Part of me wants to argue with him because he grates on every one of my nerves, and the other half wants to kiss him senseless.
“Now aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
I spin around, catching the beaming smile of Paul, the owner of an amazing coffee cart called: Bean and Brewed. He taps the side of his cart, “Can I get you something, Ellie?”
I sigh and smile back at him. “God, yes. You’re a lifesaver.” I give him a quick hug before leaning against the cart as he prepares me my usual.
“What are you doing here so early? If you don’t mind me saying, you’re looking a little…” he makes a face, “peaky. Getting a head start on your book?” He grinds the coffee beans, the deep scent filling my nose.
“Ugh. Yes. Please tell me you have some of Betty’s chocolate and macadamia muffins with you? I need my fix.”
Paul chuckles, pulling out a white bag filled with four jumbo muffins. My precious. Grabbing one, I take a large bite, groaning as the flavors fill my mouth.
“I swear, between you and the girls, I’m surprised the bakery has any left.” Shaking his head, Paul hands me my coffee, the aroma already soothing my deprived soul. My eyes sneak back up to the top of the building, thoughts of Garrett filling my mind.
“You wouldn’t happen to know what coffee Garrett Warner drinks, would you?” I ask.
Paul stares at me for a few moments, eyebrows raised, before answering: “Ah yeah. Yeah, I do. The tall, Viking looking fella, right?”
I nod and he gets to work on making Garrett’s coffee which smells like caramel toffee. Garrett has a sweet tooth, huh? What else don’t I know about him?
“You and the girls are coming over next Saturday for the barbecue, right?” Paul asks as he cleans the coffee wand.
I nod around a mouthful of muffin, crumbs falling onto my chest, which I quickly brush off. “We’ll be there. Do we need to bring the usual?”
I’m always in charge of my famous mint chocolate cheesecake, Katie is in charge of a salad, and Mia is in charge of, well, whatever she wants. Unless you wanted food poisoning. It’s best to not have Mia cook—or be in the kitchen—at all. “I guess I can give Betty a call,” I say.
Paul shakes his head and leans in to kiss my cheek. “No, sweetheart. Just bring yourself and the rest of the crew. We miss having you guys around, and so do the girls.”
Grabbing a coffee tray, he organizes the coffees and muffins, and I hand over the cash, only for him to shake his head and push my hand back. “It’s on the house this morning. You tell the Viking I said hello, and good luck on your book.”
I smile and thank him before turning to head inside. When I first started coming here, Paul was a godsend. I never really spoke much; just let him chatter about his wife and their beautiful daughters. He was the breath of fresh air I needed after what happened.
After a while, I started to open up, asking him questions, and he did the same. He was a detective back in the day, but after having a bad case, he decided he wanted to live the simple life helping Betty with her booming bakery and manning their coffee cart every once in a while.
We bonded over months of getting to know each other, with many, many visits to Betty’s bakery. And after a few years of get-togethers, family vacations, and just plain old barbecues, they’ve become my family.
I stand in front of the elevator and wait for it impatiently, the scent of the muffins and coffees in my hands torturous. An eternity passes before we’re finally able to get in. I stare at my disheveled reflection on the inside mirror. Will he still be there?
When the elevator doors open, we rush back to my apartment and I hesitate before opening the door, much to Georgie’s confusion. This is stupid. This is my apartment. Why am I stalling? Taking a deep breath, I push it open.
Georgie rushes inside, pulling the leash from my hands. The smell of bacon wafts around the apartment, drawing him into the kitchen. I follow.
Garrett stands shirtless at the stove, his pants hanging low on his hips, cooking bacon, eggs, mushrooms, and onion. Bending down, I unhook the leash from Georgie’s neck and hang it on its hook, before taking off my coat. As the fabric brushes against my skin, I stop and look down at my bare legs. Where the hell are my pants? A blush creeps over my cheeks as I stare at them, realization dawning on me.
Idiot.
With coffee in one hand and muffins in the other, I move slowly into the kitchen before stopping a foot away from Garrett. “I’m sorry I ran away. I… I’m not very good at this. I don’t like feeling out of control, like someone else is making my decisions for me. I didn’t handle it well. I know that. And I’m sorry.”
He remains silent as he moves the food around the pan, his muscles twitching with every motion. God please say something…
“I thought you were only here because Nic told you to be. Not because you want to be,” I say.
I place the coffee and muffins on the bench next to the stove and step away. “And I know it doesn’t make up for it but this coffee smells like cavities and these muffins are more addictive than crack, so pick your poison. And accept my apology.”
