Friction(22)

"What are the odds?" I whisper, breathless and hating the way my heart thunders so intensely at the mere glimpse of that asshole.

Jamie starts to say something but then flicks another glance at Jace and company. Her dark, curly hair swishes around her cheeks as she moves her head from side to side. "Honestly, I have no words. And you know I don’t run out of things to say very often."

No, she doesn't, and I find that I'm also at a loss for words. How on earth did Jace end up in the same restaurant as me on a Sunday morning? Why the hell isn’t he sleeping in until noon with whatever woman he took home after I left him last night?

Unless, Daisy is that woman.

A tremor surges through my hands as I bring my coffee to my lips, and I barely register the liquid is so hot it singes my tongue. Jamie plays with the prongs of her fork, and once again, she stares behind me wearing an astonished expression.

"Your eyes are wide," I point out robotically. "He's coming over here, isn't he?"

"And smiling like the delicious deviant that he is," she confirms.

I don't have to turn around to know the precise moment he arrives—I can smell him. My body automatically reacts to the tantalizing earthiness that is Jace Exley. Although I'm prepared for it, a shock still rips through me when he clears his throat.

"Morning, Williams," he says. "Mind if I sit?"

I'm a split second away from telling Jace to piss off, but then, without an invitation, he pulls out one of the extra chairs and turns it so the cushion faces the front of his body. He sits down, casually draping one leg over either side. I drink in a mouthful of air when his foot bumps the side of mine.

It’s not fair that the slightest touch from this man has the power to electrify my heart and body and mind. He obviously notices that I snatch my foot from his because he gives me a dazzling grin before he darts it in Jamie’s direction. "Armstrong, right?"

"Jamie," she says then skims her tongue over the tiny space between her two front teeth. "We had chorus together senior year." I already know this. In fact, I vividly remember her complaining about his awful singing whenever we passed him in the hallway. Then she'd make a comment about how she forgave him for his terrible voice because he was so beautiful and hearing him speak made up for him being tone-deaf. My best friend's weakness for beautiful men is almost greater than her penchant for fawning over squirming newborns.

"Right." His mouth widens as it finally clicks exactly who she is. "Yeah, yeah, I used to party with your sister. Becca or—"

"Bella," she corrects, resting her elbow on the table and leaning forward. Holy shit, can she stare at the man any harder? Doesn’t she know that giving him this type of attention is like feeding a mogwai after midnight?

"Yeah, Bella." The corners of his lips curve into a smile that makes me draw in my cheeks. It doesn't make any sense that the gorgeous ones always have to be complete dicks. "She was always fun."

Knowing the type of parties Jace is into, I wonder what kind of fun he's talking about. Jamie must be thinking the same thing because she glances at her phone lying face down in the center of the table. It's almost a given she'll send a text the moment he leaves just so she can ask her twin about her affiliation with Mr. Extreme.

He turns to focus his undivided attention on me, and I narrow my hazel eyes. Dressed in black leggings, rain boots, and an old Brown t-shirt, I look like ass ran over. Skimming his eyes from the top of my messy black bun to the swell of my breasts beneath my shirt, he gives me a satisfied look.

"What are you doing here, Jace?" I ask, my voice deflated.

"Eating breakfast. That's what most normal people do in the morning, isn't it?" After I twist my lips to one side, he throws his head back and laughs, giving Jamie and I an excellent view of the tattoo on his neck and another peeking out of the neckline of his tee shirt.

Tom always hated tattoos—he called any form of body art ridiculous and had given me hell about the tiny lime green ribbon I got on my shoulder in honor of my father. The thing is, I don’t want to imagine Jace Exley without the ink that covers his bronze skin. Even when I’m furious at him, I can’t deny that they make him so much more irresistible.

"I'm staying five minutes away from here. I come here most Sundays, so I guess the question is, what are you doing here?"

"Eating ... pancakes." Jesus that sounds so lame, and I make a mental note never to come back to this restaurant. I don’t give a damn how good their red velvet and cream cheese flapjacks taste.

"I sent you a text earlier," he says. Jamie's perfect eyebrows shoot straight up because I hadn't mentioned that fact. After she gave me the rundown on her disaster of a date last night—the PA she went out with flat out told her she had an ass made for screwing on the first date—I had launched into my own sex-related nightmare. "If you're going to ignore text messages at least disable your Read Receipts because it's rude to ignore your boss."

His text wasn't like anything I've ever received from any other employer; well, except for Tom, who doesn't count since I used to sleep with the man. All Jace's three AM message said is “Are you still upset, Williams?”

Since I was—I still am—and I didn't want to come off as a bitch, I deleted it.