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Emma’s ass swayed as she walked, and it was a challenge to not let my attention go back there, especially since it reminded me of everything we’d done in the gym. I wanted to fuck her again so badly that even as I walked, my erection strained against my jeans.
Cora and Emma chose a cafe that I’d been to before, a place that was full of plastic plants and water features, and wasn’t too visible from the street. An enthusiastic waitress handed them menus and poured two tall glasses of water, and I chose a chair close enough to keep an eye on them, but far away enough that I couldn’t hear their conversation.
Emma glanced back and smiled, and I returned it. For a second, all I could think about was kissing her, so it was a welcome distraction when the waitress came to my table and fussed about with the water jug.
“Know what you’re looking for today?” she asked and plucked the worn-down pencil from behind her ear and held it above an equally worn notebook.
“Just a cappuccino, please,” I said.
The waitress scribbled my order and paused, looking at me expectantly. “Any food?”
I shook my head. “Just the coffee, please.”
The woman disappeared and I alternated my attention between Emma and the entrance of the cafe. It was an arched trellis that was covered with fake plastic vines and the doors were propped open. Pedestrians milled past and some came inside, but I hadn’t seen anyone who looked like Nathan.
Not yet, at least.
It was a Sunday, so the place was filling with twenty-somethings who looked like they were getting their coffee fix before heading out to start their day. I checked each of them only long enough to be sure they weren’t Nathan, then kept scanning the room.
As far as I could tell, the front entrance was the only one that was accessible to the public. The fire exit was out the back, past the kitchens, but I could tell from where I was sitting that the door was locked and alarmed.
“Anything else?” the waitress asked as she carefully placed my coffee on the table. The floorboards were uneven, and some liquid spilled over the side of the cup, but I didn’t care.
“That’s everything, thank you,” I said with a close-lipped smile, and she took the hint to leave me alone.
Emma and Cora were deep in conversation now, their hands moving animatedly. Even though I was a few feet away, I still caught the occasional word and at one point, Emma dropped her head back and laughed.
It was wonderful to see her behaving so naturally, especially when she looked over at me and smiled again, her joy still on her face.
And even better… she trusted me. I could tell this from the way she didn’t glance at the door once, even though it was behind her.
It was a nice feeling. Not many people trusted me since I’d been to prison, aside from Xavier and Jackson. Even my family had cut contact. Emma trusted me, and I wasn’t going to take that for granted: I already knew I’d do everything in my power to protect her.
When she and Cora had finished their coffees and disappeared into the bathrooms, I paid all our bills and walked ahead of them to the door, where I waited for them to join me.
“Ladies first,” I said, sweeping my hand out in a chivalrous gesture.
“Thanks,” Cora said, and as she and Emma walked ahead, I heard her whisper, “That’s so hot!”
“Back off,” Emma said, and looked back to gaze into my eyes as she smiled. “He’s mine.”
The words sent a delicious tingle down my spine. I wasn’t a possessive man — it was why I didn’t mind that she was fucking Xavier and Jackson — but hearing that she wanted me all to herself made me feelwanted, in a way I hadn’t since… well, since before I was in jail.
I kept my distance again as we walked back to the shop, letting them have their own space to talk until Emma rang the doorbell for Xavier to let us in.
“I’ll get it,” I said, squeezing between them to unlock the door with my keys, so the guys didn’t have to open it from the inside.
“What about radio?” she asked Cora. “Do you think one of the local stations could promote it?”
“Maybe,” Cora said as we all walked into the studio. “But radio advertising’s expensive, so I’d only do it if they were willing to mention it on one of their programs for free.”
“Radio stations aren’t charities,” I said. “But you can always ask. They might make an exception for a good cause.”
Both Xavier and Jackson were working on clients, and Xavier looked up when he heard us, pausing his tattoo pen mid-line.
“I can give you an advertising budget,” he said. “As long as it’s going to generate buzz, it’s good for the business.”
“What?” his client grunted, lifting his head to look at us.
