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Decision made, I put down my cup. “First, I’m going to need another one-pump white mocha latte.” Thomas raises one eyebrow, and I suddenly get what Chase meant when he said Thomas always had a stick up his ass. “Hell,” I mutter at his judgey expression, “this calls for two pumps.”
Both eyebrows shoot up. “Um, okay. And second?”
“Second. Tell me how to help.”
27
CHASE
He’s touching her.
On her arm.
In our coffee shop.
Technically it’s Moore’s coffee shop, but ever since that day, I’ll always think of it as Bell’s and mine. Where we officially met. Where my nipples received third-degree burns at the hands of overpriced coffee. Where I saw her perfectly suckable nipples through her white shirt.
This café is ours, damn it. And he’s touching her in it.
A saleswoman smiles at me. I try to return the gesture, but it sends her scurrying away. I have a feeling my smile was more feral than friendly.
Attention back on the café, I see Thomas briefly squeeze Bell’s arm. Like he’s trying to reassure her or something. It’s a minute movement, but one I’m keenly aware of.
I love this store. But I’m not sure I love it enough to not burn the whole place down after witnessing my brother touching my girl in our café.
Especially after yesterday. I don’t like talking about my family. It makes me feel weak, and other unmanly things. But Bell hadn’t felt that way at all. In fact, I think she loved me even more for telling her about my fucked-up childhood. I’m not too proud to accept that. After all, it’s the first time my daddy issues ever did anything beneficial for me.
But why isn’t she walking away from him? Why is Bell even giving him the time of day after everything I told her? Is he trying to sweet-talk her? Bring her over to the dark side?
If the bastard thinks Bell is just one more thing he can take from me, he’s got another think coming.
I’m about to do something stupid when Thomas finally pulls his fucking hand away from her arm. He doesn’t even know how close he came to losing said fucking hand. Then being beaten in his perfect, smug face with it.
It would seem I’m feeling a tad violent today.
The small bit of relief from my brother’s pause in mauling my girlfriend is short-lived. Because then Bell goes and smiles at the bastard. It’s a small smile, but it’s aimed at my brother. Is it wrong that I want all of Bell’s smiles? They’re mine, damn it. And even if I don’t get all of them, Thomas damn well doesn’t deserve a single one.
“Mr. Moore?”
I jump back from the pillar I’m hiding behind, nearly falling on my ass. Collecting myself, I run a hand down the front of my shirt, like me being a Creeper McCreeperson is nothing overly concerning. “Yes, Raymond?”
“May I somehow be of assistance?” He glances over my shoulder to the café. I can tell the moment he sees Bell, as his left eyebrow rises the barest millimeter. “Perhaps I can procure you a coffee?”
Hoity-toity bastard. Who says procure, anyway?
His lips twitch, and if I didn’t know him to be such a well-mannered stick-in-the-mud, I’d swear he’s laughing at me.
“No, no. Just, ah, making sure I don’t have something in my teeth.” I pretend to check my appearance in the small mirror perched on a counter to my right. That isn’t anywhere near the pillar I was huddled against.
Whatever. I’m the boss. I can act sketchy if I want.
Raymond takes a long, bored look at me before deigning to reply. “Indeed.” Then the way-too-perceptive man sniffs, actually sniffs like an old English butler of yore, before inclining his head.
“Then I guess I should inform you that your father, ah, stormed through the store about twenty minutes before you arrived.”
“Fuck.”
“Quite.” He glances at the few early-morning customers browsing the floor. “I believe Mr. Moore Senior is awaiting you in your office.” He gives me a knowing look. “George was most displeased not to have been at his desk at the time of his arrival.”
