Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
He enters the coffee shop, and I stand from the table. “Hey,” I say lamely, all of a sudden feeling uncomfortable. I’m not sure what the fuck I’m doing or why I’m doing it.
He turns to look at me and removes a pair of black Aviators from his face. His blue eyes meet mine, and he smiles. “Hey.”
The guy is gorgeous. There’s no question about that. There’s just something about him that I like. Or maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t met someone new in a while. The last guy I crawled in bed with was Derek, and that was over a year ago. It was a random hookup because we were out and had some drinks. We’d had sex before, so it was familiar.
“Have you ordered yet?” he asks.
Right! We’re here for coffee, not to fuck. “I have not,” I answer.
He takes the few steps over to the counter, and asks, “What would you like?”
“Small coffee. Black, please.”
He places our order and then waits for them to make it while I sit back down.
“Come here often?” he asks, sitting down across from me with our coffees.
“Yeah,” I lie. I hardly ever come here. I’m not much of a coffee drinker. “How about you?” I ask and then inwardly curse myself.
“First time.” He chuckles.
This is so fucking awkward. I’d rather be having one of those dreams where you’re naked in front of a crowd instead of this. At least I know that wouldn’t be as embarrassing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
GRAVE
I FIND IT very off that April called me to meet her for coffee, but I didn’t question it. The moment I answered the phone and she said her name, I knew it was about Ethan. But I’m not going to willingly give her any information about him. If she wants to know, she’ll have to come out and ask.
She averts her eyes and blows on her coffee. I look her over. Her hair is up again today in that messy bun she seems to love. Her face is free of makeup. She looks gorgeous, but her ice blue eyes look tired, and I bet it has to do with Ethan.
“I like your bike,” she says, looking out the window.
“Thank you,” I say, taking a sip of my drink. I went out with Cross last night and got fucked up. I left my car at Kingdom and woke up at my house this morning, so I decided to drive my bike.
“So what is it you do for a living, Grave?” she asks, unable to look me in the eyes.
There it is. The million-dollar question. “I work at Kingdom,” I say vaguely.
Her dark brows lift. “Oh really? How long have you worked there?”
“Going on four years now,” I answer.
She nods her head.
“How long have you worked at Roses?” I counter.
She places her cup of coffee down. “I started working there when I was twelve.”
“That’s a long time.”
“My mother opened it, and I helped her out. I took over when she passed away.”
My chest tightens at her words. Her mother is dead. Just like mine. “That was nice of you to help her,” I say before taking another sip.
“Yeah, well …” She shrugs. “It was all she had, but she loved it.”
A silence falls over us, and my cell vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to see it’s Lucy.
Lucy: Where are you? I thought you were coming over this morning.
Ignoring the message, I lock my phone.
“What about your father?” I ask. “Does he help you with the shop?”
She shakes her head. “Left when Ethan and I were young.”
Well, fuck! This is going worse than I thought it would, but at least I know who Ethan is to her—her brother. That’s good to know.
My cell vibrates again but this time it’s my brother calling. “One second,” I tell her, then answer it. “Hello?”
“I need you to be in my office in an hour,” he barks.
“I’ll be there when I get there,” I say and hang up on him.
Her ice blue eyes go from my cell to mine. “You can go if you need to,” she says softly. Obviously, she’s changed her mind about whatever she wanted to meet me about.
I want to tell her that it’s fine, but I do need to get to Kingdom. I’m not in the mood to put up with my brother yelling at me all day, so I stand. “I’ll walk you back to Roses,” I say, tossing what’s left of my coffee into the trash can by the door.
She stays silent as we walk down the sidewalk and into Roses. She turns to face me once we step inside. Her eyes run over my neck tattoo and then my sleeve. She’s never treated me differently or looked at me any different than other customers, but I want to know what she’s thinking. Do they turn her off? Disgust her?