Garrett’s eyes flick to them and he sighs, half-turning to me but keeping one eye on the stove. “You can’t run away just because you heard something you didn’t like. I get you were shocked and probably upset and hurt, but you’re safe with me.” He turns, dropping the spatula on the bench before taking me into his arms and tilting my face up to his.
He scowls down at me. “I only know what I do because your friends were scared and wanted to protect you. They wouldn’t have told me otherwise. Hell, Mia nearly tore Nic a new one when she found out—just like you probably felt like doing. They’re on your side. We all are. But please don’t be angry with them for keeping this from you. They honestly were trying to be good friends.” His face softens, and he kisses me lightly on the forehead. “And I’m not here because your friends asked me to keep an eye on you. Maybe it started out that way, but that was years ago. Now, I’m here because I want to be.”
Standing in his arms, Garrett’s warmth and musky smell seeps through my skin, making its way down to my bones and chasing away the chilled fear that had snuck inside. Hope blooms in my chest, but I squash it down, not entirely sure who to trust just yet.
He shakes his head, a smirk forming on his lips. “In the beginning, you were the woman I kept an eye on for my friend… But then you started opening up and giving me hell. I loved stirring you up, seeing who you were underneath.” I scowl as he chuckles, kissing my forehead. “And I want to keep finding out.”
He places a chaste kiss on my lips before turning back to the stove and pulling the pans off the fire. Talk about knowing how to make a girl swoon.
Taking out two plates, he dishes up the breakfast and places both plates on one arm. With his other hand, he grabs the coffee and muffins and winks as he strides toward the balcony door with ease. My jaw drops as he stands there, quirking his eyebrow at my expression. How in the hell does he do that?
“Can you grab the cutlery and open the door for me?”
I’m mesmerized by his warm smile and the golden glow of the morning light. Shaking off my obvious swoon, I grab knives and forks, then nudge him with my hip as I pull open the door.
Stepping through, he places his haul onto the small table, then grabs the cutlery from my hands and sets them down on the placemats before taking a seat. He grins wildly at my frown. I have placemats? Since when?
The cool air flutters around us, forming goosebumps on my arms. I run my fingers over the mats. They’re made from bamboo with a beautiful, gold cotton holding each of the individual pieces together. My eyes snap to Garrett’s, a smirk on his lips.
He seriously brought over his own placemats? I laugh, not sure whether I should be embarrassed that he had to bring his own or amused that he actually brought them.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat, so I kind of cooked a bit of everything.” His soft smile and the slight red tinge acr
oss his cheeks sends warmth through my chest. A smile pulls at my lips as I sit across from him. “Without Georgie’s input this time,” he winks.
Taking a bite of the bacon, I groan, enjoying the salty taste. “I didn’t realize I had all of this. Shows how much I pay attention to what’s in my fridge.” I laugh, taking another strip.
Snorting, Garrett takes a bite of eggs, his head tilting to the side. “You didn’t. I, uh, had to go to my place and grab a few things.”
My mouthful of bacon wedges itself in my throat, causing me to reach out and gulp down a mouthful of coffee. God, he had to bring food over too? “I’m so sorry. You really didn’t have to do all of this.”
Garrett smiles, picking up a piece of bacon before taking a bite. “I kind of had to. I was hungry and wanted to cook you breakfast. I didn’t think the moldy block of cheese and a pint of ice cream was going to cut it… Unless that’s what you’re into?”
I take a smaller sip of coffee, hiding my smile behind the cup. “No.”
“I wasn’t actually sure what you like to eat, considering all I’ve ever seen you come home with is takeout and wine. I wasn’t sure you ate home-cooked food at all,” he smirks.
I laugh as his powers of observation strike again. “Thank you for breakfast. It was a nice of you.” He’s right. We don’t know a whole let about each other. But I want to.
I lock eyes with him. “Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day,” I say. “I’ll try anything once. I hate squash. Creamed rice is disgusting. Brussel sprouts are weird. And I love a good burger.”
A smile creeps onto his lips. “I love sweet foods. I’m addicted to chocolate chip cookies. Coffee is a staple in my life… so is a good steak. I hate zucchini. And I think last night I found my new favorite taste.” My body heats as his eyes roam over me.
“How’s your week looking?” Garrett smirks, leaning back in his chair.
Sitting back, I go through the list in my head, my heart still pounding in my chest. “I have to work on my book. And by work, I mean rip it apart and put it back together. It’s a freaking mess.” I groan and stare at the sky, watching the clouds float by.
“Do you think on Friday you’ll be able to test out some of those products I mentioned last night? It’s okay if you don’t want to. I know it was a bit of a weird request.”
