Page 22 of His Rules

Wait a minute.

Did I recognize that sexy voice?

“Hold on. I’m almost finished. God, the nerve of some people.” The statement must be coming from the girl still standing in front of the counter.

I shifted to the side just as she pivoted on her heel. And immediately splashed half her cup of coffee on the man’s shirt.

“What the fuck?” he growled. “Are you dense?”

His gruff voice pissed me off. “It was an accident,” I barked, moving out of line and stepping closer. Maybe I was just in a mood, but asshole men weren’t on the top of my list.

“It was an accident,” the girl echoed, her face turning bright red. “Here.” She grabbed a handful of napkins, trying to wipe the liquid off his shirt herself.

He snatched them from her hand and I’ll be damned if the jerk didn’t growl. Who growled when an accident happened?

“You need to be more careful or get a new job.”

No. He did not just say that.

“What is your problem?” My question was more of a demand as I jumped in front of his face. “The girl said she was…” My words died off as I tilted my head, more than ready for a confrontation.

Yet my blood turned icy even though a hot flash washed through me. Standing in front of me was the stranger I’d… Oh, God. I couldn’t even think it. How had I managed to sleep with a man who was such an obnoxious jerk? No, the better question was how had I managed to sleep with my father’s best friend who was also a colossal jerk?

Yes, he looked hot as Hades in his finely tailored suit, but that was no excuse for his holier than thou attitude.

“Sebastian,” I whispered, hoping the other two women hadn’t heard me.

“Kacey,” he said, low and slow, the sound sending electric jolts through my body.

My mouth was dry, my heart rate high. My luck just sucked as of late.

His hard, cold look softened a bit when he recognized who was accosting him. When his expression shifted into something much darker and more intimate, I did my best to keep the heat from rising to my cheeks. Instead, I planted my hands on my hips, prepared for a fight.

“You crowded her space,” I told him. “You’re to blame.” I had no idea what possessed me to poke him in the chest with my index finger, but it felt good.

Damn good.

He seemed shocked or miffed that someone would dare touch him. I honestly didn’t care which. You learned a lot about a person by the way he reacted to accidents. He should be wearing a capital ‘A’ on his chest for asshole.

His lips curled and it was difficult to tell if the flash in his eyes was about annoyance or desire. Either way, I just didn’t care.

“I think you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered.

“And I think you’re a jerk. Why don’t you do us all a favor and skedaddle out of here so good people can enjoy their Sunday morning peacefully.” Everyone else inside the coffee shop was wearing casual clothes. He was dressed as if heading to a wedding or a funeral.

And I seriously doubted he was on his way to church.

For a few seconds, we were frozen in time. Then he did something so unexpected I wasn’t certain how to react.

He stormed off, slamming his hand against the door as he headed outside.

I heard a few claps and the girl who’d spilled the coffee squeezed my arm.

“Thanks for that,” she said.

“Don’t worry, ladies. He’s always a jerk when he comes in,” the barista huffed.

I watched him walk away, the lights flashing on his fancy Italian sports car before he climbed inside.

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