need another short-term deal right now. “In fact,” she said, thinking aloud, “not having a date is a good thing. Now I don’t have to worry about entertaining anybody, and can focus on being the maid of honor. What if you have a bridal emergency? I’m supposed to be at your beck and call for anything you need.”
“You’re not funny,” Larissa said, narrowing her eyes. “Beck and call” had been an inside joke for months. Ever since Larissa got engaged and turned planning her wedding into her life’s work.
“Actually,” Chloe replied with a grin, “I am very funny.”
“Wait till you start planning your own wedding. You’re going to want my help, and I’m not going to give you any.”
“Oh come on, La-roo, you and I both know I plan on being one of those inappropriate cougars who dates your son’s friends.”
Larissa folded her arms across her chest. “You would, too, just to get me, wouldn’t you?”
“You know it,” Chloe said with a cheeky grin. When discussing her love life, she was very good at playing the irreverent, cavalier friend. Only after Delilah and Larissa returned to their desks did she let herself give in to the hollowness plaguing her chest.
She’d liked Aiden, dammit. So what if their relationship consisted mostly of meeting up at parties and clubs? Enough time had gone by that she’d started to think maybe he might be a guy who stuck around awhile. She should have known better. Sooner or later all men left. After all, a person had to be worth sticking around for.
* * *
“Well, well, well, look who’s back. Should I grab my umbrella?”
The slacker’s gravelly greeting seemed to inch its way up Chloe’s spine, causing her to stiffen. Looking over at the front table, she saw him leaning back in his chair, a smile on his ginger-stubbled face. You really need to find a better nickname, she thought to herself. Smug Bastard might work today.
“I wouldn’t want to waste a good coffee,” she told him.
“Again,” he replied.
“Excuse me?”
“You mean you wouldn’t want to waste a good cup of coffee again. Though now that I think about it, you didn’t really waste yesterday’s drink, did you?”
Chloe narrowed her eyes. She was so not in the mood.
“Not a morning person, are we, Curlilocks?”
“Depends on the company.”
“Ouch.” He clutched his chest. “You wound.”
If only. She looked away, hoping he’d get the hint and stop talking. Being here was awkward enough without the commentary.
He didn’t. “I’ve got to admit, I’m impressed. I wasn’t sure you’d be back.”
Neither was she, until she’d walked through the door. In fact, she’d stood on the corner for a good ten minutes, debating the decision, convinced the manager would toss her on the sidewalk the second she entered. Or worse, Aiden would throw an iced coffee in her face.
In the end, pride won out. Stopping for her morning iced latte had been part of her routine long before Aiden came into the picture. No way was she letting some two-timing coffee jerk change that.
“Why wouldn’t I come back?” she asked Slacker. He didn’t need to know about her indecision. “Like I said, they’ve got good coffee here.”
“Better than good, if you ask me.” To prove his point, he took a sip. Chloe noticed the side of his left hand already had ink smudges. Today was a note writing day, apparently.
“Although,” he added, once he’d swallowed, “if I were you, I’d ask another barista to wait on me. In case.”
“I’m not you,” she reminded him.
He surprised her by raking his eyes up and down her entire length. “That you’re not, Curlilocks,” he said with a rough-sounding growl meant to make her insides take notice.
Chloe’s hand flew to her abdomen. Something about the man’s voice managed to get beneath her skin. He knew it, too; his eyes gleamed with cockiness.
Keeping her head high, she headed to the register, where Aiden waited. “Hey,” she greeted.
“Good morning. May I take your order?”
That was it? Where was the glare? The terse words? The recognition? Surely she was worth some kind of reaction beyond a bland, generic greeting? “About yesterday...”
“Did you want a coffee?” The bland smile didn’t slip. He was, for all intents and purposes, treating her like a complete stranger. As inconsequential as an out-of-state tourist. Punching her in the stomach would have hurt less. “The usual.”
“Which is?”
The cut deepened. Chloe’s eyes started to burn. She quickly blinked. He did not deserve the satisfaction.
“The lady drinks iced peppermint mocha latte.”
Looking over her shoulder, she got a shrug from the slacker. “You know my order?”
“What can I say? Sit here long enough, you hear things.”
“Don’t you mean eavesdrop?”
His lips curled into a crooked smile. “Only on the interesting customers.”
“No offense, but that’s a little creepy.” Even if her stomach did flutter at the idea that she qualified as interesting.
“You say creepy; I say observant. Sort of a potato-potahto kind of thing. I like people watching.”
“Let me guess. You’re a writer.”
“If I am, then literature as we know it is in trouble,” he said, punctuating the remark with a low chuckle.
How on earth did Del and La-roo not notice him sitting there every day? Even as possibly crazy slackers went, the man stood out in a crowd. What, at first glance, looked like street scruff was really very controlled. His hair was shortly cropped, and his not quite red, not quite blond stubble looked more like he simply couldn’t be bothered with pulling out the razor than a lack of grooming. His battered jacket was similarly deceptive. Looking closer, she recognized what had been a very expensive piece of leather that had been worn till the thing molded to his broad shoulders. It reminded her of the basketball sneakers she couldn’t give up even after she could afford better ones.
“See anything you like, Curlilocks?”
Crap. Chloe turned back to the register, hoping she didn’t look too flustered. “I was admiring your jacket.”
His chuckle was low and raspy. “This old thing? I’ve had her for years.”
Her? Much as she knew she shouldn’t, Chloe took the bait. “You gave your jacket a gender?”
“Sure.
