Page 1 of Accidentally Joining His Cult

CHAPTERONE

Beckett

Murder was not previously on my list of things to do today. But if the person in line behind me doesn’t stop making so much fucking noise before I can even order my coffee, it’s getting added right to the top.

In the few minutes since I arrived at Joe's Coffee Shop, they've alternated between zipping and unzipping something incessantly, tapping on the display table like it's a drum set, and humming what I can only describe as pure nonsense.

Whoever this person is clearly doesn’t need any more caffeine and should leave before I snap—and I’m usually not a violent person.

Not that anyone would describe me as nice, either. I know how people see me: tattoo sleeves, dark hair, and a resting bitch face that says don't even try me. Judgy assholes take one look and make their assumptions.

My last name comes with its own baggage—a whole other list of assumptions I never signed up for.

Most people don't connect the dots just by looking at me, though.

And okay, maybe I’m being a little judgy right now, plotting this stranger's demise just because they're annoying. But at least I'm judging actions, not appearances. That counts for something, right?

I'm much nicer after I've had my coffee. I promise.

I finally turn my glare in their direction, ready to obliterate them with a look, and?—

Poof.

All my irritation evaporates.

In fact, all thoughts of anything other than how hot this guy is are impossible right now.

He’s easily the most attractive human that I’ve ever seen in person. At least three or four inches taller than my six-foot frame. His long golden hair and tan skin make him look like he spends his life on a beach, and I swear, his muscles must have muscles. They're testing the seams of his perfectly fitted suit jacket, and I really want to see what he looks like without it on. His suit looks expensive, but he still seems approachable, not giving off any of the stuck-up vibes most of the men I work with do.

The stylish laptop bag slung over his shoulder must have the loud zipper that's been inspiring my dark fantasies. Now, all I can think about is how his biceps bulge as he continues to move.

By the time our eyes meet, I have no idea what expression I’m wearing. Judging by the amused smile he flashes me, I've been very obvious about checking him out. That smile definitely belongs in a toothpaste ad.

Or in my bedroom.

And don’t even get me started on his eyes, they’re the most fascinating mix of browns, golds, and greens. They make me feel like I’m lost in a forest during golden hour, and I can’t look away.

He chuckles and, yup, hedefinitelycaught me checking him out. He doesn’t seem annoyed, though. If anything, his smile might be flirty.

Should I give him my number?Do people even do that in person anymore? Nearly all of my hookups start with apps and end with a blurry memory and a hasty goodbye.

This man seems like he could hold my attention for way longer than that, though,so maybe I should?But before I can get my thoughts together to say anything, he beats me to it.

“Do you know what you’d like?” he asks in a friendly tone.

“You,” I blurt out before I can stop it.Did I really just say that?I usually have no trouble flirting, and I’m a fairly confident person, but that was blunt even for me.

Somehow, his smile grows wider, like he didn’t hear the word vomit that just escaped my mouth. “Yeah, I’m ready,” he replies smoothly, like I’d asked him the question instead. “Did you need a minute? Want me to go in front of you?”

Even his deep voice manages to be upbeat and full of energy.

Seriously, why does this man need caffeine?

He points behind me, and the world around us comes back into focus. Right. I’m still in line at the coffee shop. At some point, I must have completely turned to face him, and I still can’t pry my eyes away from his gorgeous smile.

“Go ahead.” I open my arm out toward the register, stepping to the side and gesturing for him to go in front of me to order from the very annoyed-looking employee. I guess I’ve been holding up the line, staring for longer than I’d realized.

It takes me a few moments to pull myself together. I have never had this strong of a reaction to a man. What is it about him that has me acting like this? When the next register opens on the opposite end, I quickly order and practically jog to the pickup counter, scanning the crowd of commuters.

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