I took a sip.
Goddamn.
It was perfect.
4
Walter
The look of satisfaction on Arlo’s face was enthralling.
He was holding the mug with both hands, his long fingers curled around the green ceramic, and he had a furrow between his brow as he considered, taking small sip after small sip.
“I take it that you like tea,” I said, holding back a grin.
Arlo looked up at me, his hazel eyes narrowing for a split second—just a beat, a half a moment, as he considered me as closely as I was considering him—before he relaxed, smiling as he lifted the mug back up to his lips. “I do.”
The light of the kitchen is brighter than it was in the other room, more fluorescent and cold. With the main room decorated in soft-covered lamps and candles, it’s unarguable that Arlo must’ve looked better in that room. Yet, the soft curve of his full lips, the long lashes that brushed the swell of his cheeks when he blinked, the light pink blush that covered the bridge of his nose as the steam of the tea blew—he was absolutely mesmerizing.
I had forgotten this feeling, the thrill of the chase, the burning underneath my fingertips and the way my lips would tingle with complete want at the hooded, half-lidded gazes sent to me across the room. I had forgotten how good it was to be in a place where my tastes weren’t judged, where what I wanted and needed from a relationship was viewed as normal, not as something to feel shame for—nothing out of the ordinary here, no matter how out of the ordinary what someone wanted felt.
Arlo set the mug on the table, his long fingers running a trail around the mouth of the mug.
“I wasn’t expecting to meet—” Arlo stopped, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he held the words in. I watched him, so expressive, as the thoughts and considerations whirled around in his head. I had never met someone quite so expressive, quite so open with their thoughts and feelings, even as they were careful with them. It was captivating to watch him as he thought.
“Someone so ruggedly handsome?” I supplied, giving him my largest grin.
He quirked an eyebrow and rolled his eyes, even as his cheeks flushed. “Someone so good at making tea.”
I laughed. “Know your way around a kettle, then?”
“More than you’d think,” he said wryly, nodding to himself as he lifted the mug again. He blew out once, a soft breath through parted lips, and then took a large drink of the tea. “I actually own my own tea shop.”
“Your own tea shop,” I repeated, surprised.
Tea was a lucrative business but it wasn’t necessarily a popular one—I could count the number of tea shops in the area on my fingers, my own included.
It couldn’t have been that—
Arlo waited a beat, his brows furrowed, before he shrugged one shoulder lightly and straightened up a little. “It’s called TeaMuse. I doubt you’ve been.”
TeaMuse.
The very TeaMuse that I was suing for property, that was a royal pain in my ass. The very shop that had me so wound up that I had to be here in the first place.
“Why’s that?” I was almost surprised at how even my voice sounded.
If this was the owner of TeaMuse, then that meant that Arlo was the Arlo Stone. I hadn’t known much about him—couldn’t even remember if I knew his first name before now. I had been letting Tamsin deal with it all.
I should tell him—interrupt him and let him know that I knew who he was, that I was the owner of Rogue Enterprises, that I was the one trying to get him to sell his second location. He took my expansion space.
Arlo tilted his head, eyes bright. “I would have recognized you if you had come into my shop. I know that for sure.”
Something surprising happened—
The muscles in my chest jumped, a feeling of complete shy delight rushing through my sternum and up into my throat, momentarily choking me.
Arlo was watching me with the softest of smiles, his hazel eyes shining and a blush on his cheeks. He looked—perfect.
I leaned closer to him. “I would have certainly recognized you, too.”
He sucked in a breath, eyes growing wider. Then, he shook his head, small little motions that I accidentally copied. “I actually just opened up my second location.”
“You seem—busy,” I said, carefully.
Arlo shrugged. “Yeah, the days are long. But it’s worth it.”
“The tea shop,” I deliberately avoided using the name, avoided making myself sound too familiar, and a short pang of guilt vibrated in my chest. “The tea shop is your dream then?”
Arlo let out a small scoff, as if embarrassed by such phrasing, but eventually his eyes slid back to mine and he said quietly, “Well, yeah.”
Another shot of pang.
I reached over and took the mug out of his hands, taking a large drink of cooling tea. I needed something to do with my hands, my mouth, to give myself a moment to think.
Arlo watched me with a look of utter fascination. I wondered if I was looking at him the same way.
“It was my Granddad’s dream,” Arlo said, after a short beat of silence. “We built the first TeaMuse together. He’d always wanted to have a shop. Thought being a business owner was the finest profession a man could have,” Arlo said the words with an air of awe and a twinge of an accent that must have been an impersonation of his grandfather. “He died, shortly after we opened the first shop. But I guess, somewhere along the way, it sort of became my dream, too. And, you know, not a bad way to honor the guy.”
It took me a moment to speak, to gather my voice from the wave of regret I felt. I certainly didn’t run Rogue Enterprises as a way to honor my father—if anything, my decisions were a purposeful attempt at not honoring him in any way. My father had been a bad man. He was small and cruel and everything he touched failed. I couldn’t imagine doing something in honor of him. It felt like my every step was to put more distance between his life and my name.
It also didn’t help the narrative of squashing the TeaMuse company like a bug, if it came to it.
“That’s nice,” I settled on eventually. I was sure that Arlo would be able to hear the way my voice had shifted, the way that I was leaning away now.
But Arlo was looking away at a far wall, his own body language uncomfortable. It would be no surprise to me if Arlo hadn’t intended on saying any of that—if he preferred silence to connection.
I was certainly the same way.
Perhaps this was a stroke of luck—if I could find the chink in Arlo’s armor, a crack in the business to exploit, perhaps I could find the perfect way to make him settle on the expansion property. After all, if he was to give me this information, no matter how unwittingly, I could make sure that the deal was good for him, that he got what he needed, too.
In a way, it was hospitable of me. Looking at the young man, knowing what I did of his records, I knew that I would win the battle eventually—court fees alone would bankrupt Arlo. I had to assume that was part of the reason he was here tonight as a consort. I was not so naive to pretend like the young men valued companionship over the lifestyle that was provided for them, the security. It was a mutually beneficial relationship—perhaps making sure that Arlo got a good deal from the company was part of those benefits.