Hamilton.
With a gentle tug, he pulled her up and then, suddenly, they were face-to-face, with only her books between them.
Dropping her gaze and her hand, she backed away first. “Thanks.”
“So.” He tried not to check her out, but it was hard because he was a man and she was smokin’. About a head shorter than he was, she had the toned arms and shoulders of someone who took care of herself in the gym...khaki cargo pants...manicured toes in flat sandals...no wedding ring. There was no unobtrusive way to lean around her and check out her ass, but he wanted to and bookmarked the idea in his mind, not that there was any chance of forgetting. “Let me replace your breakfast. Least I can do.”
“That would be great.” She kept her gaze lowered, which really wasn’t working for him, because he was getting the distinct impression she didn’t want to send him any “I’m available” vibes. Was she here with someone, then? Was the lucky punk in the john washing his hands at this very second? Or had Jake mistaken the look she’d just given him? “Thanks.”
“Cappuccino, right? Lots of that frothy stuff?”
She dimpled and flashed him a quick look. “That would be milk. Whole milk.”
“Well, it’s up to you how you ruin your coffee. And lemon cake?”
“Excuse me,” Ashley the barista said sourly, edging between them with a broom, dustpan and mop. “I better clean this up.”
“Thanks, Ashley,” he said.
Ashley, who’d apparently undergone an attitude transplant in the past couple minutes, split her assessing gaze between the two of them before she worked on the mess. If her thinning lips were any indication, she didn’t like what she saw—not the flirting or the splatter zone.
“Yeah,” the woman told him. “Lemon cake.”
“I’ll be right back.”
He hurried over to the counter and ordered, his mind full of how he and Gorgeous could eat and sip their coffee together, and then maybe grab lunch. Well, no, not lunch, obviously, right after eating breakfast, and he still needed to go home and shower because he probably smelled like the inside of his gym bag. But he’d get her number, and they could meet up later, maybe for drinks, but preferably for dinner, and then—
He swung back around, her cappuccino and cake in hand, and faltered.
She was sitting at the table in front of his, spreading out her books and opening her laptop, and didn’t look like she was in the market for a session of getting to know you with him.
Well, shit, he thought, deflating. That wasn’t the body language he’d been hoping for.
Still, there was nothing a trial lawyer liked better than a challenge, right?
He strode to her table and plunked her items in front of her. She’d put on a pair of sleek black-rimmed glasses and was all business now as she glanced up and gave him a quick nod of thanks.
“I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.”
Opening a notebook, she flipped a couple pages and started tapping on her computer, dismissing him.
Okay, then. He faltered again, deflating a little more. Another minute with this one and he’d be flatter than a sheet of tracing paper.
With nothing else to do, he took a chair at his table so that they were sitting back-to-back, sipped his coffee in a moody silence and remembered, too late, that he’d forgotten his newspapers again. He could go up and get them, of course, but a third trip to the counter in three minutes would just be pathetic.
He sat. Sipped. Took a bite of scone and chewed it, tasting nothing.
Behind him, he heard relentless typing. She was working, then. Good for her. He should be working, too.
And he would leave her alone. It would be rude to disturb someone who was clearly so busy.
Screw it. He twisted at the waist and squinted at her book. “Civil procedure, eh?”
“Uh-huh,” she murmured without looking up.
“That makes you a law student.”
“It does indeed. Part-time.”
“Where do you go?”
“Temple.”
“Good school.”
“It better be, because it’s getting all my pennies these days.”
Well, she wasn’t looking at him, but she hadn’t ordered him to shut the hell up, either, so he chose to believe he was making progress.
“Part-time’s a rough way to go, though. It’ll take you forever instead of just three years, right?”
She shrugged. “Well, you know. Full-time job and all that. Someone’s got to pay for bills and tuition, so what can I do?”
He felt a wave of sympathy, because that was a backbreaking load for anyone. Yet, he felt a stronger wave of admiration, because one look at this woman’s squared shoulders and firm chin told him that she was the determined type, and nothing was going to slow her down.
“What about student loans?”
“No loans for me. If I graduate with all kinds of debt, I’ll have to take a job at a huge firm to pay for it. And then I won’t be able to work with Legal Aid or the government if I want to. I want to keep my options open, you know?”
Another swell of appreciation hit him. “I do know. So are you enjoying it?”
“As much as anyone enjoys law school, I guess.”
He cocked his head, remembering. “I enjoyed law school.”
“Ah, but were you working full-time when you went?”
“I was not,” he conceded. “Props to you.”
Her lips turned up in the beginnings of a smile. “Why, thank you.”
He sipped again. She flipped a page in her book.
He gave up on being subtle, although, to be fair, that horse had galloped out of the barn a while back when he’d first laid eyes on her.
“I notice you have...one, two, three empty chairs at your table.”
That got a laugh out of her. “You didn’t mention you were a math whiz.”
“And I have...one, two, three empty chairs at my table. It seems like a waste of resources, don’t you think?”
She heaved a long-suffering sigh, but he could hear the amusement in her voice. “You do see that I’m trying to study, right?”
“What a nice offer.” Without giving her
