I watched her walk away, her green dress swaying with each step. Once she was out of earshot, I turned to Danny with a shit-eating grin.
“See?” I spread my arms wide. “Finding Beth was easy peasy.”
Danny just stared at me, his expression a perfect mix of disbelief and exasperation. “You’re fucking unbelievable, you know that?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BETH
I fidgetedwith my Metro card as I waited for the subway, my stomach doing somersaults. A coffee date with Sean. After everything that happened in Glasgow, here we were, about to meet up like normal people. The subway car lurched forward, and I grabbed the pole, steadying myself.
The ride from Brooklyn felt endless. I checked my reflection in the scratched subway window, hair decent enough, makeup not too much. I’d changed outfits three times this morning, finally settling on a simple blue sundress that didn’t scream “trying too hard.”
When I emerged from the subway station near Central Park, the oppressive summer heat slammed into me like a wall. Each block to the coffee shop seemed to stretch longer, my breath quickening as my pulse ticked up a notch.
The bell jingled as I pushed open the door of “Bean There, Done That.”Honestly, who names these places?The smell ofcoffee and pastries? Frigging awesome. My eyes did a quick sweep of the room.
And then the whole chaotic, coffee-scented room dissolved. There was only him.
He was already rising from a corner table, and the simple act of him standing felt like a shift in the room’s gravity, pulling all the energy toward him. Towards me. My breath didn’t just catch; it evacuated my lungs entirely, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. He wasn’t just handsome in the way a movie star is handsome. He was... foundational. Like a force of nature you don’t just admire but have to brace yourself against.
His unruly dark brown hair had the kind of artful messiness that men pay a fortune to achieve but that I knew was entirely natural for him. It framed a face that was all sharp angles and devastating planes. A strong jaw, high cheekbones, a mouth that could command a room and, as I knew all too well, could also whisper, tease, and devour.
But it was his eyes that truly undid me. They were a deep, mossy green, and they didn’t just look at you; they looked into you, mapping every secret you had while revealing none of their own. When they met mine, that electric current from Glasgow didn’t just spark—it arced between us, a live wire that made the hair on my arms stand up and my knees consider liquidating their assets and retiring on the spot.
He wore a simple white button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with lean muscle. The top buttons were undone, and my gaze immediately found the dark, intricate lines of the tattoo peeking out from his chest, the same pattern I had traced with my fingertips that night, a secret map I suddenly, desperately, wanted to explore again.
And then he smiled. It wasn’t just a grin; it was adevastating weapon. The dimples that carved into his cheeks weren’t just “sexy little valleys”; they were gravitational pulls, capable of sucking all the common sense right out of a girl. Christ, it was unfair. It was a biological attack on any rational thought.
I gave myself a violent mental shake, trying to reboot my system. Get a grip, MacLeod. This was meant to be coffee. A civilized conversation. Not a complete neurological meltdown over a man who was, by all accounts, a walking, talking complication I absolutely did not need. This was a fresh start, not a relapse.
“Hey,” I managed, sliding into the seat across from him.
“Hey yourself.” His voice had that same warm timber that had first caught my attention.
The barista came over, and I ordered a latte and a chocolate croissant, mostly to have something to do with my hands. Sean got a black coffee. Of course he did, my Health-Conscious-Motivational-Guru.
“I’m really glad you called yesterday,” I said, fiddling with a napkin. “Though I almost didn’t expect you to after… well, after Glasgow.”
A slow, confident grin spread across his face, the one that activated those devastating dimples. “Not call? Beth, I had my assistant clearing my schedule for this coffee date before I even left the bar. There was zero chance I was letting you disappear on me again.”
His directness sent a pleasant jolt through me. I laughed. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. But honestly, when I spotted you at that café, I thought it was some kind of cosmic joke. What are you even doing in New York? You said something about business?”
Sean took a sip of his coffee, a little too casually. “Purecoincidence, actually. Yes, I’m here for business. A few meetings, a couple of potential speaking gigs. Plus, I have that big conference in Philly next week, so I came to the East Coast early to prepare. Seeing you was just… a lucky break.”
I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand as I studied him.Coincidence? In a city of eight million people? Not bloody likely.
“Business meetings,” I repeated, letting a skeptical smile play on my lips. “So you’re telling me, out of all the coffee shops in all of New York, you justhappenedto be at the one across the street from my new office, on my first week? McCrae, for a man who makes a living with words, you’re a terrible liar.”
He stared at me for a moment, then let out a low chuckle, scrubbing a hand over his face in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, fine. You got me.” His eyes, now sparkling with mischief, met mine. “The truth is, it was pure, stubborn determination. And a reluctant assist from your friend Kinna.”
I leaned forward, surprised. “You talked to her?”
“I did,” he confirmed. “And for the record, she’s a phenomenal friend. She told me, in no uncertain terms, to get lost and stay away from you. But in the middle of her very protective rant, she let it slip that you’d come to New York to start over. It was all I had to go on.”
I stared at him, trying to process the sheer audacity of it. He’d cancelled his schedule, flown thousands of miles, and started shaking down my friends, all based on one chaotic night and a cryptic note. My internal alarm bells, the ones honed by years of dealing with manipulative men, were screaming. This wasn't romantic; this was the opening scene of a stalker documentary.
But then I looked at him—really looked at him. There wasno slyness in his eyes, no hint of a hidden agenda. There was just... a devastating, earnest sincerity. A stubborn hopefulness that was so completely at odds with my own jaded view of the world. He wasn’t a stalker. He was a hopeless romantic. And God help me, I was starting to think I might be one too. It was the most terrifying and thrilling thought I'd had in years.
