Page 22 of To Catch A Rook

Wouldn’t be a bad way to go, really. I wasn’t above degrading myself for a good bit of fun.

I waited another minute until she’d walked into Juice Junkies, then crossed the street myself, weaving through a car or two to make sure I timed it just right. I took out my cellphone and dialed my voicemail before walking through the glass door that dinged upon my entrance.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that.” I spoke into the phone and checked my watch as if I was pressed for time. “That works for me. Okay, slan.”

I hung up and looked down at my phone, opening my text messages to start typing.

“Lucky?”

Bingo.

I paused and brought my gaze up to meet hers. Hillary Lane, goddess of my dreams, stared back at me. A smirk played on her hot pink lips, and my dick twitched to attention in my tight trousers.

Play it cool, Lauch.

“Oy, Blondie.” I feigned surprise and looked around the empty juice bar—fitting, because who the fuck wanted to drinkthe blood of carrots?—and allowed a playful grin to smile back. “Don’t tell me you’re a health nut too?”

Her gaze wandered up my torso; I dressed in my most expensive suit today—perfectly tailored around my broad shoulders and trim waist, in a navy that was definitely my color. I don’t do ties, so the top collar was unbuttoned lazily, something I learned was very appealing to the opposite sex. The same sex too, if we were going by my track record.

“You don’t strike me as the ‘health-nut’ type.” Those sky-blue eyes stared through me in mocking humor, and I laughed easily.

“You got me.” I grinned ruefully and pointed to the ‘frozen yogurt’ ad that had popped up across the rolling TV screen. “I’m here for that.”

That, at least, wasn’t a lie. I’d already eaten my bowl of Fruity Pebbles—one of my favorite parts of America so far was the wide selection of sugar cereals—and I’d round it out with some fro-yo. Nothing like a balanced breakfast.

Her eyes widened in surprise, followed by a very ‘unladylike’ snort. Fuck me, I liked that sound from her lips.

“I’m still concerned you’re secretly a twelve-year-old boy underneath all of that muscle,” she said, as she turned back to the counter to make her order. “I’ll go with a ‘Green Grenade,’ this morning, Timothy. I’ll add some wheatgrass and an extra shot of protein powder.”

Timothy, the barely twenty-something smoothie slinger, nodded and stared at Hillary with stars in his eyes as she bent her head to check a notification ding on her phone.

Don’t blame ya, mate. She’s my fantasy too.

She turned to wave me over to the register. “Put his order on my bill too, please.”

“Some men don’t like women to buy things for them.” I was teasing, but briefly scanned the menu. I didn’t care what I was ordering, but I’d get something, anyway. “I, however, have no ego when a beautiful woman wants to buy me breakfast.” I shot her a cheeky wink before deciding. “Chocolate with skittles topping, mate.”

You’d have to be a boat away to not see the look of disgust on both of their faces. Like eating that was any worse than a Starbucks ‘whipped cream, sugar pumps, flavor this’ shyte.

Ol’ Timmy handed Hillary her swamp-water cocktail and then made my delicious, flavorful snack. I beckoned toward a neon green and orange booth at the back.

“Got time for a seat?”

After a quick check of her watch, she dipped her head and followed as I led us over to the quiet corner. The space was still empty, because the good people of Carlisle valued their tastebuds this time of morning.

She slid across the bench looking decidedly out of place, but she managed to settle into the vinyl cushion like she belonged there. I unbuttoned my suit jacket and tucked myself into the narrow seat opposite, feeling a bit like the Hulk at a children’s supper table.

“Bite?” I offered her the clean spoon, holding it between us in challenge. Little Miss Billionaire Boss could join me in a sugar rush, or keep to her disgusting sludge routine.

“A taste for a taste,” she replied, those feisty little eyes narrowing in on my lips.

A taste for a taste would be averysatisfying trade this morning. Then she placed her cup of slop in front of me.

My smile melted into a grimace. “Always a tit for a tat with you, eh?”

The devilish twitch of her mouth made me want to dive into all kinds of challenges with her, but today was about a tease, a taste in its own right.

So, I’d play the game.

---