“It’s her, Cody,” Heath whispered as he sat back down. “It’s her.”
Cody nodded but his jaw was set. “Chill. What are we going to do? Go up to her while she’s talking to Cassie and start hitting on her in front of the whole shop? We know she’s the one but I guarantee you she doesn’t realize that. A little subtlety is called for.”
“I know, but…it’s her. I don’t want to let her out of my sight.”
Spencer seldom ever saw Heath this serious. He was usually the kidder in their trio.
A smile spread on Cody’s lips as he turned and watched the brunette in question. Cassie was saying something to her, a bright smile on her face, and the brunette nodded and laughed. A sweet shiver raced down Spencer’s spine at the musical sound. The sensation settled deep in his pelvis at the very root of what made him a man and he felt drawn to her like a magnet.
He rested an elbow on the table and placed his chin in his palm so he could watch her chat. The lingering, burning sensation at his crotch and the coffee spilled on the table was ignored, if not completely forgotten. She lifted a hand and brushed her curls back from her left shoulder and he could see the graceful way her hand moved, caressing back the wild curls before she unconsciously stroked the back of her neck. He imagined her stroking him like that.
He heard a soft groan and when the guys glanced at him he realized the sound had come from him. He took a sip of his over-sweetened coffee, cringed, and set it aside, no longer needing it. He was wide-awake now.
Cassie brought a paper bag and tray of coffees to the brunette and Spencer hoped like hell that the other coffee wasn’t for her man. He didn’t see a wedding band on her left hand and hope surged. Her hips swiveled just a bit as she turned from the counter and for a split second, she made eye contact with him across the room. Her eyes were the color of honey.
The eye contact could’ve taken two seconds or two hours. He wasn’t sure. But he was sure of one thing. Heath had been right. She was his. Theirs.
She looked away and walked toward the door and then cast him another glance, her cheeks now blushing prettily. Her coloring was exotic, beautiful, but there was something familiar about her that reminded him of someone else, he just couldn’t pinpoint who. He climbed from the booth.
Cody said, “Don’t chase after her. You’ll scare her.”
Spencer was already moving toward the exit. He paused with his hand on the door handle when he noticed her look back as she crossed the parking lot, running through the misty rain with her hands full.
“Damn, she’s gonna fall if she keeps running,” Spencer said as he watched every step she took on the wet asphalt in those high heels, praying she didn’t.
Cody clapped a hand on both of their shoulders. “Let her get her car unlocked. She’ll feel safer.”
“Look what she drives, man,” Spencer said as she approached the old red VW Bug. “Those old Bugs are really bad about hydroplaning on wet roads.”
She unlocked the door and Cody pushed open the coffee shop door and slowly started toward her as she put the bag of food and tray of coffees in the passenger seat. She squinted back at them through the misting rain before she opened her bright red umbrella and palmed something from her purse.
Good girl.
They didn’t rush up on her but she still kept her eyes on them as she walked around to the driver’s door and unlocked and opened it. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” He could hear the fear and uncertainty in her voice as she flicked an up-and-down glance at him.
Spencer looked at Heath and Cody and then down at himself and smiled. They were all dressed the same, in ratty jeans, old T-shirts, and worn-out sneakers. And thanks to Mr. Fisty-Grip, what they had on was now coffee-stained. Probably not the best impression they could make. She continued staring at them, waiting for an answer, and Spencer wondered if she’d made Cody, the usual spokesman of their trio, as tongue-tied as she made him.
Chapter Three
The butterflies went ballistic in Maizy’s stomach as they stood there gazing at her. The mist slowed and she shivered as a breeze blew through the parking lot in direct contrast to the wave of heat that rose up inside her as if she were wrapped in her mother’s electric blanket.
Her finger caressed the button on the pepper spray canister. She hoped like hell she didn’t have to use it because these three looked too good—too hot—to be true. Any one of them was way-out-of-her-league gorgeous but all three of them together, staring at her like that, was downright overpowering. What did they want? And why were they dressed like bums?
Am I being Punk’d? She darted a glance around for a cameraman but the parking lot was empty except for the cars parked in front of the coffee shop. Then she glanced at her watch.