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Layla
The man behind the counter leans on his elbows and smiles at me. I can smell his stale coffee breath and it makes me feel sick. There are little chunks of food in his greasy, black beard.
“That’s the man you wanna talk to,” he says, nodding his head towards the corner booth. “But if I was you, I’d turn around right now, Missy. He ain’t one for strangers.”
“Well,” I say, stepping back and sticking my chin in the air, “I guess it’s lucky I’m not you, then.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” He slaps his cloth over his shoulder and turns back to his work.
I look at the man he pointed out. Although, ‘man’ doesn’t quite seem the right word. Bear would be more appropriate. Giant. Mountain. Goliath.
He’s sitting in a booth, but somehow, his massive frame makes it look like he’s sitting in a dollhouse.
“Oh, my,” I say under my breath. Not only is he huge, but he’s also the best-looking person I’ve ever seen in all my life.
He has one of those wide, square jaws. A cheeky dimple in the middle of his chin, covered in thick, dark stubble. His green eyes seem to shine from within his sun-darkened face.
I take a moment to straighten my hair. Push down my t-shirt. Make sure my bra’s sitting just right.
There’s a tingling in my panties I haven’t felt for a long time. Not since I swore off men and dedicated my life to my career.
A quick look at my reflection in the window beside me tells me I’m about as good as I’m ever going to get.
I shouldn’t have eaten those damn doughnuts,I think.My stomach looks like I’ve just swallowed a balloon!
Slowly, I walk towards his table. I don’t want to seem like I’m in a rush. I can feel all the eyes of the customers and the staff on me. But, the man in the booth doesn’t even raise his eyes. He lifts a cup of coffee from the table and takes a small sip. The whole time, reading his book. Turning the page with a well-practiced flick of his gigantic finger.
“Dostoyevsky?” I say when I’ve finally reached his table. “Impressive.”
He doesn’t even so much as raise his eyes to look at me. “I am so glad I have gained your approval,” he says. “I can’t wait to get home and write that in my journal… right next to the consistency and size of my latest bowel movement.”
I sit down. Not taking no for answer is part of my job. “I hear you’re the man that can take me up to Bellamy’s Bluff.”
“There’s a lot of things I am capable of doing.” He folds the corner of the page he’s reading and closes his book. Placing it carefully beside his coffee. When he looks at me, it’s like all the blood in my body rushes to my head. My heart starts beating fast and my vision goes blurry. I feel like I’m about to faint. “It’s whether I’ll do them that is the question.”
“I’ll pay you,” I croak. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
He leans forward. His thick, pink lips only about a foot from my own. I want to lean forward and kiss him. Run my fingers through his hair and surrender my body to his touch. “Oh, thank the heavens,” he chuckles, “a city girl has arrived with money in her pocket. Now I’ll be able to put food on my table and stave off starvation for the long, hard winter.”
“Are you always this much of a jerk?” The words slip from my lips before I realize I’m saying them. So much for diplomacy!
He sits back and looks at me from behind thick, dark eyelashes. His huge biceps crossed over his chest. There’s a look of newfound respect on his face. Apparently, he likes it when I’m sassy. Which is good, because I’m sassy most of the time.
“Are you always this much of a pain in the ass?” he says. “You’ve only been here a minute and you’ve already managed to insult me three times.”
“For a man so big, you sure are sensitive.”
He smiles. Perfect, straight teeth gleam at me. The dimple on his chin is joined by two more on either side of his mouth. His eyes light up. Brighter than before. My pussy trembles with desire.
“Maybe I’m just the kind of man who prefers to enjoy his breakfast in peace.” He bites his lip and strokes his chin with his fingers. “But, I guess, if anything is going to interrupt my morning meal, it might as well be someone as easy on the eye as you are.”
I literally beam with pleasure at his compliment. My cheeks burn pink. A server comes to the table with an order pad in her hand and asks us if we’re ready to order. I try to remember that I’m here on business, and not to get picked up by impossible sexy mountain men who read 19th-century Russian literature for breakfast.
“How about I buy you something to eat?” I say. “Maybe we can come to a… mutually acceptable arrangement.”
I put out my hand. He shakes it. I can feel the strength in his muscles even from the slightest of touch.
