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Oh, hell no!
I might be a lot of things, but asshole is not one of them. This douchebag is an asshole.
“Summer,” I say, assuming her name is Summer because that’s what he called her. It feels like honey on my tongue and it’s perfect for her, bright, warm, with the promise of a heat that would burn you if you let it. “Your place is great. Creating something on your own as beautiful as this from nothing, instead of jumping on the corporate ladder and kissing whatever ass is put in front of you. That’s accomplishment. You must be proud.”
I know her eyes are now on me, wide and surprised. But I don’t look at her, I’m burning a hole in the back of the pussy’s head with my glare, daring him to turn around and say something to me.
He does.
Looming over his shorter frame, his eyes have to travel up to meet my gaze. When he does, he sneers at me with condescension. And caution.
Bring it, pussy boy.
“I agree,” he states tightly. “It’s beautiful, just like she is.”
“There’s more to beauty than meets the eye. It’s too bad not many people see it.” I look at the coffee sitting on the counter. “You’d better get that before you leave.”
The douchebag turns and snatches the cup off the counter.
“See you tomorrow, Summer,” he grunts before he storms off.
“Pussy,” I mutter under my breath.
I take the step closer to the counter with my arms still crossed in front of my chest. It was either that or grab him by his stiff white shirt to make sure he got the point.
“Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that,” she says to me.
My eyes meet hers for the first time. They’re a turbulent mixture of colors, I can see them clearly across the small barrier between us. Green and honey, with a touch of grey/blue. Even though her cheeks are flushed pink, she does not look very happy with me.
I wonder if she’s pissed-off, embarrassed, or excited.
“I didn’t have to do what? Tell him he’s a dick? He is, and I said it nicely.”
“Most guys are,” she looks me up and down, She thinks she’s got me figured out with that sizing up, “but I don’t need saving.” She takes a breath, probably to pull back that temper of hers I have a feeling she has. “Thank you, though. What can I get for you?”
She immediately becomes professional and puts that polite mask back on complete with a sweet smile. I can’t tell if what the dick said bothered her, It must have, if she appreciated me sticking up for her, or if she actually resents it.
“I couldn’t stand here and listen to that pretentious little dipshit insult you. I just came over for some coffee, I own the shop next door, I’m…”
“I know who you are, Mr….,” she cuts me off but her words trail off and pink tinges her cheeks again.
I quirk an eyebrow at her and grin.
Number one, I’m surprised she knows who I am, that she even noticed me. Number two, I also can’t help notice, although she said she knows me, she doesn’t know my name.
Does she want to?
I smirk at her, knowing she’s kicking herself by the fresh flush on her pretty face.
“I thought you said you know who I am.”
She folds her arms tightly across her chest attempting to look defiant.
“I’ve seen you,” I can hear the unsaid okay at the end of that sentence.
I’ve seen you, too, baby doll, in many different ways, and without that apron on.
I’m grinning now. Clearly she hates the position she’s finding herself in. I, on the other hand, love it. She knows I love it, love her unknown vulnerability, her weakness.
