I Just Want You(7)

I scan her chest for a nametag and come up empty. However, I do get a feel from the outline or her apron that she is more than a handful.

Damn paperwork!

She reaches out to hand me the change and my eyes lock with hers. "Keep the change. . . ." I let my words hang in the air, waiting for her to take the bait and give me her name.

"Berklee," she says, never breaking eye contact.

Berklee. I let her name roll around in my head. It's hot as fuck. "Berklee." I caress her name with my tongue, I had to see how it sounded. "Keep the change." Reaching out, I fold her fingers around the money if for no other reason than to touch her. I'm just torturing myself, but her skin is so damn soft. It's worth it. "See you around, Berklee." I grab my cup and turn to leave. If I don't go right now, I won't. She's too damn tempting, that one.

I make my way back to the club and settle in for the long haul. I have to keep my eye on the goal: opening before Halloween. Then maybe, just maybe, if the sexy little Berklee is still there we can get to know each other better, or at least intimately.

The grin never leaves my face as I bury my nose in paperwork for the night.





OF COURSE HE would have to stop in at the end of the day. He could not have been there earlier and given me the day to fantasize and get it out of my system. Now I'm going to be distracted tonight.

I need to snap out of it. I had given up hope that he would ever step foot through those doors again. I had myself convinced that he was just in the area, and that was that.




 

 

As I drive home, I'm caught up in him and those dark chocolate eyes, and the ink. I want to strip him of his shirt and see just how far up his arm those tattoos go. Nothing wrong with a little fantasy to keep a girl . . . motivated. Yes, we'll go with motivated. It's not far off since his face is what's single-handedly had me reaching for my vibrator every night this week.

The condo is quiet when I arrive home. I can hear the shower running in between Maggie's and my room. We share, with connecting doors. Barry has his own, and we have a half bath for guests. Quietly, I shut and lock my door. I make sure the bathroom door is locked from my side and tap the screen of my phone to pull up some music. Carefully, as if someone might be watching, I slide open the nightstand drawer and reach for B.O.B. Settling on the bed with the lowest setting, I let myself get lost in the image of Mr. Super Sexy Beard. I didn't have enough wits about me to ask his name in return today. No, instead I just stared, memorized his features, which brings me to now. It doesn't take long, like I knew it wouldn't.

As soon as I drop B.O.B back in the nightstand, Maggie knocks on my bedroom door.

"Berklee, shower's free," she says.

"Thanks," I call back, trying like hell not to sound like I just got off. Then I would have to explain what got me in this mess at five thirty in the evening. Maggie and I tell each other everything, but our families will be with us tonight, and well, she and I don't really have much of a filter. I want this fantasy-because let's face it, that's what it is-to be all mine.

Needing a shower, I rush through, soaping up all the important parts and then quickly washing my hair. I'm lucky to have natural waves so some mousse and a diffuser for about ten to fifteen minutes and I'm good to go. I'm pretty low maintenance. Besides, it's a high school football game; who there do I need to impress?

"Ready," I say, walking into the kitchen. Maggie is sitting at the small island eating.

"Made you a plate." She points beside her to a plate of spaghetti and garlic bread.

I take a seat and dive in, suddenly famished. I grin, thinking of how I worked up an appetite.

"What's got you grinning like the cat that ate the damn canary?" she asks.

"Nothing really. Just had a good day, I guess."

"Did he come back?" she asks, abandoning her fork for her bottle of water, all ears.

I hesitate at first. I can keep the part where he was checking me out and basically what felt like eye-fucking me to myself. I won't tell her about what the touch of his hand on mine did to me. That's a story for another time. "Yeah, he was back. Right before my shift ended." 

"Did you get his name?"

"No, I didn't really think about it. He was in and out, just his usual order and then he was gone."

"Usual, huh?" She leans in.

"You know what I mean." I laugh. "So far he's ordered the same thing both times. Black coffee, extra-large."

"Damn! Next time you need to sneak a picture, or at least get his name so we can google his ass and maybe do some social media investigating."

"Right, because taking a picture of him while making his coffee is not going to throw up red flags. Come on, Mags."