Bait (Wake, #1)(11)

Casey opened the door and I instantly thought he might be right. The smell of roasted coffee beans was heavenly as it infiltrated my nose. My tummy grumbled and suddenly I was a believer.

“But I like it when they write my name on the side,” I implored. He looked at me like I had three heads. His eyebrows bunched together as if I'd told him that I liked ketchup on my ice cream. I giggled. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. “How do you like your coffee?”

“Surprise me. Your beer is really good. I'm sure whatever you choose will be, too. I want to know what you like. I'll find us a seat.”

His smile spread across his face like a wild fire.

I found a little table off to the side that seated two. When he reached me he was carrying the two coffee mugs like the cargo was liquid gold. He bobbed and weaved around people trying his best not to spill a drop. I couldn't help my grin.

He offered me the hot mug and I was more than happy to take it. I put it on the table and awaited further instruction. For some reason, I was compelled to wait for him. He sat across from me and unraveled his long legs out to the side of our table. His funny sunglasses, perched atop of his head, held back his hair like a headband. It was adorable and strangely sexy seeing him without the hair framing his face.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked.

“Probably not.”

“Drink it, but be careful it's hot.”

I grasped the handle and I turned it so I could lift it with my dominant left hand. Scribbled on the side was “Betty Is Trouble.” My head swam. I stared at it. I read and reread it. Then, I looked over to Casey's cup. He turned it so I could read his, too.

“Lou Likes Trouble.”

It was so weird and sweet and unexpected at the same time.

Where in the hell did this guy come from?





Saturday, May 24, 2008


I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE in the f*ck she came from. And I didn't give one shit. If I only had that day with her, and hopefully that night, I was going to take advantage of every single minute.

Boyfriends and girlfriends be damned.

“How do you like that coffee?” I asked, but I knew she loved it. She'd only taken about three drinks and her cup was almost empty.

“It's really good. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Now. This boyfriend...” I began.

She bared her teeth and inhaled a long breath. It made a whistle sound and she winced.

She stood. I thought she was about to leave. Instead, she slugged back the last drink in her cup and looked into mine, seeing it was empty, too.

“Another?” Blake asked.

“Yeah.” She walked to the counter, and bought us each another cup. Walking back she looked worried. The subject of our significant others wasn't going to be a comfortable conversation, but it was necessary. I was breaking it off with Aly that day. I hoped she'd tell me that she and this other guy were on the downhill, too.

I didn't know why.

What difference would it have made? She didn't live in San Francisco. I did.

I thought she could do better than be with a guy who she could so easily forget, though. He couldn't have been that great and that was the part that got into my craw. I fully intended on being inside her again, and soon hopefully, but first I needed to know some things.

“So, what's up with this boyfriend?” She shifted in her chair and tapped her fingers on the tabletop. Seconds passed. Then minutes. I wasn't changing the subject. There wasn't any reason for us to not lay it all out there.

She finally relented after a stare off, “What do you want to know?”

“Oh, I don't know? Is it serious? How long have you been with each other?” Was I better in bed? Did he make her come as hard as I did?

“I don't know. I guess it's serious. Why do you want to know all of this? And forgive me if I'm wrong, but don't one-nighters usually end, you know, in the morning?” Her defensive tone didn't go unnoticed. Neither did the nervous bouncing of her legs or the little twitch in her lip.

“Hey, I'm not judging you. We both did what we did. I'm just curious if you did it because you're not really that into him, or if it was something else?”

She cleared her throat and looked around, like anyone gave a f*ck about what we were talking about. “I don't mean to be rude, but I don't think that it's any of your business, Casey.”

She wasn't my business. She was right.

“That's fair. I just thought we could be friends.” Instantly her features softened. Her brow relaxed and she took another long sip of her coffee.

“Sorry. I…I've never done anything like, you know, what we did last night.” Her cheeks flushed and I hoped she was thinking about how good it felt. I needed to stop thinking about it, too, before I had to adjust myself.

“Never?” I asked.

“Never. Have you?”

I wish I could have said that I'd never f*cked around on a girl. Not that I was a prick or anything. I liked to think I was more of an opportunist. Sometimes opportunity climbed on your lap. Sometimes an opportunity bent over in front of you when you weren't wearing pants. Sometimes the back of an opportunity's throat itched and wanted me to scratch it with my cock.

Maybe I was a prick.

But I'd never strung a girl along. I'd never lied. Sure, I had hooked up with other women while I was with someone. Granted, it was at the end of the relationship every time. Call it a red flag for me. If I wanted to bang the shit out of one chick, while I was dating another one, it probably wasn't mean to be.