“Have a seat,” he said to me in a voice that should have been illegal in at least forty-six states. It was growly and deep, extremely hot, and I immediately thought about having a seat on his lap instead of the spot next to him.
I cleared my throat awkwardly and prayed to God I wasn’t looking as hot as I felt as I settled in next to him because my shock had obviously made me completely stupid.
As soon as I was seated, I had the realization that I was sitting with a complete stranger in a city I knew hardly anything about except that it could be dangerous. I was either completely out of my mind or the devastatingly handsome man had put some kind of spell on me with his good looks. I was a nitwit, just like the girl at the park. Shoot me.
I shot up off the bench and stood in front of him. I wouldn’t be duped. I was on a no-man ban. Also, stranger danger!
He nodded and smiled at me strangely. “Okay, don’t have a seat then.”
He grabbed my coffee off the arm of the bench and tried to hand it to me.
I said the first thing that came to mind. “You’re a stranger.”
He smiled a huge smile and, lord have mercy, the man had dimples that peeped through his five o-clock shadow. What was I supposed to do with that? Freaking deep dimples and gorgeous white teeth.
He pushed his hand out in front of him. “I’m Whitaker Aldrich, but my friends call me Whit.”
I swallowed hard, not knowing what the hell to do. My eyes darted to the left and right before finally landing back on his outstretched hand. Finally, I placed my hand in his, mine looking abnormally small against his own.
He gave my hand a firm squeeze. “And you are?” he asked, his eyes dancing with mirth.
I pulled back my clammy hand. “I’m Grace. Grace Abernathy.” I tried to say it with gumption, but my stupid voice cracked.
“Well, then. Now that we’re not strangers, will you please accept this coffee?” He held it out again and I stared at it.
“But I didn’t want coffee. I wanted a Frappuccino,” I stated the obvious. And, oh my God, I sounded like a damn caveman. Coffee. Not. Want. Me. Grace. God, this man was making me act ridiculous.
He gave me a crooked smile and still his eyes danced. “I’m aware. But you see, Anil only serves coffee. Nothing fancy. You can get cream and sugar with it and that’s about it.”
I felt my mouth form an O. That explained the look on Anil’s face. But this dude didn’t have to be so damn smug about it. And I was just getting ready to tell him so when he interrupted me.
“And since you were holding up his line, I thought I would save you from him and the group of people behind us. You were about to cause a coffee riot.”
Damn it. He was right. I nodded, everything making perfect sense.
He held out the coffee cup further in my direction and I took it. “Thank you,” I said and completely caved, taking a seat right next to him. What? My feet and legs were killing me.
He crossed one of his ankles over his knee and turned in my direction. He leaned back nonchalantly as he took a sip of his coffee.
Meanwhile, I tried not to notice his perfectly plump lips or the slight bump in his nose that only made his face more masculine looking. Forget those high cheekbones that were meant for a runway.
“So, where are you from, Grace Abernathy?” he asked, one of his dark, thick eyebrows raised and suddenly my hackles were right back up.
Everyone I talked to in New York asked me immediately where I was from. Most with a little crinkle in their nose like my southern accent somehow smelled bad. While Whitaker didn’t have that bad smell face going on, he had still triggered the hell out of me with his question.
“Why? Does my southern accent offend you?” I accused before taking a deep drink of my coffee and deciding that Anil had some of the best damn coffee in the city and Frappuccinos or not, I would definitely be returning to that truck as soon as I figured out how to get back there.
He uncrossed his legs and spread them before leaning his elbows to his knees so he was a tad closer to me. “Not in the least. It’s actually quite adorable.”
An awkward sense of flattery settled over me. “I bet you say that to all the girls,” I muttered, not knowing what to say at all. My cheeks burned like I’d been on the beach all day and despite myself, I felt a smile creeping over my face. It didn’t matter if he did say that to all the girls. This girl was flattered as hell. “North Carolina,” I squeaked out, answering his question. He was pulling me in. And I was like a fish on a hook. I knew it and I still couldn’t stop it.
“Mmm,” he rumbled out, seemingly deep in thought before asking, “How long have you been here?” He took a long sip of coffee, but his eyes never left mine.
He bought me a coffee. He was trying to have a casual conversation. It was strange and nice all at once.
I felt nervous telling a virtual stranger so much personal information but he seemed harmless and it was, after all, how I had made friends with Clive.
“Only about a month.” I drank another big gulp of coffee, suddenly thankful for the romance ruiner or maybe I would have never experienced the deliciousness of Anil’s coffee.
“It’s good, right?” he asked, grinning at me like we were old friends, instead of strangers. It was oddly comforting and I hated myself for it. I needed to make friends here, instead of being so desperate for a man’s attention.
I was admittedly lonely in the city. Tig and Delia were busy with their business and I didn’t want to hound them all the time. But I had Clive and he was an amazing friend. I felt stupid, so easily eating up this little bit of attention Whitaker was willing to pay me. Besides, I’d already decided he was a bad boy and I was done with those.
“And what made you move here, Grace Abernathy?” My name rolled off his tongue way too sweetly.
I fumbled over my next words, trying to decide if I should tell him I was just some silly young girl trying to follow her dreams of becoming a romance writer in a big city. I felt like he would think it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. Him, so proper and put together and me, still figuring things out in so many ways.
I stood up, wrapping my purse around me. “Well, I should start heading home. It’s a long trek back to Brooklyn.” I didn’t know if it was long or not because I had no clue where the hell I was anyway. I held up my cup in front of me. “Thanks for the coffee, Whitaker.” His name sounded sweet on my tongue, too, and I knew I needed to get the hell out of there. He was going to throw those dimples back at me any minute and a girl could only take so much. I’d be sitting back down before I knew it and spilling my whole life story.
He stood up, too, and walked closer to me. “I could give you a ride? I’m only parked down the block.” He motioned behind him, nervously, and I found it so adorable that I almost said yes.
Until I remembered that I didn’t know him at all. And he wanted to give me a ride. Was he crazy? “Uh, no thanks. I’m going to take the train.” I started walking backward and he cracked a smile, followed by a deep chuckle that made my stomach do a flip-flop that I shouldn’t have liked one bit, but I somehow liked so much.
“If you’re headed to Brooklyn, then you probably want to go that way.” He pointed behind him.
Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all. “Oh, yeah, I knew that,” I muttered as I walked toward him and pretended to play it cool when I was pretty sure I looked like a lost, hot mess.