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“Oh my God, I’m pathetic.”
“Talking to yourself is a sure sign of insanity.” Aubry spoke from the corner table where she was doing something on her massive laptop—probably plotting world domination. Or gaming.
She pushed the button to start the coffee brewing, breathing in the comforting smell and doing her best to get her crazy under control. “Wrong. There are studies showing that talking to yourself is a sign of intelligence.” Thank you, Facebook.
“Touché.” Aubry glanced up and her eyes went wide. “Incoming.”
Jules turned around in time to see Grant open the door to the shop. Her stomach took a nosedive. She spun back around, pretending she hadn’t seen him, and busied herself with the coffeepot to buy time. She’d bet her last dollar that he was here to call her out on faking Adam being her boyfriend. Grant had never been able to let stuff like that go.
What had she seen in that guy again?
Oh, right. Popular high school football player who had turned that golden charm on her sixteen-year-old self and made her feel like something really special.
Until he crushed her under his shoe as he left her in the dust.
“Hey, Jules.”
She couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t see him when he was trying to engage her in conversation. Jules turned. “Grant. What a surprise.”
He smirked. “There’s a bell over the door.”
“I was talking about you showing up in the first place.” She shot a look at where Mrs. Peterson had Cujo in her lap and wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop. Jules gritted her teeth. “Can I help you with something?”
“So this is your place.” He made a show of looking around. “It’s…quaint.”
She followed his gaze, trying to see things through his point of view. The shop was decent sized, with plenty of room for half a dozen tables and the long counter that she stood behind, as well as three elaborate cat towers. The walls were a cheery blue, and there were suns painted onto the tabletops. It was a bright and happy place and damn him to hell for trying to make her embarrassed of it.
Power through it. You can do this. “Would you like some coffee?”
“Oh, no, thanks. I’m heading to the Starbucks down the street.” He smiled his million-dollar smile. “I just came by to check the place out. And because I’d hoped you reconsidered that date.”
Fury temporarily stole her words. First the Starbucks comment, and now this again? He didn’t get to just waltz back into town and pick her up like she was a forgotten toy. She clenched her hands, forcibly reminding herself that assaulting customers wasn’t a good way to bring in business. Plus, she was nice. Nice girls didn’t smash coffeepots over the heads of their ex-boyfriends.
But even nice girls stood their ground. She lifted her chin. “As I think I made more than clear last night, I’m seeing someone.”
“Somehow, I’m not so sure about that.” He tipped an imaginary hat and walked out the door, still grinning.
She should have known pretending to date Adam would backfire. Now, not only was she quirky for staying in a small town and owning a cat café, but she was pathetic for pretending to date someone and it being clear to Grant and everyone else that there was no way Adam Meyers would really date her. Why would he? He was exciting and wild and hot. And she was Jules Rodriguez, local good girl and budding cat lady.
“I hate that Grant makes me feel like this. Still.”
Aubry opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say was lost when she laughed. “Incoming two point oh.”
“Did I do something to anger the fates? Because this is freaking ridiculous.”
She braced herself for another go-round with Grant, but it wasn’t his outline darkening her doorstep.
No, it was Adam’s.
Her heart leaped into her throat, even as she told herself it was a completely unforgivable reaction. He’d done her a favor last night. End of story.
But that didn’t stop her body from perking up and taking notice of every move he made. It wasn’t how he walked in and instantly took control of the room without even doing anything. He filled the doorway, and though he wasn’t as tall as Quinn, there was nothing small or short about Adam. I wonder…
Nope. Knock that right off.
She was nearly 100 percent sure he wasn’t wearing the same jeans from last night, because these hugged his thighs, showcasing the muscles that flexed with each step, leading up to… Oh, my. She sent a silent little thank-you to whoever designed the jeans, because they were so fitted, it was pretty darn clear that he was perfectly in proportion everywhere.
She jerked her gaze to his face, but that didn’t help at all, because all she could see was the square jaw, his dark eyes, and his mouth. The very same mouth she’d been kissing less than twenty-four hours ago.
