AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And now that the sexy stranger is standing right next to me, I can smell his cologne. I don’t know much about men’s cologne, but I do know that whatever he’s wearing smells expensive and faintly like sandalwood—maybe? He smells like a section in Dillards that I can’t afford on my I-haven’t-quite-made-it-yet writer’s pay.
I steal a glance at him. His jawline is so sharp it could cut glass.
Play it cool, Callie.
“Thanks,” I finally manage to say.
“Yeah, anytime.” He smiles as his hazel eyes land on mine. They’re piercing—it’s as though he’s looking straight through me.
My heart stops for a second before restarting in triple time. I clear my throat and look away, doing my best to act unbothered, but I am not good at playing it cool. Especially around guys that look like him.
He looks like the kind of guy you don’t take home to your parents—the kind of guy that I write about. Except the fictional men in my books are secretly good guys beneath their tough, external shells—even though I don’t think it works that way in real life. Bad boys are usually just … bad.
I’m most likely not the first girl he’s randomly bought coffee for.
I give him the best smile I can manage, grab my drink, and head to my usual table in the back corner. Even though the coffee shop is mostly full, this table is still open. I swear all of the locals are in agreement that it’s my table.
I mean, I’m only here every single week.
I’d say that I’m single handedly keeping this place open, but I doubt my twenty dollars a week in lattes is responsible for keeping the lights on.
I make myself comfortable before bending down to pick up my laptop, figuring that the sexy man has gotten back on the road toward wherever he came from.
Nope.
I lift my head, and there he is, standing there, expectantly.
“Uh, hi,” I say, my eyes going wide. “I didn’t think that you...”
“Would you like me to leave?” he asks, appearing a bit taken aback. “I can go, I don’t wanna bother you.”
“No, stay,” I say quickly—maybe a little too quickly, based on the amused smile that flashes across his face. “I’m Callie,” I add, pushing a bunch of my messy auburn hair behind my ear, kicking myself for not wearing any makeup today or dressing up in something a little more presentable. I’m wearing my faded blue jeans and an awkward oversized sweater. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I look cute, but not close to this guy’s level.
“I’m Wade,” he says to me, spinning his cup around and around between his fingers. His eyes drop to his coffee for a minute before he looks back up at me, pursing his lips. “Do you know who I am?”
“Uh…” I hesitate, narrowing my eyes. “You look like the guy who was nice enough to pick up my pen—and buy my coffee?” I shrug, hoping the small nervous giggle escaping my lips lands the remark as humorous.
He smiles. “Perfect. That’s just what I was hoping to hear.”
I take a sip of my coffee, the ice already melting while I try to figure out what the heck he’s talking about. “Why is that?” I ask, setting the cup down on the table.
He leans forward, his face getting closer to mine, and I catch my breath—this man is gorgeous. “I’m Wade Lewis,” he whispers, seeming to physically brace for my reaction to his name.
“I’m Callie Walker.” I laugh, shrugging my shoulders. “I guess now we’re giving last names?”
He laughs—a deep, sweet laugh, causing my heart to flutter in my chest. “Google it.”
“What?” I say incredulously, though I start to giggle. “Are you like a serial killer on the run or something? Because if that’s the case, I think I’ll just call the cops right now.”
“Oh my gosh, just Google it.” His eyes are alight with pure amusement as he’s looking at me, and my whole body feels like it’s on fire under his gaze. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so much in the presence of a guy. And even then, I’ve pushed the memories of my high-school-sweetheart-turned-ex-husband, Nick, so far into the depths of my mind, that I can’t compare it anymore.
I pull out my phone and search his name, surprised that it’s the first suggestion as I type.
Probably just listening to my conversation—creepy Siri.
But the moment the page loads, my mouth drops. Wade Lewis was not just a recommendation because my phone was breaching my private conversation. No, Wade Lewis was a suggested search, because he’s a freaking billionaire-turned-rockstar.
Geez.
