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Chapter thirteen
My heart was in my throat as we carried our coffee cups to one of the little bistro tables in the corner of the Complex’s cafe.
Leave it to Nash and Dutch to stick their noses exactly where they didn’t belong. Assholes.
I was so going to ham up the dramatics to Brynn later that I wouldn’t be surprised if she kicked them out of her nest entirely.
At least the man in front of me looked as nervous as I felt.
This was the closest he’d been to me since Scotland and the first time I got a good whiff of his scent again. His musky clove scent was muted, probably thanks to the descenting body wash the Complex provided, but it still filled my nose and made my pesky alpha brain purr with desire.
What a bitch she was.
My inner alpha didn’t give a flying fuck what my personal rules were, nor did she seem to care that she kept getting me into trouble because we couldn’t seem to keep it in our knickers because of her.
It had been two days since my confrontation with Enzo Santoro, and the memories of his words still, as Dutch would say, smarted something fierce.
None of what he had said had been wrong, even if I wished it was.
I was bad luck to everyone around me. Poking them with metaphorical quills whenever I let them get too close.
I should have run away from Wiz again, Nash and Dutch be damned, but my ridiculous inner alpha kept pushing me to talk to him, to break all of my rules for a man I barely knew.
All because his scent danced through my thoughts like an addicting drug.
“So,” Wiz began, his still-wet hair flopping adorably into his eyes. The urge to reach across the little table and brush the lock away filled me so intently that I fisted both hands in my lap. “How have you been?”
“Are you really going for small talk?” My question came out much harsher than I’d meant it to, but Wiz didn’t seem to mind. Instead, the jerk smiled as if that was what he was hoping I’d say.
All of his earlier nerves seemed to evaporate and he sat up straighter, black eyes intent on my face. “Go on a date with me.”
“I don’t date,” I shot back without missing a beat, ignoring the stupid flutter in my stomach that his request brought.
That didn’t seem to put him off, though, because he was already lobbing his next question at me. “Why not?”
“It’s one of my rules.” There was no point in dancing around the crux of the issue.
“Why don’t you date?” Wiz prodded, taking a sip of the Chai latte he’d ordered and immediately hissing as what could only feel like molten lava poured across his tongue. “Ow, fuck!”
I was up and out of my seat in a blink. Hurrying over to the little counter to pour a cup of ice water for him, I eyed the worker. He wouldn’t be the first victim to the overly hot coffee at this cafe, and he definitely wouldn’t be the last.
“Had to make it as hot as Satan’s testes, did you?” I asked the peppy teenage barista who just grinned maniacally at me.
“It’s so it stays warm until you get to your destination,” she sang unapologetically before turning to continue wiping down the counter.
I couldn’t help but grin at that. I always knew I liked her.
When I returned to the table, Wiz was still holding his mouth with wide eyes as I handed him the cup.
“You’ve got to give your coffee three to five business days to cool off or else you’re liable to lose your tongue,” I told him, watching as he chugged the ice water.
After a minute, Wiz finally seemed to regain control over himself, his high-boned cheeks still a bit flushed as he returned his attention to me.
“So, why don’t you date?” he rasped, looking less confident than he had been a few minutes ago.
“It never ends well.”
“Have you ever actually done it?”
