Page 13 of Mr. Flirt

No wonder she wanted to come here. She’s got the hots for the tattooed foam maker. I rolled my eyes. If that were her taste, I was doomed. There wasn’t an ounce of ink on my flesh. I had blue eyes, dirty blond hair, and for living in Seattle, I’d managed to maintain a tan.

And the fact that I was even listing off my attributes to myself while waiting for a woman who was completely baffling and hated my guts told me I was in trouble.

I didn’t need to wind up like my best bud and his new wife, Skylar. Dating was a slippery slope. It was great to have fun and get to know the other person, but it should be about the journey, not the destination, which to most women I met meant marriage.

The destination was always marriage.

But maybe Lucy would be so infuriated with me, she’d decide to sleep with me out of anger and…no, that didn’t make any sense.

Watching Lucy swoop her hands into the air, laughing and swinging her hair around as she reached for her latte from the barista made my chest tighten a little. Would I ever be able to get a reaction like that out of her? I scowled at myself.

Why did I care?

She spun around with the cup in her hand as I stood to wave her down. When her eyes connected with mine, her carefree expression dropped, but she didn’t charge out of the coffeeshop. Instead, she tore toward me, and the only thing shielding me was the table.

I held my head up high and started to pull out a chair for her.

“Off to a great start,” I mumbled to myself.

“It’s okay. I got it.” She nearly ripped the chair away from me as she simultaneously set her cup down on the table.

Lucy folded her arms over her chest and glared at me.

“What are you doing here?”

I scratched my head and eyed her as she brought the white mug to her mouth. A little edge of foam traced her lips, and I briefly thought about what it might be like to kiss her. I ripped my gaze away from her mouth as her eyes landed on mine.

“I’m glad you didn’t throw the coffee on me.” I grimaced.

“I’m a lawyer. I know better.”

“I never did get the red wine out of my shirt from that night.”

Lucy continued to stare at me as the sound of a coffee grinder buzzed through the air. When it stopped, I continued.

“Glad you could make it.” I looked around the place.

“I’ve been tricked.” She licked the foam from her mouth but refused to remove her gaze from mine.

It was a challenge. Lucy was warning me.

I glanced around the space. “I’ve never heard of this spot.”

Lucy smiled, and I about fell off my chair. Her smile was disarming yet enchanting. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

A grin slid across my face. “What does that mean? You don’t think I fit their typical clientele?”

She ignored my question. “I always hung out here when I was in law school, and the place stuck. It feels like home.” She pointed toward the fireplace. “I can’t even begin to tell you how many briefs I read in that chair the weird-looking guy is in.”

My gaze found the person she was talking about, and I hid a smile. The guy looked like he could be my brother, minus the outfit. I was more of a jeans kind of guy, and that one over there liked to dress up.

“It’s not very nice to call someone weird-looking.” I smiled, and she tightened her eyes at me in a challenge.

“It’s the middle of winter, and the guy looks like he hits a tanning bed every morning before sunup. His teeth are so white, they are translucent, and I’m surprised glitter isn’t falling out of his eyes since they’re so sparkly.” She shrugged. “Plus, his tie matches his socks.”

My gaze ran along the stranger’s pant legs, and sure enough, his socks did match his tie, and I would imagine finding purple paisley socks to match your purple paisley tie wasn’t easy.

“I’ll try to remember not to be too matchy-matchy around you if I want to impress you.” I grinned, and she cocked her head slightly.

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