I kept myself busy shopping at thrift and dollar stores. I had two storage containers sitting in the corner of my bedroom that were full of purchases for my classroom. I’d also gotten a really cool antique-looking desk made of dark wood, with a lamp and an old computer chair for me to do my grading while at home, a secondhand dresser, a lumpy futon for a bed that I could also use as a couch if I wanted to sit there and work…oh, and a job at a coffeehouse. It was only part-time. I’d hoped to get more hours before the school year started, but this was better than nothing. Plus, they’d let me stay on evenings a couple of days a week once I was teaching.
All in all, I couldn’t complain. That should have clued me in that something was going to go wrong. Any string of good luck was always the calm before the storm. I’d come to expect it, just not fifteen minutes before I got off work, in the form of a pair of familiar hazel eyes, a sinful mouth, and a long, sculpted body with hands I still remembered the feel of on my body.
“Oh, hey.” Harrison’s brows drew together, and I could tell by the look on his face that he truly was surprised to see me. “Ross didn’t tell me you were working here.”
I stared at him dumbly as if I’d suddenly forgotten how to speak.
The lines on his forehead deepened. “Are you going to be teaching soon?”
It made sense that Ross didn’t talk to Harrison about me. He didn’t talk to me about his dad either. Clearly, he’d meant it when he said he was going to pretend the night that shall not be mentioned didn’t happen. “Yeah, in August,” I finally replied. “I’m just here part-time for a little extra cash.”
“Will you quit when the school year starts?”
I could see the worry in his eyes because Ross looked at me the same way…only not the exact same because unless I was imagining things, there was a flare of desire there too.
“No. What can I get you today?” I glanced over my shoulder, but the other employees weren’t paying us any attention.
“You’re going to teach and work as a barista?” Harrison asked, grating on my nerves. I got that he was a nice guy, and I appreciated that, but what I did was really none of his business.
“Sure am. The specials today are a marshmallow-blended coffee and an iced caramel apple.”
He frowned but seemed to catch on that I wasn’t going to have this conversation with him. At least not in the middle of said place of employment. “Just a regular iced coffee, please—large. And a piece of cinnamon coffeecake.”
I rang up his order and gave him a total. Harrison paid, then shoved a ten-dollar bill into the tip jar, making white-hot anger surge through me. I felt like I was one of those cartoon characters where the top part of their heads blew off, they were so pissed. “Thank you,” I said through pursed lips. “We’ll have your order at the end of the counter.”
The universe must’ve hated me because there were no customers behind him and the shift leader, Carlos, said—loud enough for Harrison to hear—“It’s slow, so we can make that and you can go ahead and take off.”
“Great. Thanks.” I forced my gaze away from finding Harrison’s, even though it wanted to betray me and do just that. I went to the back, removed my apron, and went into the bathroom, washing my hands and stalling as long as I could. I didn’t know if Harrison would wait for me, but somehow I had a feeling he would. There was something about that guy that made me feel like I knew him better than I should, and I was probably more pissed at him than I should be as well.
The second I stepped outside, I saw him, leaning against the brick building, which he pushed off of. He gave me a sexy half-grin that reminded me of the night we’d met, but then I thought about that ten-dollar bill, and my whole body flushed with frustration. I was pretty sure the top of my head did blow off as I stalked toward him. “I’m not a charity case.” I fought to keep my voice low so people walking down the sidewalk didn’t hear.
“What?” He had the nerve to look confused, lines forming when his brow furrowed. I started to walk, Harrison falling into step beside me. “I’ve pissed you off, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why.”
“All the questions over my job, the tip, buying dinner the night of graduation, Ross offering for me to stay in the apartment for free.”
“Shit. I clearly owe you an apology. Alert the authorities. I’m a nice guy.” I stopped, crossed my arms, and tapped my foot. The motherfucker smiled at me in return. “Jesus, you’re cute.”
And he was fucking hot. It was his looks that got us in this mess in the first place. “Like a baby or a puppy?” I asked, more snap to my voice than I’d intended, but really? Cute? We’d spent a whole night fucking, and now because I was his son’s friend, I was suddenly cute?
“No.” Harrison took a small step toward me, close enough that I could smell his cologne over car engines and the trash of the city. His coffee was in his hand, but I didn’t see the cake. Had he already eaten it? Why it mattered, I couldn’t figure out, but it gave me something to concentrate on. “The last thing I’d compare you to is a baby or a puppy, but in case you forgot, we’re supposed to be good. You’re my son’s friend.”
My breathing picked up. He licked his lips, and he had coffee on his breath. I remembered what it felt like to have his hands on me, his dick inside me. It was those thoughts I blamed for my response. “Who?” Shit. “I mean, Ross. I know that. I just…” Had lust-brain fog? I took a step back and hit the wall of a pawnshop we were standing beside. Harrison moved away from me as well. “I wasn’t saying I want you to think of me as… You know what? Never mind. We’re getting off-track.”
A deep rumble of a laugh fell from Harrison’s lips. “And what track is that? You being mad at me for being a nice person?”
“No! God, it’s weird. We had sex, and now you’re tipping me and shit like that. It feels like…”
“Oh.”
“Not that I have a problem with sex work, but that’s just not what this is. I don’t want special treatment because we hooked up.”
“In my defense, it had nothing to do with that. I tip everyone, Zander, generously, because that was me once—the waiter, the barista—and those tips helped me survive. I bought you dinner because I was buying it for Ross and me. As for offering for you to stay in the apartment for free after everything went down with us, that was my son, not me, though I agree with him. I know you well enough not to make the offer.”
I frowned. “I think you almost just did…and you don’t know me. Not really.” Forget that I’d recently thought the same thing about him, that I knew him. We’d had one night together, and that was all. Still, I put it together from what I saw of him, and I had bits and pieces of him that Ross had shared with me.
“I know you’re confident yet vulnerable, even though you try not to show the last one. I know you’re funny, and that you’re determined when you set your mind to something, whether it’s teaching or going home with a man you meet at a bar.” I opened my mouth, but he cut me off. “And before you say it, not in a pushy way. You never pressured me. You just let me know what you wanted and gave me the choice, which I respect. You’re also incredibly passionate about education. I saw it that night, and I’ve heard it from Ross. You’re hardworking and independent. I’m not sure you know that it’s okay to accept help sometimes. That it’s actually a sign of strength. I didn’t get where I am on my own, and—”