything about dating.”
I feel his smile against my neck. “Fine. Screwing around. Besides, you haven’t exactly pushed me away yet.”
My eyes shut in defeat. He’s right. I haven’t.
I like the way he feels when he’s close to me like this. I love the way his heat—even sweaty the way he is—envelops me. I can’t get enough of his smell or that damn smolder he throws at me without even a second’s thought about how easily it disarms me.
And that’s another thing. He disarms me. I relax when I’m around him.
Like it or not, I feel safe with Brecken Davenport.
“Thanks for reminding me.” I shove him off and he just grins like he knows that was all for show and isn’t put off in the slightest. I’m an open book with him, I’m starting to think.
As if proving my thoughts, he winks at me just as the barista calls out our order. He thanks her, dropping a large bill into the tip jar. He relays my coffee to me, the bag containing the box of muffins dangling from his wrist as he sips his own coffee with the same hand.
“Ready?”
I stare at him for a long moment, wondering what the hell I’m going to do. I should tell him that it’s an unequivocal no. I even had a speech planned out. But then he tosses his arm over my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world and like this we exit the café, heading in the direction of the hospital down at the bottom of the street.
“That place was insane. I don’t think coffee shops have been the same since the show Friends. That’s sorta when they became the universal cool-shit hangout. But when you’re Saturday morning deep after a motherfucker of a week, all you want is a place to sit down without listening to hipsters gloating over TikTok posts that went viral and college kids hacking the universe, likely altering the markets which will only make my life harder.”