Page 11 of Without You

Katie

“Fancy seeing you here,” a male voice says against my ear, the heat of his obviously large body presses against my back and I spin around quickly. What greets me is the man I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I last saw him at my friend’s wedding reception two weeks ago.

“Brody.”

“Katie.”

We stare at each other for a few beats then it’s my turn to order.

“Large black coffee, room for a splash of cream and a blueberry scone, please.”

“Got it. And for you, sir?”

“Oh, we’re not…”

“Same. My treat.” Brody hands over a twenty-dollar bill and winks at me, much like he did at Hannah’s reception and just like it did then, my insides clench.

I’ve had a crush on this man for as long as I’ve known him. Not just a fleeting crush, either. I’m talking, full on daydreams about him, green with jealousy when Hannah and he were together, and wanting to contact him the second I heard about their breakup to see how he was. I hadn’t seen him in a few years when he showed up at Hannah and Cameron’s wedding reception, but one look in his direction told me that I hadn’t gotten over my crush. Not in the slightest.

There are so many things about Brody Redding that I just… like.

So handsome.

Funny.

Hard working.

Kind. Oh my gosh, he’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. Always willing to help someone out, lend a hand to complete strangers.

And don’t even get me started on him. He’s… all man.

His hands are calloused and slightly grease-stained. Arms full of muscle. Damn, he’s so sexy and I know that he knows it, but he doesn’t act like it. He’s confident in who he is, but he’s not cocky by any means. And his smile? It’s the single most amazing smile I’ve ever seen in my life. Especially when his jaw is covered by perfectly-groomed scruff like it is now, his smile is heart-stopping.

He’s wearing boot cut jeans that drape over heavy brown work boots, a dark gray t-shirt with the Carhartt logo on his left chest, and a wooden cross that hangs from a thin black leather string. It looks like something that’s handcrafted and I wonder if his daddy made it for him because back in the day, I remember he used to create a lot of jewelry, ornaments, decorate boxes and other little, intricate things out of wood.

My eyes eat up every gorgeous bit of him in a matter of only a few seconds but when they travel back up to meet his, I don’t see anything other than exactly what I know my eyes are showing, too.

Heat.

Want.

Desire.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say quietly, remembering my manners when it comes to him buying me a coffee and breakfast pastry. “But, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

We wait patiently for our drinks as we’re handed our plastic-wrapped scones.

“These scones are amazing. Have you had them before?” I ask, feeling a little awkward because I don’t know what to say to him.

“I haven’t.”

“But you ordered one?”

He shrugs one of his strong shoulders. “I trust you.”

Those three words. They do something to me.

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