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I stare at my favorite twenty-two-year-old brat, whose looks take after our mother’s far more than mine, but whose attitude is quite definitely her father’s.
“Rowan,” someone else calls. This time, the voice is soft, a clear contrast to my sister’s angry tone. “I didn’t see you walk in.”
I look up to find Willow watching me. Her hair is tied back in her signature loose bun, and I have to fight the need to reach up and undo the band, just to see how far it falls, to feel the smooth texture of her beautiful hair as I…
“How do you two know each other?” Nora demands, breaking into my thoughts and forcing me to shift my eyes to her blue ones that remind me so much of our mother. “Yesterday, you two were strangers, and today you’re on a first name basis?”
“Nora…” Willow’s voice is careful as she steps up to her friend’s side. “I went to see Rowan after our talk yesterday. I took some papers with me to discuss why the Anti-Valentine’s Day idea is a great one.”
“What papers?”
“Well, reports I drew up. I had to show him something, so I spent all evening working on them before going to his office.”
“Is that true?” Nora asks, skeptical. “Are you really going to let me run the Anti-Valentine’s Day campaign?”
“Your friend makes a convincing argument,” I say, staring at Willow.
I don’t miss the blush on Willow’s cheeks or the way she looks away to hide it.
“I…I’ll leave you to talk,” she says, her voice breathless. “Can I get you anything?”
I stay quiet until her eyes meet mine. “I’ll take anything, surprise me.”
Her eyes widen, and I watch in fascination as her blush deepens. My words were meant to remind her of what happened in my office, and it looks like they hit the mark.
How her body trembled under my fingers…her lips sobbed out my name, begging for me like I was the only one that could give her relief.
For years, I’ve been too focused on building my brand to attempt a relationship. I’m hardly a monk, but I believe sex to be too much of a distraction, so I rarely indulge. To be fair, I wasn’t wrong because, ever since I touched Willow, she’s all I can think about.
She’s mine.
“I…I’ll go make you something,” she whispers, heat flaring in her eyes. I watch her walk away, my eyes glued on her ass, and it’s not until someone steps in front of me that I snap back to the present.
“Rowan, what are you doing here?” Nora demands.
“It’s my coffee shop, Nora. I can be here as much or as little as I want.”
“Don’t you have a company to run? You are attracting attention here.”
She’s right. I want to make a snarky comment just to provoke her the way she does me so often, but I promised her I would never allow my celebrity status to impose on her personal life. She’d never be left alone if the media finds out we are related. I guess it’s a good thing we look nothing alike.
“Fine, I’ll go,” I say, getting up and glaring at my bratty younger sister. “But I wanted to tell you to go ahead with your Anti-Valentine’s Day scheme. The numbers Willow showed me were surprising.” I’d looked over the papers as I picked them upfrom the floor after Willow left the day before, more than a little impressed with everything she’d put together.
Nora jumps up and down, clapping and squealing with glee. I hold up a hand to stop her. “I’m giving you one shot, Nora. If I’m not blown away by the end-of-day reports, that’s it.” And just to show her that she isn’t the only one who can be a brat, I add, “You’ll personally be bringing me my morning coffee every day for a monthbeforethe shop opens if your crazy ideas don’t turn a profit.”
Nora wrinkles her nose in distaste, but says, “Fine. You’ll see, customers are going to love it, and you’re going to owe me an apology.”
I chuckle and drop a quick kiss to the top of her head before making my way to the door. I don’t get far before a hand on my arm stops me.
“You forgot your coffee.”
I turn to face Willow, and her cheeks are still red as she stares up at me. She doesn’t seem in a hurry to give me the coffee, and I don’t ask her for it.
“So, Valentine’s Day is in two days. Well, technically…I guess it’s Anti-Valentine’s Day…”
Her voice trails off, and she looks around nervously. People are staring at us, but unless they are listening to our conversation, our interaction looks like one between an employee and a customer who simply forgot his coffee.
“I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, Willow,” I say truthfully. Her face falls, and her hand drops from my arm, but I don’t let her back away from me.
