Oreo grumbles under her breath but trots along beside me. Whether she’s protesting or letting me know she was done looking at it anyway is anyone’s guess.
Where the hell did Miles find this dog? She’s got attitude for days.
Just like someone else I know.
Memories of last night, of Scarlett, come flooding back. I can still taste her on my lips. Feel the press of her body against mine. Hear her cry out as she came apart in my arms.
It was absolute perfection.
And next time, I’m going to taste every gorgeous inch of her.
Are you so sure there will be a next time?
Yes. One night with Scarlett could never be enough. Not when our time together only whet my appetite, leaving me with an undeniable craving for more. It’s strange, unfamiliar, this desire for her, but I can’t deny its existence.
Because even though it can only ever be sex between us, I yearn for her in a way I’ve never longed for a woman before.
Scarlett’s smart and attractive, but it’s more than that. She has a great sense of humor. An iron will that matches my own, at times driving me to my breaking point. And she’s an excellent listener. Until last night, I’d never wanted to share the story of my childhood, but with her, it had felt right.
This connection between us, whatever it is, I’ve never felt it with another woman.
Oreo slows to a stop, dragging her feet. When I turn to see what she’s up to, she plants her ass on the sidewalk and stares at the building to her right. It’s a gourmet coffee shop, the ultramodern kind with professional coffee stewards and their own line of merchandise.
It smacks of pretension.
“Come on, girl.” I check my watch, hoping she’ll take a hint. “We’ve got to get to work.”
Oreo yips and stares longingly at the coffee shop.
There’s a sign in the window that says four-legged friends are welcome, but since Oreo can’t read, I assume it’s the picture of a dog bone that’s caught her eye.
I tug gently on the leash. “We don’t have time for this.”
She looks me dead in the eye and grumbles something that sounds a hell of a lot like, “You can buy me a bone or you can carry my ass home—your choice,” making no move to get up.
Fuck it. I’m already late. And I could use a caffeine boost.
We enter the café and join the short line. Oreo smiles happily, walking circles around my feet as I study the menu. I don’t know why I bother. It’s not like I’m going to order one of those fancy soy whipped cream drinks or whatever. I just need a regular coffee—black.
Like your soul.
I ignore the bitter little voice. After all, Oreo’s proof I’m not a complete dick.
The line moves forward, and when we get to the front, I order a small black coffee and a dog biscuit. While I wait for my order to be filled, I scan the café, my gaze making a lazy trek around the restaurant. It’s bright and airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the street and small bistro-style tables lined up in neat rows. About half the tables are occupied, and while most patrons are casually dressed like myself in jeans or athleisure, there’s one guy in a three-piece suit who catches my eye.
I squint, realizing I know him.
Jack Garrett.
He also works in FinTech, and his company, Boxxi, is one of Triada’s key competitors. He doesn’t see me, and it’s just as well. There’s no love lost between us. Austin is home to several big tech companies and, for better or worse, we all know each other.
It’s been a while since I last spoke with Jack, and I have no interest in changing that today. I’m just about to turn back to the counter to collect my order when another man joins him at the small table. He’s tall and slim with curly brown hair and an ill-fitting suit. My gut hardens at the sight of him. He’s familiar, though it takes me a beat to place him without his typical uniform of faded jeans and a T-shirt.
I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him around the Triada campus often enough to know he works for my company. Maybe in IT. Or could it be operations?
The department is irrelevant.
The real question is, what the hell is he doing having a breakfast meeting with a competitor?
