Page 5 of The Runaway Bride's Vow

He raised his head. For the briefest of moments, their gazes connected. His eyes were dark and mesmerizing. Her stomach dipped. She could definitely lose herself in his eyes.

Realizing she was staring, she glanced away. Her cheeks burned. It felt as though a sunlamp had been turned on her face. What was wrong with her?

It wasn’t like she went around ogling guys. But there was something special about this guy. In fact, she couldn’t resist glancing up to take a second look at his broad shoulders and the gray T-shirt that clung to his bulging biceps. She swallowed hard. He was totally built.

When he glanced her way, she once more averted her gaze. Where was her coffee? Her foot lightly tapped the white-and-black tiled floor. She really needed to get going. She had things to do, and none of them had anything to do with ogling this stranger—no matter how attractive she might find him.

She reached for her phone. She might as well review the business emails while she waited. In all honesty, they didn’t need her attention at that particular moment, but it would keep her attention from veering off to the handsome stranger.

Was he still looking at her? She wanted to know so badly. Just one quick glance would give her the answer, but she refused to give in to the temptation. No way. She wasn’t getting caught staring at him again. It simply wasn’t going to happen. She’d already embarrassed herself enough for one morning.

“Grande, black with cream and sugar.” The barista placed the cup on the counter.

Brooke dropped her phone back into her purse. She reached for the cup. As her fingers wrapped around the cup, she felt the warmth of someone touching her hand. Confused, she lifted her gaze to find out whose hand was touching hers. Her gaze once more collided with those bottomless dark eyes.

She swallowed and then smiled at him. “Excuse me. You have my coffee.”

“I don’t think so. It’s you who has my coffee.” His deep voice was like a shot of espresso, a combination of bitterness and sweetness mixed to perfection.

She chose to ignore how much she enjoyed the sound of his voice as she continued to smile at him, hoping he’d do the same. There was no reason for them to be at odds.

Although, she wasn’t about to give up her coffee, not for him, not for anyone. She needed it so she could get moving. “I don’t think so. I placed my order before you.”

She wasn’t exactly certain of that, but she thought she’d stepped up to this counter before him. Hadn’t she?

She pulled on the cup, but he wouldn’t release his hold. The smile slipped from her lips as she continued to stare into his eyes. There was determination and frustration flickering in their dark depths. The man was certainly stubborn.

“Fine,” she said.

“Have it,” he said.

Their voices spoke over each other. At the same time, Brooke released her hold on the cup. This wasn’t worth fighting about.

Thud!

She glanced down to find the cup on the floor. The lid had come off, and the hot coffee was now all over the jeans and work boots of Mr. Grumpy Pants.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest. It sent a cascade of goosebumps racing down her arms.

Oh no! Her gaze lifted to meet his. His face filled with color as his dark brows were drawn together into a formidable line. She didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes were a shade darker now.

She could imagine how painful it must be to have steaming hot coffee spilled all over his legs. “Are you all right?” She fumbled around in her purse for her phone. “Should I call 9-1-1?”

“For what?” His words were clipped as he stared down at the mess.

“For you. The coffee… Did it burn you?”

“Your coffee didn’t burn me.”

Suddenly it was her coffee. Interesting. “I… I’m so sorry,” she stammered. “I thought you had it.”

“Obviously, I didn’t.” His voice was practically a growl.

She grabbed a fistful of paper napkins from the dispenser. She knelt down at the same time he did. Their heads bumped.

“Ow!” She pulled back. Boy was he hardheaded, literally and figuratively. She rubbed the tender spot. He didn’t let on that they’d collided. It must not have hurt his hard head.

The coffee had splashed on her white shoes, too, but she ignored them. She didn’t say a word as she reached out to help clean up the spilled coffee that was all over the lower portion of his pant legs and boots, which looked to be new.

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