He brings us so close to each other that I don’t see anything but him. That I don’t smell anything but the scent of strawberries that he eats in honor of me. Then, pressing his thumb right on my fluttering jugular, he rasps, “How about you get me a small coffee, black, and warm up a strawberry scone for me, to go. I’m not really allowed to eat anything other than what’s on our diet plan because we’re prepping for the upcoming season, but I’m willing to cheat on it for you. Can you do that?”
Grabbing his wrist, I jerk out a nod, all dizzy with his proximity. “Yes.”
He squeezes my neck. “Good girl.” I shudder in response, and he continues, “But first, I want you to take a few deep breaths for me, can you do that too?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, with me, yeah?” He breathes in deep and I do too. Then, he exhales and I copy him. “Good. That was good. Now, again, okay?” Again, we repeat the same breathing pattern and again he says, “Good. That was good too.” He makes me repeat it a couple more times before he continues, “I’m going to leave and head to practice in a bit. And you’ll work your shift and get people coffee, yeah? And then, I’ll see you at the club tonight.”
“At the c-club?”
Danger flashes through his eyes. “Someone needs to keep those assholes off you until you officially quit in seven days.”
I’m not going to quit in seven days, or for a long time, and maybe I should tell him that. But I find that I can’t. Maybe it really worked, his deep breaths and the way he calmed me down. That’s what he was doing, wasn’t he? Helping me calm down because I was losing it.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He squeezes my neck again. “Okay.”
I squeeze his wrist back. “You have to… You have to let me go so I can get you your coffee and your s-scone.”
He hums, his eyes roving all over my face. “In a second.”
I dig my nails in his wrist, suddenly feeling shy. This is too intimate, too personal, him staring at me from this close. Not just staring but actually devouring me. I want to tell him to stop, but he speaks first. “I know they say you can’t count the stars in the sky, but one day…”
“One day what?”
His mouth pulls up in a tiny smile. “I’m going to count all the freckles on your face.”
My breath hitches. “You?—”
With a deep breath, he lets me go and straightens up. Then he takes his baseball cap off, his messy hair falling over his forehead, and in a stunning turn of events, puts it on me. “What are you doing?”
He settles it on my head and adjusts the brim. “You’ve got a uniform, which means wearing my jersey is out. So this is the next best thing.”
“Next best thing for what?”
He fiddles with it some more and once satisfied, moves away and stares into my eyes. “To tell all the assholes out there which asshole you belong to.”
Five minutes later, he leaves the shop with his coffee and his scone, and I know, I know, he’s not going to leave me alone so easily. Which means I have to do everything I can to stand my ground, because I’m not going to sleep with him for money. More accurately, money or not, I’m not going to sleep with mystepbrotherwithout him knowing who I am.
Chapter Nine
I was right.
About him not leaving me alone, because he doesn’t. Every morning, he shows up at the coffee shop. He always gets the same thing, and he always places his order with me.Always. If I’m not working the register, he’ll wait until I get there andthenplace his order. I tell him he’s being annoying, and he tells me I’m being cute. I tell him to stop, and he tells me to say yes, and he will.
“Why can’t you get your coffee elsewhere?” I ask.
“Because I come here for you, not the coffee.”
“You—”
He jerks his chin up at me. “Has he bothered you lately?”
“Haswhobothered me lately?”
“Your fuckwad boss.”
