Page 26 of Himbo Hitman
“A dood gay?” He leans his hip against the counter. “What would that be, exactly?”
“It was supposed to begood.”
“Agoodgay?” His grin stretches wider, and my embarrassment claws deeper. “How did you know that’s my type?”
By this point, my head is threatening to go supernova, and it takes me a second to realize what he’s saying and … wait. Is he …wait.
St. Clare blatantly checks me out.
He’s fucking hitting on me.
He’s hitting on the guy who almost killed him.
The urge to laugh rolls over me, and the only thing that stops it in its place is the worry I’ll come across as wildly homophobic. Which I’m not. Guys have hit on me before. It’s fine. It’s cool. Gives me a little zip of confidence even.
And, like now, even sometimes manages to scrub the ever-present words from my brain.
“Uhhhhmm …”
He reaches over and drags a long finger along my plastic charm bracelet. “This is cute.”
“Th-thanks. It’s my happy charm.”
“Happy charm?”
I try to gather up my confidence that’s currently shredded on the floor. “When I’m down or whatever, all it takes is one look at it to make myself feel better.”
He eyes me curiously. “I like the idea of a happy charm. Maybe I should get one.”
“You should.”
“I should.” St. Clare takes a long sip from his drink. “Damn, that’s good.” He nods my way. “Have a dood gay …” His eyes flick toward my name tag. “Perry.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
ST. CLARE
“That’s your third coffee today,”Lars mutters as I lift it for a sip.
“Are you caffeine shaming me?” I ask, squinting at my computer and trying to make heads or tails of these fucking spreadsheets. “After the ordeal I just went through?”
Lars chuckles, lounging in the chair across from me, occasionally clicking or typing loudly on his laptop in a way that’s so sporadic it’s making my eye twitch. “Sure. The ordeal. That’s what’s caused this sudden addiction. Not the new barista you’re thirsty for.”
I’m not surprised that Lars has picked up on it when I’ve done nothing to hide my interest. Not from him or me … or Perry. Fuck. He’s so hot. A sweet, rambly mess with shoulders that look too broad for him to know what to do with. Then there’s the way his smile lights up his whole face like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Watching him move around that tiny cafe counter is like watching an overexcited Doberman in a china shop.
Truthfully, Perry isn’t the kind of guy I normally go for, but something in his voice gave me this instant hit of familiarity, and the more I see of him, the more interested I become.
“Good thing they serve drinks there, then.”
“Something tells me the tall glass of water you want isn’t actually on the menu.”
I finally let my attention free of the spreadsheets. “Why?”
“He hasn’t asked for your number yet. Any queer dude would have gotten your message by now.”
“Maybe he’s closeted?”
“Maybe. Which is another reason why you should let it go.”
