Page 16 of Betting Blind

Fucking Fuck.

This girl is going to get us killed. I can see Hayden’s obsession growing like a gnarly bruise after a fight, and Declan isn’t doing much better to hide his. She is beautiful, sure, but clearly there are several screws loose in her toolbox. I merge into traffic and start a leisurely ride through the side streets to avoid the stoplights on the main roads. Driving on this death trap always seems to clear my head and put things into perspective for me, and today I need a lot of perspective.

And coffee. I need a lot of coffee. I stayed up all night staring at my computer screens until my eyes burned, trying to hack into The Black Crown Casino’s main frame and I am in desperate need of caffeine.

My bike rumbles to a stop just outside a small cafe off the beaten path and I nudge the kickstand into place as I remove my helmet. My hair flops into my eyes and I can feel it sticking out on the sides, but who really cares about helmet hair anymore? The answer is me. I still care. I run my fingers aggressively through my locks and try to tame them as I shoulder open the door and take a deep breath.

The warm smell of coffee envelopes me and I close my eyes as I inhale again. The combination of coffee and baked goods is one of my favorite smells and if I wasn’t terrified that the guys would make fun of me for eternity, I’d have candles in my room so that it always smelled like this.

“Welcome in!” The barista chirps happily from behind a hissing cappuccino machine. Steam is wafting gently around her as she fills the porcelain mugs. “Be with you in just a second!”

I wave her off with a small smile and look up at the menu written in pink chalk above the counter. A subtle movement to my right pulls my attention from the menu and I’m all but frozen to the spot on the floor as I watch a woman with deep crimson hair approach slowly. She tucks her fringed bangs behind her ear and smiles at me sheepishly. I’m so taken by her brown eyes that I don’t hear the barista ask me for my order.

“The chai is really good here,” the woman says and sets her empty mug on the counter.

“Chai?” I mumble in confusion. Trying to place the lilting accent in her voice.

“It’s hot tea. You are in a coffee shop, but Jessica brews the best tea,” she explains patiently, like I’m a child that is learning to count for the first time. Of course, she’s a polite English woman with the patience of a saint apparently.

Fuck.

I’m in a public coffee shop and I’m staring like some creep at this beautiful woman. “Right. I’ll have that then.” Turning back to the barista, I smile, and hand her some cash. “Keep the rest. Thank you.” She nods once and hops away, much too cheerful for my melancholy today. “Thanks for the tip.” I smile at the woman still lingering at the edge of the counter.

“Always happy to share the secret menu items,” she quips with a wink. There’s something about her features that are so familiar, but I can’t place them. It’s the shape of her face, the set of her cheekbones, but nothing else is standing out. I run through my brief interactions with women and come up short. I’ve never seen anyone with this color of hair before.

“You come here enough to know the secret menu items?” I ask with a smirk.

“Why yes, as a matter of fact, I do come here often!” She giggles and the sound is musical. It’s so familiar and my brain is starting to piss me off because I cannot place this woman. I also can’t seem to form a full train of thought as I look into her eyes.

“Are you heading off then?” I ask and nod toward the empty mug she just sat down.

“Nope. I’m getting a refill. The cups are too small to fit my caffeine addiction in just one mug,” she explains and chews on her thumbnail. Her eyes dart between me, the door, and the barista in quick succession. “I’m due for one more before I head back to work.”

Jessica places two steaming black mugs on the counter in front of us and smiles warmly before flitting away. She must be made of sweet dreams and pixie dust because I have never seen someone smile so much. I grip the handle of my mug and take a deep breath, steeling my nerves. In a moment of sheer panicked bravery, I turn back and level the redhead with my gaze. “Would you like to join me?”

“I must say that I am actually a little intrigued to have coffee with someone so sharply dressed. Do you always wear suits to the cafe?” Her smile is teasing but her eyes are sharp. I can feel her gaze piercing through my soul.

“I actually spend most of my time in a hoodie and sweatpants, but I had a business meeting this morning that required more appropriate attire.” I smile back and follow her back to the table that she was previously occupying. “Do you have a name to go with that curiosity?”

She hesitates for a moment before bringing the mug to her mouth and blowing the steam away. “I suppose I do.” She levels me with a mocking glare. “Do you?”

“Point taken. My friends call me Si.” I hold out my hand for a proper introduction and mentally kick myself. Why am I so awkward? This is exactly why I don’t go out in public.

“It’s nice to meet you, Si.” She shakes my hand firmly and her lips quirk up into a playful smirk. I don’t miss how she doesn’t return the exchange with her own name.

We sit awkwardly for a few moments, neither of us willing to break the deafening silence first. My eyes track as she lifts the still-steaming mug to her lips and takes a small sip. I’m at a complete loss and my body malfunctions as I watch her tongue dart out and catch some whipped cream on the corner of her mouth.

She catches my stare and a faint blush creeps up her neck. “Do I still have some on my face?” she asks and wipes the back of her hand across her lips.

“No!” I respond quickly and look down at my own mug. “No. You’re fine,” I say calmly and shift in my seat. You’re more than fine. You’re beautiful and I am struggling not to imagine what else that tongue could do to me. Fuck I need to get out of here. My eyes scan the small cafe and my mind is on rapid fire trying to come up with a decent excuse to leave, but I never find one.

“Give me your phone.” Her quiet voice pulls me out of my desperate escape plan. I turn back toward her and find herhand outstretched on the table, palm up and fingers flexing in the ‘gimme’ gesture of a small child. “Well you don’t really seem like your head is in the right place to make the first move,” she explains when she notices my confused stare. “So I want you to have my number in case you ever get it screwed on right. Your head that is,” she adds with a grin.

I unlock my phone and open up a blank contact page for her to put in her information. “I’m not one for picking up random women in the middle of the day in a coffee shop,” I admit and drop the phone into her waiting palm. “I’m actually not one for picking up women regularly at all.”

She frowns and her fingers tap rhythmically across my screen. She pauses for a few seconds before handing me back my phone. “You bat the other way? It would explain the expensive suit and the drop-dead good looks.” My nostrils flare at the insinuation and I feel my mental feathers ruffle. She takes note and holds up her hands. “No harm, no foul. There’s no shame.”

“I’m interested,” I grit out and glance down at my screen where her information is now saved in my contact list. Her number and the initials ECP. “I’m definitely interested, ECP,” I meet her eyes again, holding out my hand for her phone. I flex my fingers and she smiles a coy smile before placing it in my outstretched palm.

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