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I had no idea where that endearment came from, but it fell from my lips as easily as the smile I offered her when she finally looked up, pencil behind her ear, her glasses perched on her nose and her hand clutching damp napkins. God, she was cute. I never knew I had a thing for nerdy twenty-somethings. No, not all of them, just this one in particular. Instantly, I wanted to reassure her, to make her see it wasn’t anything to be upset about.
“It was an accident. I’m just glad you like iced coffee.” I offered her a smile so she knew I wasn’t upset, rubbed my thumb against her palm. I shouldn’t be doing this… it was like robbing the fucking cradle just talking to her, but I couldn’t help it.
Her eyes widened and she blinked. A flush spread across her cheeks. I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t.
“Still, I’m sorry. Your shirt’s ruined, I’m sure,” she whispered, glancing away, but not moving since I still held her.
“Eyes up here.”
She responded immediately to my request, and I liked that. Too fucking much. I wondered how she’d respond when I took charge in other ways.
Oh shit. No. Not a good idea.
Fuck, yes.
“It’s just a shirt,” I said, my voice rough.
Eve came around the counter and handed me a clean dishcloth. I let go of Bridge to take it, but she snagged it out of her friend’s hand before I could get it. She dropped to her knees to wipe up the floor. There wasn’t much of a mess since it had landed squarely on me, and I was a big guy.
Bridge glanced up at me from her knees, sank her teeth in her plump lower lip and my dirty mind went immediately to her before me just like this, but I was feeding her my dick. How her lips would spread around it. How her eyes would go wide when she realized she wouldn’t be able to take all of me.
I was at least a head taller and weighed close to two-fifty. Big. I was definitely proportionate. Shit. I was trying to be a good guy, a gentleman, but she was on her fucking knees! She was testing the hell out of my restraint and she didn’t even know it.
Because it was fucking obvious she sure as shit was a good girl.
And I wanted to do very bad things to her. The very young woman. Now I could see why my dad liked them young.
I stifled a groan. I was going to hell.
I hadn’t realized Eve had left us until she came back and handed me a t-shirt. “On the house.”
The moment was broken, and I took the shirt, held it up. The coffee shop’s name, Steaming Hotties, was across the chest in a decorative font with Hunter Valley, Montana beneath it. And it was pale pink.
“Might be a little snug,” she added, “but I’m not sure what would fit on you, big guy.”
I had my suitcase in the rental car. I could go out and grab a clean shirt, but it was a kind gesture, and I didn’t want to decline it or her hospitality. Maybe I’d get her to supply the coffee beans for the inn. I might only be here a short time to get the construction project back on track, but I’d be in Hunter Valley often and wanted to get to know the community.
Perhaps one member of it in particular. One who seemed to be very talented at math, had a knack for blushing at the smallest things, was a touch awkward and didn’t realize how amazing she looked on her knees.
On top of all that, I had a feeling the sooner I was out of the stained shirt, Bridge would stop looking at me like she kicked my puppy. I wanted her to look at me with those bewitching eyes in other ways. Ways that made me feel like an old fucking man. But one whose dick was rock hard.
So standing in the middle of the coffee shop, I took my shirt off, one button at a time.
3
BRIDGET
* * *
Oh my God. He was taking off his shirt. I’d never been to an all-male revue, but I had a feeling it would be like this. And I had a very up-close view. I hopped from my knees and Eve snagged the dirty cloth from my hands as I stared.
And tried not to drool as the man’s bare chest was revealed, one chiseled inch at a time.
“Holy fuck,” Eve whispered, then fled behind the counter to help another customer.
I had never seen a guy his size before. I worked on a construction site and was surrounded by men all day. Some were big, but not like this. I barely came up to this guy’s shoulder. His wide, muscular shoulders. I knew they were muscular because they were bare. Bare! And tanned. And toned. And all the adjectives that were not coming to mind because I couldn’t think straight at the sight of him.
And his thick chest. The smattering of dark hair. The flat disks of his nipples. I wanted to run my hand over one, then slide down over those abs. I stared and while I was one semester shy of getting a mathematics degree from MIT, I couldn’t count if he had a six-, eight-, twelve-pack or whatever number he had if my life depended on it. His jeans hung low on his narrow hips and there were those two deep lines that dipped beneath the waistband, that V thing. The one that made a woman’s ovaries pop out an egg or two.
