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He writes her name on a Post-it next to his keyboard. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I smile and see myself out, blowing out a sigh of relief. Without his help, it’ll be tricky, but I’m determined to get Cat to open up to me.
* * *
I findmy opportunity on Sunday morning. Cat is wiping down tables and humming to herself when I walk into the café. She looks up at me, expression neutral, and then goes back to her task. Burn.
Mia must be in the back because the counter is empty and only one table is occupied. “Your nose looks better,” she mutters when I amble over to her, but she keeps her attention fixed on the rag in her hand and the table in front of her.
I stand closer than necessary and watch her, doing my best to force her to interact with me. But she doesn’t bite. No friendly greeting, no acknowledgement.
“No iPod today?” Dammit. Clearly, I don’t know how to beat around the bush. To be fair, I’ve never had to work this hard for someone’s attention. There is something to be said for the chase, I suppose.
She points to her pocket, drawing my attention to the little silver device peeking out of her jeans. Of course, now I can’t help but take in the tanned skin of her stomach she exposes when she leans forward and stretches her arm out to clean the far end of the table. Though I’m spellbound by our proximity and her movements, she has no trouble continuing to ignore me.
“Can I see it?” I ask. “I’m thinking of getting one. How does it work?”
She turns around, amusement dancing in her eyes. A smirk curls her lips, and she tips her chin up to regard me. Even though she’s tall, probably five-eight, she’s forced to look up to make eye contact, which makes me stupidly satisfied.
With her hand on her hip, she quips, “Youdon’t have an iPod?”
“Why do you say it like that?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest and affecting a casual stance.
She shakes her head and closes her eyes for a second. “Nothing. Have at it.” She pulls the iPod from her pocket and holds it out.
I smirk as I take it from her, enveloping her hand in mine and holding on for a few beats too many. She raises her brows, her expression screamingunimpressed, and I grin right back. She can pretend I don’t affect her all she wants, but the way her breath hitches and her lips part tells a different story. She isn’t as immune as she’d like me to believe.
“Thanks, Kitten,” I murmur, finally letting go of her hand and taking her iPod with me to a table in the corner. “Can you grab me a latte?” I ask, knowing the more complicated drink will keep her attention for a few minutes.
She gives me the most adorable glare. “You know my name is Cat, right?”
I smirk and continue with my task. Connecting to the Wi-Fi in the café, I log into her iTunes account and get to work. By the time she returns with my drink—not a latte but a regular coffee—I’ve plugged my earbuds in, and I’m scrolling through her music.
“All set with that?” she says, waving at the device with her open hand.
I shake my head like I can’t hear her and just smile.
With annoyance and determination, she rips the earbud from my left ear and tips closer. “I said,” she grits out, “are you done?”
I smirk. “Never would have pegged you for a Backstreet Boys fan. You seem like an NSYNC girl to me.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t bother to respond, and with one hand propped on a hip, she holds the other out, palm up.
“Thanks for the coffee,” I say as I press the iPod to her warm palm, then pick up the paper cup and take a sip.
I wince, garnering a smile from the savage barista.“Taste okay?” she asks with over-the-top concern.
It’s disgusting.
“Delicious,” I bite back.
Being kind isn’t getting me anywhere with her. I grab my coffee, and with a wave, I’m gone.
11
POKER FACE BY LADY GAGA
CAT
