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I imagine her with her hands bound over her head, moaning as I tease her with my fingers. My cock responds to the image and I shut down that line of thinking at once.
I try to tune out the conversation, but they’re talking so loudly I can’t.
I should go back to the hotel. I’ve been working all morning and I still have two dozen unanswered emails I need to deal with. My phone dings as I sip my coffee.Two dozen and one emails.
There’s something about this town that gets under my skin. I really ought to just cut the Kendall property loose. I have plenty of other business opportunities. But, unfortunately, Knox is right about one thing: this feels personal. Like I’m proving something to this town—to my dad—and if I give up on the Kendall land, it’s something I won’t be able to come back from.
The smart thing with this whole business is to step back and give Knox and his friends the space to see just how impractical their plans are. I can do that from NYC. Give it a month or two, lay off on my attempts to convince them to sell, and let reality do the work for me. I don’t need to be here.
Yet I couldn’t make myself book a flight back home this morning. All because of a pair of soulful green eyes staring at me with hurt and disappointment. I really shouldn’t care so much about what she thinks of me, but for as bad as I feel, I might as well have kicked a puppy.
I drag my coffee out longer than necessary and do some work on my phone while Kylie continues to chat with Madi and Sam. When Knox told me she’d be here this afternoon, I expected to find her crying to her friends over biscotti.
I’d been an asshole. Kylie’s art is a big deal. She’s not just well-known in New Orleans, I’ve seen Kylie Simmons originals throughout the country, on the walls of many rich clients I’ve worked with. It was below the belt to negate the work she’d put into her craft. She is talented, smart, and successful. And I’d acted like she was a finger painter.
After some time, the bakery picks up more business. People ignore me, which I’m grateful for, and the additional people seem to have a positive effect on Kylie.
Some guy I don’t know strides into the cafe. He stops short, clearly noticing Kylie, and makes his way directly towards her with a smile on his face as he taps her shoulder. I stiffen, watching the interaction.
Kylie jumps to her feet with a cry of recognition and hugs him. “Oh my god, Henry! I didn’t know you were in town.”
Is this an old boyfriend? Who is he? My phone dings and I should look… but Kylie is beaming at this new guy and I can’t take my eyes off them.
I might not completely understand the female brain but I do know that Kylie is out of this guy’s league. He’s goofy-looking, with oversized ears and a nose too small for his mouth. He’s got the same sort of shaggy hair that Knox has, but while Knox always looks kind of like a California surfer, I suspect this guy has never seen a comb in his life.
“I still live in town. I’m the art teacher at the high school now. ” The guy says, flirting. His hands rub up and down Kylie’s back. Is it my imagination, or is he about to grab her ass?
As they talk, I can’t seem to focus on anything except the way he is touching her. My fists clench in anger as the irrational thought to pull him away from her comes flooding into my mind.
Suddenly, she looks over at me smugly, snapping me out of my thoughts. It’s clear that they have been talking about Mrs. Kendall and that she’s very pleased to have someone else from Willowcreek endorse the clubhouse while I’m in earshot.
As our eyes meet, a strange sensation sweeps over me. Her gaze is like a physical touch and I can’t help it. My own gaze moves over her. Her self-proclaimed great tits are, in fact, just as great as she thinks. Better, probably. The shirt she wears clings to her form and I can only imagine what she’d look like in a tight little clubbing number.
I grind my teeth as I finish my now-cold coffee. My phone rings at the right time and I quickly answer the call. “Hello…”
I don’t have to take the call, but it is the welcome distraction I need. An excuse for an escape as I grab a few bills from my wallet and toss them down onto the table, not caring how much it is. I simply need to get away.
The moment I step foot outside the bakery, I welcome the stiff afternoon breeze as it brushes against my skin. “Yeah, I’m still here,” I reply to my assistant, who I wasn’t paying attention to.
“I was able to rearrange a few of your meetings, sir. I just want to see if the Sean Moore appointment was something you wanted to keep. I know you said rearrange them all, but that one—if I remember correctly—was very important to you.”
Sean Moore is indeed important, and I’ve been after that meeting for months. Rescheduling it would be idiotic.
“No,” I reply tightly. “No need to apologize. I can still meet with him.”
I should be focusing entirely on that meeting. Instead, all I want is an excuse to talk to Kylie and stop her from going to a club tonight. So much so that my hand grips my phone tighter as I think about another man placing his hands on her body as if she is a prize they can actually obtain.
“I’ve got to go. Send me the details, and I’ll call you back later.”
I end the call and close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose as I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Coming to this town was a mistake. I can’t bring myself to regret it, though, not now that I’ve seen Kylie once more.
Even if she is a distraction I can’t afford.
The woman has me palm-twitchingly mad with a desire to bend her over my knee and punish her for what she did in there. To let that man flirt with her before me… he isn’t worthy of her. And she should know that! Hell, no man in this town would be worthy of her attention. Not to mention, I didn’t miss the way she watched me eye her from across the cafe. As if she could feel my eyes on her the entire time she was in there.
Who knew that Kylie Simmons could tease me with such innocent eyes?
I release the breath I’m holding, letting go of the memory at the same time. She’s still got that shy naivety around her. It kills me to think of some guy taking advantage of her. She deserves better than to be treated like a one-night stand that will be forgotten in the morning.
