Page 23 of Empowered
“I see.” Would his happy-go-lucky smilego away?“Not even a dance?”
She said nothing as she backed away from the bar and took herself home.
***
Why did I have that drink? Why did I eat that pizza?
More importantly, why was she now drinking a latte?
Because PMS was a bitch and made her imbibe things that would make her PMS bloat five times worse. The screwed up thing was how much it felt like a self-inflicted punishment. Like she deserved to no longer fit in her jeans because she dared to bleed every month.
One thing her brother never had to deal with. Bastard.
Sarah didn’t often give herself this kind of breathing room on her weekends, but the apartment was too claustrophobic, and she had no desire to go out shopping or meet up with supposed friends. Across the street from her apartment building was a quaint, well-lit coffee shop that saw an equal amount of friends and solo techies setting up their laptops to work. Sarah belonged to neither group. She had brought her cell phone and a book to keep her occupied for a couple of hours.
The book wasn’t that great. The cell phone was full of dating apps she used purely for hooking up with men. She hadn’t peeked at it in a while, since the kind of guy she liked to screw wasn’t often found on there.
No, the kind of guy she liked to screw was coming in through the front door.
Since his eyes instantly settled on her by the far wall, Sarah had no choice but to assume the man was stalking her. There was no other reason for Lucas Blackbourne to walk into that café – alone.
Nor did he have any right to wear those tight jeans and that fitted black T-shirt that outlined his torso and biceps like they were part of the most delectable buffet Sarah could ask to smash her face into.
Lucas removed his sunglasses the moment Sarah saw him. That was not a smile he wore, but it also wasn’t shock.
Sarah flipped her book shut and grabbed her purse. Lucas abandoned the line he signed himself up for and approached her table.
“So this is what you look like in your civies?”
Don’t make eye contact.“Could say the same to you, Mr. Blackbourne.”
“Please. Luke. Only my mother and business associates call me Lucas.”
I will not call him that.That’s what she called the man she hooked up with a week ago. “Don’t bother sitting down,” she said as he pulled out the chair across from her. “I’m leaving.”
“Then you’ve saved this table for me. My thanks.” He watched her put her book and phone away. “Have I done something to offend you, Ms. Clayborn?”
Would her boss get mad if she told Lucas to fuck off?
“I am not offended. I really must be going. You’re welcome to use this table if you buy something, I’m sure.”
He glanced at her latte. “You haven’t even finished your drink.”
“Don’t have time.” She stood, purse in hand.
Lucas picked up the mug by the handle. Those ferocious blue eyes never once abandoned her as she struggled to leave as quickly as possible. “Would be a shame to let it go to waste.”
He drank it. The freakdrankthe rest of her latte.
“Do as you please, Mr. Blackbourne.”
“I often do, Angel.”
She froze midmotion.
“I knew it.” Lucas put the mug down and leaned forward, voice lowering to ensure only she could hear him. “I knew it was you.”
Sarah was going to be sick. She fumbled with the dirty dishes before giving up taking them to the bussing station. Her breath? It was long gone from her ever-tightening chest.
