Stella freaking raves about her as a teacher. Talks about how they go on nature hikes around campus, and she gives them recipes she’s trying out and does yoga and meditation with them. And in history, she just talks to them, tells them stories without using notes or textbooks, but they learn so much.
Until I figure out how to stop thinking and fantasizing about her, I’m avoiding her. And being shitty, as my brother so politely pointed out.
Someone crosses the street in our direction, heading for the coffee shop we’re lingering outside of. I wait until they enter, and the door shuts behind him before I say, “She lives next door.”
His eyebrows crease. “What? Who?”
“The woman I met in the hotel.”
It takes him about three seconds to put the pieces together, and then he laughs. Like doubled over, hand braced on the side of the building for support laughing. “Shit,” he sputters. “That’s priceless.” Then he halts his laughing. “Wait, is she—”
“No,” I interrupt, already knowing what he was about to ask. “It was a coincidence. She thought I was you, remember?”
“Right. I assume she knows the deal now?”
“She hates me for it.”
“She’ll get over it.”
I shake my head, frustrated by the way he says that. “I don’t want her to get over it. I like her hating me.”
Luca’s eyes roll dramatically at me, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he says, “Of course you do. Why on earth would you ever want a beautiful woman with whom you already have fantastic sexual chemistry to live next door to you and not hate you?”
“Because I don’t do that.”
“My question was fucking rhetorical, asshole. You should want that. You should want all of that any chance you can get it.”
I shake my head. The more distance and animosity I place between me and her, the better it is for all of us. “There’s more.” Now I look around, but no one is paying us any attention. For once. “She’s also Stella’s teacher.”
And just like that, my brother loses his shit again.
Laughing so loud we’re catching the attention of passersby. He’s wiping tears from his eyes, noting my glare, and holding up a conciliatory hand when I know he’s not the least bit remorseful.
“Sorry,” he lies. “That’s just too damn good. But wait, does that mean you can’t fuck her again? Is that like some rule or law?”
“You’re a dick,” I grumble, turning away from him and opening the door to the coffee shop. Luca is hot on my heels as I knew he would be, taking the lead and ordering our coffees from the pretty barista. As with every woman Luca encounters, she simpers, blushing like a virgin on her wedding night.
Luca is like that, and I don’t even know how he does it.
I live in this town and see this woman frequently enough, but she’s never looked at me like that other than maybe the first time I walked in here. It’s all so easy for him when being normal feels nothing short of impossible for me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything other than pain, grief, and guilt that I don’t even remember what it’s like to take a breath without their insurmountable weight on me.
I turn my back on him, locating a small table off to the side of the counter, and a few minutes later, he joins me, handing me my large mug of black coffee. I blow off some of the steam, taking a tentative sip and generally ignoring the way my brother is studying me. He doesn’t have to look too hard. Hiding anything from him is impossible.
A point proven when he says, “This is really torturing you.”
I open my mouth to argue, to tell him I’m not tortured by her, just annoyed it’s a thing, but soon enough it won’t be, when the door chimes and in walks a staggeringly beautiful woman with honey-colored hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun and eyes that change color—more green to brown or brown to green—depending on her mood.
She’s wearing tight as all sin yoga pants that show off every muscular curve of her shapely legs and ass and a goddamn loose-fitting crop top that hits right above her belly button.
And just like that, my cock springs to life.
I grunt, forcing myself back to my coffee, but Luca is mesmerized, a knowing smirk on his lips as his eyes dance back and forth between Elle and me. I shake my head at him, and his smile grows as he goes back to watching her, marveling at her, ever the amused devil.
“Elle,” the barista greets and great, she comes here often enough for the barista to know her name. Now I have to find a new favorite coffee shop. “I didn’t think I’d see you here this early.”
“I took an early yoga class down the street,” she replies, approaching the counter and staring up at the board over the barista’s head. “What’s good today?”
“Do you like chai?”
Elle shrugs, gnawing contemplatively on her lip as she continues to study the thing like she’s expecting to be tested on it later. “Indifferent.”
“How do you feel about espresso?”
“Right now?” she snorts. “I need it more than sex.”
Fuck. That’s it. Both women laugh, and I reach out, grabbing Luca’s arm, begging him. He just chuckles an in your dreams I’m not doing this laugh, already halfway out of his chair as he shrugs off my grip and heads for the counter. For Elle.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says to her, and she spins in his direction, gawking at him as if he’s an alien from another planet. Which makes sense since that is certainly not a greeting I’d ever bestow upon her, even if I’m thinking it.
“Um. I’m sorry. I think I must have misheard you. Or had a stroke on my walk here from yoga?”
He laughs, leaning into her, dropping his elbow on the counter, and encroaching on her space. Damn him. I have half a mind to get up and leave. I should. That’s exactly what I should do. But I can’t make myself move. My fists are balled up on my lap, my jaw clenched tighter than a drum even though I know. I know he’s just doing this to get a rise out of me.
He’d never touch her now that I have. It’s been our twin—hell, with all our brothers—rule never to pursue a woman any of us has ever messed around with. That’s not even why he’s doing it. But still, the thought of it. Of someone else…
“Well, considering your pupils are equal, round, and reactive, you have no facial droop, are standing equally balanced on two feet, and not slurring your words, I think it’s safe to say you didn’t have a stroke on your way over here.”
She tilts her head inquisitively, staring straight up into his eyes, and then a smile bursts across her face. My stupid chest tightens reflexively.
“I met you once. I don’t know if you remember. It was a few years back. I’m Elle.” She extends her hand, and he shakes it. “It’s very nice to meet you, Luca Fritz. The real Luca Fritz, that is.”
I roll my eyes, and she peers around Luca, catching me do it before returning to him.
“Did you know you don’t have a freckle in your eye?”
He laughs. “Did you know you’re one of few people on this planet who have caught that? It is very nice to meet you, Elle, and yes, I do remember you now. It was at some charity thing?” He glances over his shoulder, grins like a son of a bitch at me, and then back to her with a wink he makes sure I don’t miss. “I never forget a pretty face. Please, won’t you come join us?” He turns to the barista, pulling out his wallet and dropping a twenty on the counter. “That’s for her coffee. Obviously, you need to make her something with espresso in it.”