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I almost work up the nerve to tell him as much before realizing with sharp clarity that not one person in the room is batting an eye at the infamous vampire hunter.
My hands quiver with adrenaline as an invisible force tugs me farther into the shop and closer to Marcus. Time moves painfully slow with each step as I watch him reach for the woman’s hand across the table.
Lovers perhaps? Or maybe she’s the woman whose identity I’ve yet to uncover.
For all the obvious amount of rubbernecking I’m doing, I can see she fits the profile. But unless there’s a hidden resort somewhere, I can’t imagine why someone as rich and famous as Marcus Matthews would be hanging around a charming little town like Augustine.
“Bonita,” the man behind the counter says, startling me. “Welcome. What is it I can get for you?”
His accent is smooth, if not somewhat stilted around each word. With those loose black curls brushing his cheeks and sultry, green, bedroom eyes, he’s the kind of guy a woman would beg for a nightcap.
“Hi, I’ll take a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso, and chocolate sprinkles if you have them, please.” I half pay attention as I give him my order while continuing to spy on my subject.
“Anything else, beauty?”
I’ve got an eyeroll locked and loaded when I glance back at him, but I pause at the cheeky smirk on his full, dusky-tan lips.
Okay, fine. He’s cute.
Flattening one palm over his chest, he bows his head. “My name is Ernesto.”
From my periphery, Marcus and his gorgeous companion move to stand. They embrace in a hug that’s too familiar to be casual, and I glance down at the camera still slung around my neck, unsure if I should be relieved to have found my target or terrified.
It’s been two years since we last saw each other, and while I’m almost positive he won’t remember the ‘media roach’ as he once branded me, part of me worries he might.
“Nice to meet you.” I shake Ernesto’s outstretched hand, admiring that he doesn’t withhold his firm grip just because I’m a woman.
“Are you new to Augustine?” he asks, gesturing to my camera.
No time for small talk, Sinclair,my inner Alice prompts.
Maybe it’s Penelope dragging me so far out of my comfort zone or maybe the island sun has temporarily melted my inner ice queen, but for some reason, I struggle to revert to my usual indifference where charismatic men are concerned.
“Oh, no. I’m on vacation.” I spare him the effort of asking when I’m leaving. “Won’t be here too long, though.”
Ernesto places his hands on the counter, then hits me with a panty-dropping grin-wink combo. “If you’d like, I could give you my number. Show you around?”
Surprisingly, his bravado makes me laugh in a foreign, flirty manner.
“No thanks.” I gesture to his black T-shirt where the wordErnesto’sis printed across his pecs. “But I know where to find you if I change my mind.”
He raps his knuckles on the counter. “I look forward to it.”
The moment Ernesto turns away, an ominous blur of white glides behind me like a shark in the water. I freeze, barely breathing as my pulse pounds in my ears.
Marcus posts up next to the pickup area, leaning his shoulder against the wall while distractedly tapping his thumbs on his phone screen. And I look anywhere and everywhere that isn’t his lower half fit in a pair of worn, faded jeans.
Had he even placed an order?
I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. Penelope will be back any minute, and I need an excuse to cover me ditching her for an emergency stakeout session.
“Double shot vanilla latte,” a woman calls my order, halting me mid-step.
My gaze flicks from the exit to Marcus, who’s still absently scrolling, then to the coffee sitting innocently on the edge of the counter.
“Just grab it and go,” I whisper as I duck my face and gingerly walk toward the cup.
I halt mid-step when his hand swoops down and picks upmydrink. Without missing a beat, he starts for the door.
