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Her blue eyes widen. “What?”
I lean closer to her so the over-the-pants-masturbator doesn’t catch wind of our discussion. “There has been something going on between us since you walked in here two weeks ago. I feel it. You do too. You’re no longer entangled with your asshole cheating boyfriend, so I’m making my intentions clear.”
“Talk about not mincing words.” She takes a sip of her drink. “You’re jumping to a pretty big conclusion if you think I have sex with strangers.”
I fight to hold back a smile. “So I’m a stranger?”
“All I know about you is your name and that you practice estate law.”
“I never mentioned what type of law I practice.”
Her cheeks flush. “You did.”
“Liar,” I accuse. “You looked me up.”
“So what if I did?” She laughs it off. “I was curious.”
“You still are.”
She lets out a breathy sigh. “I searched for you online, Roman. That doesn’t mean I’m going to jump into bed with you.”
I move to stand before I slide two bills from my wallet and drop them on the bar. “I’m due in court within the hour, so we’ll have to pause this discussion for now. I’ll see you next week, Bianca. Same place. Same time.”
I walk away because I know that I’m not imagining the energy that is bouncing between us. I made it clear what I want. The ball is in her court now. I fully expect her to volley it back to me a week from now, if not sooner.
Chapter 8
Bianca
“Did you tell Kieran to go to hell?” Maren Morgan, one of my closest friends, turns around to ask me that question.
I motion for her to take a step forward as the line we’re standing in inches ahead. “More than once.”
She cups a hand around her growing baby bump as she moves closer to the counter where two baristas are taking orders. “Do you think he got the message?”
He should have. Last week, after Kieran called me repeatedly, I packed up the two shirts and one pair of jeans he had left at my apartment, added a note telling him to stop contacting me, and sent it to his office. Then I immediately blocked his number.
The unopened package was returned to me the next day, so I shipped it all to his apartment.
Kieran thought it was a good idea to drop by my office to thank me with two dozen roses.
I refused the flowers with a bitter laugh.
He fell apart. He told me he lost his job the day I caught him with Ulla. It seems her boyfriend caught them in the act, too, because she butt dialed him at the beginning of their romp last Tuesday.
Her boyfriend was Kieran’s boss up until that moment.
I don’t know if he was looking for sympathy when he confessed that to me, but all he got was a shake of my head before I told him to go to hell.
I haven’t heard from him since.
“He got it.” I round her as she approaches the barista counter. “Can I get one herbal tea for the mom-to-be? I’ll have a dark roast, no sugar, but add a small splash of cream, please.”
Maren sighs. “I’m craving chocolate, but I shouldn’t.”
I scan the menu of Palla on Fifth. “Can we get one chocolate scone and a piece of banana bread?”
The barista smiles. “You bet.”
I feel Maren squeeze my shoulder. “You know I like that bread for a mid-afternoon snack.”
I pull out my credit card. “If you can resist it for that long.”
She laughs as the barista writes my name down on both cups. I come here daily, so the fact that she knows me isn’t at all surprising.
I wait for the barista to run my card before I slide it back into my wallet. I turn around to see Maren headed toward a table, so I fall in step behind her.
“I have a meeting in an hour,” I warn her as we take our seats. “It’s going to eat up the rest of my day.”
Maren sags into the wooden chair. “I have a nap in an hour.”
I let out a laugh. “Weber is kicking your ass?”
Weber is not only Maren’s maiden name, but it’s also the name of the baby she’s expecting. She tossed around dozens of names with her husband, Keats, before settling on that for their son.
“I’ll be glad once he’s here.” She glances at the red blouse and black pants I’m wearing. “I can’t wait to get back into my normal clothes.”
The outfit she’s wearing is cute. The green short-sleeve top complements her red hair, and the jeans she has on are dark-washed. The low-heeled shoes on her feet have been her favorite for most of her pregnancy.
“Is it too soon to ask if you’ve met anyone since you dumped Kieran?”
I smile at the barista when she delivers our drinks and Maren’s treats on a tray. “Thank you.”
