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She shrugs. Then, in true Mia fashion, she changes the subject. “Can you come to the café on Sunday? Jay wants to go over things with us, and then he’s handing over the managing responsibilities to me. You’ll like him,” she offers.
The memory of his glacier blue eyes surfaces. Ididlike him. And now I have a name to go with the eyes. Jay.
But knowing he’s another one of her boys, I’ll do my best to keep my distance from him going forward.
6
SHE’S SO HIGH BY TAL BACHMAN
JAY
“So, Catherine Hope Bouvier, tell me about yourself,” I say, sitting across from the brunette in my coffee shop while Mia mans the counter. Every now and again, I feel her eyes on us. On Cat. Her possessiveness is obvious, even from ten feet away.
“You mean your knowledge of my killer coffee skills isn’t enough?” she asks with a self-deprecating smile.
I almost spit out my coffee. “Yes, I’d prefer you not kill my customers, so be sure to study what Mia does.”
She shrinks a bit under my words, which was the opposite of my intention. “I’m just teasing.” I hold up my hands. “But yes, aside from your coffee skills, what else should I know?”
She scrutinizes me for several seconds. Probably wondering why the hell I want to know anything other than whether she can make a cup of coffee and what hours she’s available. Because those would be appropriate topics for discussion. Eventually, she shrugs and answers. “Not much to tell. I’m in my third year of college, studying marketing and fashion. I just transferred from NYU, and I need these shifts to cover what my scholarship doesn’t.”
Interesting tidbit. Based on her appearance, I assumed she came from money and just wanted to work to kill time and hang out with Mia. Her manicured nails are classy; she’s got perfectly arched eyebrows and tasteful highlights throughout her dark hair that fade perfectly, giving it an almost dark chocolate and swirled caramel look. And her lips? I would have sworn she added filler if they weren’t so perfect—the plumpness, the arch of her pout. Not to mention the fucking poise she carries herself with.
She’s as natural as they come. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised about her financial standings after all. Money couldn’t buy this kind of perfection. Although plenty have certainly tried.
“And your relationship with Mia—” I start, leaving the question hanging while I take a sip of coffee so I can study her reaction.
Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline, and she whips her head back to Mia, who is currently shooting daggers in my direction. I hold my coffee cup up to her and smile.
“What about it?” she stammers.
I look away from Mia and get lost for a moment in the brown eyes that are seriously starting to crumble my well-kept emotions. “I trust it won’t affect your job. I don’t want—”
She holds up her hand. “I don’t know what you think is going on, but she and I are roommates.” She’s glaring now. Damn, it’s hot. “And regardless, I would never act inappropriately in a professional setting,” she reprimands.
I deserve it. It’s unprofessional to ask about her relationship. I’m pushing buttons that are clearly markedWarning. They have warning bells beside them—they should be kept in a metal cage, and my fingers should be electrocuted when I go near them.
But I don’t give a fuck. I want answers, and I always get what I want. “Just your roommate?” I ask, leaning across the table on my elbows, a brow cocked in challenge.
Her eyes narrow and she holds my gaze. Then she stands up and stares me down.
Fuck.
The way her eyes ignite, the way she grips the back of the chair so forcefully her knuckles turn white. The fire that consumes her in that moment blazes through me too. “I can work Monday and Thursday mornings and any time on Sundays.”
I set my cup on the table and stand as well, holding out my hand. “And what do you do on Saturdays?” I ask, the double meaning clear in my question.
She sticks her hand in mine, and I pull her close. A sweet, flowery scent envelops me, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from inhaling.
Chin tilted up, she watches me, then studies our hands, my large one encasing hers. Her focus shifts again, like she can see something I haven’t quite figured out yet. “I sleep,” she replies.
I smile, having forgotten the question.
7
SUDDENLY I SEE BY KT TUNSTALL
CAT
