Page 11 of Property of Chux

"Alaina."

Her breath catches. Gotcha, I think while smirking.

Her name sounds good on my tongue, better than I expected.

She blinks, like she’s trying to figure out how the hell I know it. Her throat moves as she swallows, and I watch her closely, noting the way her fingers tighten around the counter’s edge.

"You—" she starts, then stops. "You know my name."

I let my smirk deepen. "Yeah."

I see the confusion in her eyes, the hesitation, the way she’s trying to keep her guard up but failing miserably.

"You don’t wear a name tag," I continue, leaning a little against the counter, crowding her space just enough to make her aware of me.

I hear her inhale sharply. She’s flustered, and shehatesthat she’s flustered. She is rarely rattled. I’ve come in regularly enough to know.

"You’ve been coming in here?" she asks, voice softer now, like she’s trying to understand how I know anything about her.

That is the thing about her and even the Kelly chick that works here. They both are this dynamic duo, but so focused on pastries, puffs, and serving the customers they don’t see all the things and people around them.

They are comfortable.

I like that. The caveman inside me wants her to feel safe anywhere I’m tied to. But, she knows nothing of me and my kind. She is anything but safe around me.

I tilt my head. "Maybe."

The truth is, I’ve noticed her before. Every time I’ve come in, every time she’s been too busy behind the counter to pay any attention. But I noticed.

And I liked what I saw.

She shifts on her feet, probably without even realizing she’s doing it, like she doesn’t know whether she wants to back away or lean in closer.

I decide for her.

I reach up, slow and deliberate, and slip my sunglasses off, letting her get the full effect of my gaze. Her breath hitches again.

Yeah. That’s the reaction I wanted.

"Pipe’s fixed?" I ask, my voice low and sure. "Prospects didn’t screw it up, did they?"

She blinks, like she has to force herself to focus.

"N-No," she stammers, then scowls, like she’s mad at herself for sounding breathless. "I mean yes. It’s fine. They are fine. Everything is fine."

I glance over at Dipshit #1 and Dipshit #2, who are watching this whole exchange like they might take notes. I give them a sharp look.

"Outside. Now."

They scramble out the door without question, leaving me alone with her.

I turn back to her, tapping my fingers on the counter. "You got a problem, sweetheart?"

Her spine stiffens. "I don’t have a problem. I just didn’t know who was my landlord. It’s been an eventful morning.” She gathers her composure no longer taken aback by my presence.

I study her for a second. "And now that you know?"

She lifts her chin, forcing herself to meet my gaze. "I don’t see how it matters."

---