Page 5 of Honey, Honey
She winked at me. “You got it, boss man.”
I gave another grunt and kept moving. I shouldered through the crowd that was now falling back into motion, the earlier scene and my nearly pulling a barista over the counter and into my arms already old news, and finally fucking made it onto the sidewalk.
It was only then that I let my weak ass look back at Honey. She was already waiting on another customer, a smile curving her lips. I took a sip of my coffee and winced at the unforgiving temperature of the drink. I swallowed it down and kept watching her for another minute before she looked up at me.
Our eyes met and I felt the pull between us again. It didn’t matter that there was a counter, a crowd of people and a whole damn door between us. The pull was there, and I knew she felt it too. Which is why I turned on my heel and started walking.
Nothing good would come out of me tasting Honey.
Chapter Two
HONEY
“Hey, when the fuck did you get engaged?”
I blinked and looked up from the cappuccino foam I was making. “What?” I asked, shutting the milk wand off and turning to look at Tiffany, who was glaring at me with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Don’t you ‘what’ me,” she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the door. “Where’s the rock that big man gave you?”
“What rock?” I looked over her shoulder where she was still jerking her thumb and had to swallow down the disappointment I felt when I didn’t see the man she was talking about.
My fiancé.
We’d locked eyes after he’d stepped out of the coffee shop. After he’d saved my ass from whatever today’s Karen was ready to unleash on me. I knew he’d seen me watching him, and that he had looked right back at me before he’d stormed off. When he’d paid for his coffee and taken it from Tiffany I hadn’t so much as seen him slow in his steps on the way out the door. But that look on the sidewalk? I knew I had seen it, and that it had as much interest in it as mine had, even if he didn’t much seem like he wanted to be in the shop.
He had looked tired. Haggard even. Like he hadn’t had a good night sleep in a week or more. His clothes were impeccable, even if I could see the fatigue on him. None of that really took away from how handsome he was. He was a big man, dark hair peppered with silver that was thick and lush but cropped close. The silver that threaded through his hair might have made some men reach for a box of hair dye, but on him? No. On him it worked, on him it looked well earned, hinting at the life experience he possessed. That dark and silver paired perfectly with his eyes, eyes the color of blue that looked like the expensive bottled water sold in all the shops I worked in, the kind that I couldn’t afford so I drank tap. And fuck, his cheekbones and jawline? The man was all sharp angles and chiseled bone structure, even if his nose was slightly crooked, the look of a body part that had been broken once or twice. I could see tattoos on his hands, thick inky lines that covered the backs of his hands and disappeared beneath the sleeve of his expensive coat. There were the telltale lines poking up and over the crisp collar of his dress shirt which told me he was probably covered in tattoos.
A man like that might scare some. His bulk, height and demeanor pushing them away, but me? I found him beautiful. I’d give my right eye to see the art on his chest. It had to be gorgeous. Just like him.
My chest tightened and I swallowed hard knowing I was blushing just thinking about the man’s bare chest. Remembering how his cerulean eyes had dropped to mine when I had...well, I don’t really know what the hell I had been doing when I greeted him. I didn’t flirt at work. Not ever. It wasn’t smart to shit where you ate–even if where I ate changed daily. I didn’t like taking chances like that but the second I had laid eyes on him I knew he was different.
This man woke something up in me. Something I kept a very tight hold on in normal circumstances but that had come tumbling right out of me the damn second our eyes met. I’d wanted him to come close and grab me. His hands firm and warm on my body, to drag me close and shove me over the counter before he slipped his hand down the front of my jeans, strong fingers sliding down to cup my pussy. My nipples ached thinking about the day dream that had suddenly forced itself back in my brain.
All of that had led to me greeting him with a little more enthusiasm than I normally did. I might have pushed my tits up too. I frowned. That damn blonde had gotten in the way because she’d seen the same thing I had in him. She’d seen it and didn’t like that he’d noticed me, so she’d done her best to get in the way.
I got it.
I mean it sucked, because it was real shitty how she did it. But I understood what happened when a man like that was suddenly in front of you. You’d do crazy things for a man like that. So the blonde has shown her hand. Too bad for her it’d been the wrong play, but even still–I understood her motivation to act.
There was a certain elegance to a man that looked like he could take you apart and have you begging for him to keep going with each and every piece that you lost to him. He’d scoop up the broken parts of you that had fallen to the floor and take them with him, filling his pockets with you on his way out and leaving you alone and wanting more.
The fucked up thing was he probably didn’t even notice the effect he had on women. A man like that was in his own world.
But even still….
If this were a romance book he would come back and smile at me. He’d had a terrific smile. One that warmed his whole face up and made him look years younger. He would stroll up to the counter while I tried to pretend I hadn’t been staring after him and he'd slip his number, printed on fancy card stock and he would ask me to dinner. All of this would make our meet cute. A story we would laugh over at dinner, regrettable but ultimately so perfect because it had brought us together. He'd kiss me goodnight after a lovely evening and we would date. Everyone that saw us would just know we belonged together. An unlikely pair thatjust fit.
But because this wasn’t a romance book he didn’t come back. Shit like that didn’t happen to women like me. This was real life.
The sidewalk was empty save for a nanny and toddler scurrying past holding hands, their heads bowed and collars upturned from the morning chill. I sighed, turning back to the cappuccino foam in front of me and hoped that Tiffany wouldn’t see my face.
“Uh, don’t “what rock me”, you little secret keeper. I’m talking about the rock you’re not wearing on your hand. Letting all of us know you’re gonna marry that hunk-o-burning love.” She jerked a finger towards my hand as I poured foam into a cup and only when I had placed it on the counter and called out, “Dry cappuccino for Aaron!” Did she snatch my left hand and give it a shake.
“Where is the rock?!”
“You keep saying that, but I honestly don’t—“
She shook my hand at my face. “He said you were his fiancée. Don’t play with me. He told all of us you were his fiancée,” she said, gesturing out towards the cafe that was full of customers looking our way curiously, if discreetly. “I bet they tell page six about this.”
