Page 11 of Keeping Katie

“For here.” His voice is deep and velvety. A mix of harsh and smooth. There’s a hint of sternness when he speaks that makes me want to immediately obey his every command.

“Okay. I’ll heat it and bring it out to you,” I offer.

He nods and drops a hundred-dollar bill on the counter near the cash register, then turns and sits at the table closest to me. Close enough that his rich, amber scent wafts through the air.

Last night, I fought the urge to text Chloe some more and ask her about Grady. Who he is. What he does. What kind of person he is. Based on how he carries himself, he’s definitely in a position of power. Men don’t walk around with his level of confidence unless they have a reason to. And while he seems kind enough, the tattoos on his hands, all the way down to his fingertips, cause a yellow caution flag to pop up in my mind. If this were one of the books I like to read, I’d say he’s in the mafia, but this isn’t a book. It’s real life, and stuff like that isn’t real.

As I pass the register to take him the pastry, I swipe the money he left on the counter and set it down with the plate. “I’m not sure where you normally drink coffee, but at Twisted Bean, it doesn’t cost a hundred dollars.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as he looks me up at down. “Got a little sass in there. I like it. Take a bite.”

His eyes lower to the pastry and then back to me as my mouth goes slack. “Oh, um, no, that’s yours. And since you left so much money yesterday, this one and the next twenty are on the house.”

“Did you eat breakfast?”

“What?”

He sits back in the chair, his hands folded between his thighs as he looks at me expectantly. Definitely a man in a position of power. Is it pathetic that I have an urge to kneel before him? I’ve never had this feeling before, but something about him does it to me. I’m sure it happens to most women he comes across.

“I asked if you ate breakfast.”

Thankfully, the door chime interrupts us because I have a feeling Grady wouldn’t approve of me not having eaten breakfastalready. There was an underlying disappointment in his tone. Even I caught onto it, and I’m not always the most observant.

Spinning on my heel, I smile at my first regular of the day and go to make his coffee.

“Morning, Mark. Same thing?”

Mark nods and leans against the counter. He’s not much of a morning person, so he doesn’t expect me to do much talking, which is nice. While I work, though, I feel Grady’s gaze on me. I don’t think I’ve ever been watched so closely.

I cash out Mark, and as he leaves, another customer enters. That’s how it goes for the next while, so I stay busy and away from Grady. The entire time, he tracks my movements. He also glares at every male customer I help, no matter how old they are. It sends a naughty thrill up my spine. Is he jealous? That’s almost laughable.

Erin comes bouncing in at six and gets right to work. She’s a good employee and loves her job, so it’s a win-win. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, and when I glance that way, Grady taps the table with the tip of his index finger and then signals for me to come over.

Heat rushes right down to my pussy. Why does him calling me over turn me on? And why do I want to rush right over to him?

As I approach his table, he pushes the chair next to him out a few inches. Tilting my head, I smile, then lower myself to sit, partially wishing I hadn’t. His scent is potent. I’m drawn to him. I want to scoot closer. Climb onto his powerful thighs and snuggle right into his chest.

What the hell is wrong with me? Oh my God. Where are these thoughts coming from? When did I become such a needy hussy?

“Eat,” he commands softly, motioning to the untouched pastry.

Scrunching my face, I shake my head. “That’s yours.”

“I want you to eat it. You need a proper breakfast.” He picks up the fork and cuts a piece off, then stabs it. When he raises it to my mouth to feed me, I stop breathing. I’ve surely died and gone to another dimension.

“How do you know I didn’t already have breakfast?”

When he narrows his gaze and raises an eyebrow, I swallow heavily. Can he see right through me?

“Little one,” he says quietly, though there’s no missing the threat in his voice.

The last thing I want to do is disappoint him, but letting him feed me is too much, especially in the middle ofmycoffee shop. I take the fork from him, careful not to touch him in the process. He doesn’t look happy but releases it and sits back again.

“Would you like another coffee?” I ask once I swallow.

“No,” he answers simply. “You’re coming to dinner tonight.”

He says it as a statement, like the decision is already made. I shake my head and cut off another piece of pastry when he points to it.

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