Page 9 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One
“It’s cutting into my reading time, so it’d better be.”
“Did you finish the book you were reading last week?”
She sighs. “No. Normally, I can get through a book in a day or two, but…” She pauses again, like she’s choosing her words carefully. “Life just hasn’t been very conducive to that lately, I suppose.”
“Hmm. I hope that changes. It sounds like a good book.”
“Oh, it is. Last in the series, so everything is so tense.”
Ell nods. “I know how that is.”
She perks up. “You like fantasy?”
“Oh, helovesit,” Oliver chimes in. “Fantasy, classics, murder mysteries, thrillers. Even the occasional horror book. He’s got a whole library at home.”
Wren’s eyes go wide. “Really?”
“Really,” Elliot says with a warm smile. “Complete with a comfy reading chair and a little table to put my coffee on.”
“Oh mygod.That’s every bookworm’s dream.”
“I wish I had more time to use it, but as you said… life hasn’t been very conducive to it lately.”
“Oh, that’s so sad.” Wren’s look of wonder fades into one of sympathy. “I… I hope you’re able to read more soon, too.”
“Thank you.”
“Um—” She clears her throat, her gaze lingering on Elliot for an extra second before landing on me. “And for you?” She’s fiddling with her name tag with one hand while her other hovers just above the register’s screen. “Same as last week?”
I open my mouth, but my reply gets stuck in my throat. We’ve been here once—once.This woman deals with countless people each week, so why the fuck does she remember my order? There was nothing memorable about it.
Oliver elbows me in the ribcage, and the pain is enough to jostle me from my daze.
“Yes,” I say gruffly.
Idiot.
There’s a small pause before Wren’s eyes drop to the screen. “Got it.”
Once we’ve paid, Oliver steps toward the stools at the counter, but I slide my arm around his shoulders and guide him toward a table near the front of the store.
“Wha—Rhett, I want to sit—”
“I can’t,” I tell him, and I kick myself for how rough my voice still sounds.
I don’t want to fuck this up any further.
“Oh,” Oliver says softly. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just crowded and loud, and I’m worried I’ll—”
“It’s okay.” He places a reassuring hand on my chest and gives me a small smile. Disappointment is still shining in his eyes, even though he’s trying to hide it, and it guts me.
We settle in at a table near the windows. The morning sunlight is still soft, and it casts the whole place in a warm glow. Add in the plants, the art, and the brick walls, and the place has a welcoming feel to it. I’m just… overwhelmed.
Even though I’m facing away from her, Wren’s face flashes in my mind—the way her smile widened when she looked at me, and then the way it wavered when I spoke. I didn’t mean to be rude, my voice just… came out that way.
A hand on my shoulder makes me jump, and Elliot instantly pulls away, grimacing.
