My eyes dart up immediately and my breath catches. Standing in front of me, in my coffee shop of all places, is Elias.
He stands tall, his suit perfectly fitting his toned muscles. The top few buttons on his shirt are undone, giving me a slight glimpse into the statuesque body beneath the designer suit. Looking around at The Ground, where everyone is in various forms of active wear, he looks so out of place. Many eyes in the room are on him, including Harper’s and Kaycee’s. But he doesn’t take his eyes off me. He quirks a beautiful brow at me with a slight smirk.
Fuck. I’ve been staring.
“Hi!” I blurt out, the sound too loud. A couple of customers shake their heads and turn back to their coffees.
“Daydreaming?” he asks with a smirk.
I could fucking melt at that smirk. In fact, I’m pretty sure I am melting. Warmth creeps up my chest and onto my face. I bring my cold hand up to my warm chest to relieve the heat there. He tracks my movement intensely. There’s that fucking look again. He sees me.
I drop my eyes down to the counter to avoid his all-seeing gaze. “Something like that,” I mutter.
Time loses meaning. I don’t know how long we’ve been standing here and I need to ask him what he wants, but the words clog in my throat.
For fuck’s sake, Kat. Get it together.
“What do you recommend?” he asks, as if he could see my internal struggle. Or read my mind. But let’s face it, I’m struggling on the inside and out.
“The lattes are good here,” I reply, slowly finding my courage to look at him again.
“I’ll take one,” he answers.
“Regular or plant milk?”
“What do you drink?”
The question catches me off guard.
“Uh, oat,” I reply, suddenly unsure of my fucking dairy preference.
“I’ll take an oat latte in that case. I’d like to see what you have a taste for.”
The air whooshes out of my lungs. Did he just say what I think he said? He swipes his large hand across his bearded jaw and smirks. Okay. Hedefinitelysaid that.
Despite my shaking hands, I send the order through the register as he taps his black card on the reader. I shouldn’t besurprised, but I am. Seeing it in person makes it a whole lot different.
Of course he has a black card.
I can’t even get a credit card. I barely even have a debit card.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” I state, the words coming out more accusatory than I mean them to.
“I was in the area and wanted coffee.”
“There are lots of other coffee shops around here. In fact, there’s a fancy one down the street that’s probably more your vibe,” I retort before I can second-guess myself. Why am I suddenly so sassy?
He laughs. He actuallylaughs, and the sound makes my chest flutter. He doesn’t look like the type of man who laughs, so it comes as a shock, and I’m lost for words for a moment.
He places his hands on the counter and leans towards me. My body is screaming at me to lean back, but, as always, I fucking ignore it and lean forward, as if gravity has somehow decided to pull me closer to him.
“Maybe I liked what I saw here,” he states, his smirk not fading in the slightest.
“Maybe you should learn to window shop, Mr. Headstone.”
His brows rise, and his smirk grows at the challenge.
Before I can question it anymore, I pick up his freshly made latte from where Harper placed it on the pass. Our fingers touch as I hand it to him, and a jolt of electricity runs through my arm, and I nearly drop the paper cup. His touch is warm—the complete opposite of his cold exterior. His eyes never leave mine, like he’s completely unaffected by this.
