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I hide a wince. Now I’m probably scaring her more. “I have a good memory for drinks. And faces. That’s all. Part of my job.”
It’s still not enough, it seems, because she bites her lower lip and inches back. “I don’t know if I should…”
“I brought in a new batch of books just today,” I blurt out, panicking and desperate to convince her to stay. “Lots of romantasy titles. Lots of Fae and shadow daddies.”
And… wouldn’t you know. Looks like I’ve hit the jackpot. Her pretty eyes brighten and she stops inching away from me.
“For real?” she asks eagerly. “What titles do you have? Anything with dark academia and dragons?”
Shit, a girl after my own heart.
“I sure do. That is, I’m pretty sure I do. Would you like to take a look?”
She hesitates, then nods, and a weight lifts off my shoulders.
But then she says, “Are you sure… you’re okay with me just sitting and reading? While having a coffee, of course.”
“This is what this café is all about,” I inform her, grinning and unable to hide it. “Go ahead and grab a book, I’ll bring you the coffee.”
I can’t fucking hide how pleased I am to see her again. I watch her walk to the back of the café, feeling guilty for not being able to look away from her heart-shaped ass and shapely legs in her worn jeans, the way she tilts her head. She’s like a fantasy princess. Or a pixie.
My pixie.
Oh, man… Back away, Sawyer, before you do anything more stupid. Something like pledge your life to her, to a girl you barely know. You don’t even know her designation, her familial status, her needs and wishes. Don’t push her. Don’t insist.
Detangle your own life first before you ask her if she’s interested in starting something with you, yeah?
Easier said than done. I just can’t keep away. Before I know it, I’m back there, beside her, acting like a creep.
“Have you found anything you like?”
“I got this one.” She waves the book at me, grinning. It has a wild-haired girl on the cover. Like her. “It’s about an omega acolyte in a temple who is sworn to chastity but then goes into heat and realizes she’s an omega. In that world, being alpha or omega is a bad thing because that means they are Fae and the king is after them…”
“Yes?” I prompt when she trails off.
“Sorry. Speaking of heats to an omega is bad manners, isn’t it?”
“It’s fine,” I assure her.
“But I?—”
“Society doesn’t like us talking openly about sexual matters. Periods. Heats. Pregnancies. I think we should. We should talk about all this shit.”
“I sure hope you’re not pregnant.”
“Nope.” I pat my—admittedly flat—stomach. “It’s all chocolates and cake.”
A snicker escapes her. I’m pretty damn sure she hadn’t meant to lower her defenses and allow herself the reaction, because instantly she claps a hand over her mouth.
Does it feel good that I got through and made her laugh? Fuck, yeah.
Do I want more? Do I want to inch closer, slip through all those prickly walls and touch her? Hell, yeah.
Do I think that it’s a bad idea when she’s so skittish?
Fuck me, yeah to that, too.
Knowing it, though, has never stopped me before. Not when I told my alpha brother Eric when I was little that I wanted to fly, and then went on to climb onto the roof of our house and jump. He caught me, thankfully, by the way. Not when I decided to leave the family nest and open this café against my parents’ will, making a tense situation worse, and again leaving Eric to pick up the pieces.