My eyes snap to his as I shake my head. “I’ll test them. You helped me, so it’s my turn to help you. It’s the least I can do.”
Sighing, he gives my hand a squeeze, the relief on his face clear as day. “Thank you.”
Gathering the plates from the table, Garrett takes them in to the kitchen, bending down to feed a piece of bacon to Georgie who is salivating at his feet. My heart bursts with fondness seeing the two of them get along. My boy rolls over on his back, begging for tummy rubs, which Garrett gives without complaint.
“Did you just give him bacon?” I scowl, my lips itching to smile.
Garrett’s head snaps to me, his eyes widening. “Ah… no? It fell from my hand?”
I stare at him, quirking my eyebrow at his response as his cheeks take on a ruddy tinge.
Straightening, he offers me a sheepish smile before scratching his neck. “Fine. I gave him some bacon. He was just looking so hungry…”
Snorting, I shake my head. It’s a miracle that dog’s not overweight—he’s mastered the ‘I’m hungry’ look. “It’s okay. I was just messing with you.” I laugh as Garrett narrows his eyes, pulling me against his chest.
My breath hitches at the feel of him against my skin. “Thank you for breakfast,” I manage to whisper. Moving in close, I place a quick kiss on his lips before I duck from between his arms and places the dishes into the dishwasher.
Turning, I find him watching me, his eyes roaming lazily over my face. “Let me know how your week goes and if we can meet up for dinner… Well, takeout.” I wince, knowing that I probably won’t cook.
“I will, you can count on it.” He says as he wipes down the bench. “Now that you’ve agreed to help me with these voice reviews, I need to make sure that the website and the segment is actually underway. It’s going to be a long week busting everyone’s balls to get it somewhat functional. But if I can squeeze out some spare time, I’d love to see you.”
My heart loops in my chest, my inner teen fan-girling at his words. “You’ll get it done. And you have my number, so you can always call or text when you have a break… if you want.”
Garrett chuckles. “Funnily enough, I don’t actually have your number after all this time. But I’d love to… You know, in the event I need a late- night booty call. Or an elbow to the dick, or something.” He gives me a wry grin.
Ignoring his remark, I grab a pen, scrawl my number on a sticky note, and hand it over. His head tilts to the side and his lips twitch as he whips out his phone and types the number in.
Right.
My phone dings with an incoming message, the number unknown. “Now you have mine,” he says.
He grabs his keys and wallet from the basket on the counter and slips his feet back into his shoes. I move closer and he wraps his arms around me, his lips crashing against mine.
Holy… Pulling back too soon, I stare at him in a daze as he turns away, leaving me wobbling on Bambi legs.
Leaning against the hallway wall, my gaze drifts over the remains of our night in my living room, happiness, lust, and fear swirling in the pit of my stomach.
What if he wasn’t joking? Am I just a booty call? Do I play it cool? Why isn’t there a guide for this shit? Maybe that’s what I should write next.
Groaning, I push off the wall and make my way into the living room with Georgie hot on my heels. After picking up the clothes we’d left behind and straightening my couch, I sit on the floor, cuddling with Georgie, his soft grumbles warming my heart.
What do I do?
Grabbing my laptop, I open it up to my manuscript, tilting my head from side to side as I loosen up my shoulders.
“Prepare to meet your maker.” Pun intended.
10
Ellie
“Maybe I should become a professional house-sitter… That wouldn’t be too hard. What do you think, Georgie?”
Lying upside-down on my couch, I watch Georgie play with his mountain of toys, not having a care in the world other than when he’ll next get fed.
After an entire day of staring at my laptop screen, nothing was flowing. Usually, I’d at least have a few hundred words down by now.
“Maybe I just need to close my eyes and imagine the scene…”
I sigh and push myself up, my head spinning as the blood rushes out of it. I lie back with the dizziness and close my eyes, visualizing.
Fergus, with his broad, muscular chest and McGregor colored kilt, stands erect before the wee lass. My eyes open and I scoff at myself. “That sounds creepy on so many levels…”
But I don’t have any better ideas, so I relax back and continue playing out the scene in my head. He stands before the bosomed beauty, wanting to drive his broad sword into her tight sheath… I cringe. “That sounds painful…”
Sitting up, I groan. Why does writing have to be so hard? And why does my sex scene sound like it’s been plucked right out of Saw? I need some serious inspiration.
My gaze drifts to the spare room and what lies hidden in the wardrobe. I grumble to myself, tearing my eyes away from the hall, and back to my laptop screen.
But after a few more moments of nothing, I clench my fists and grit my teeth. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, Mia.”
Hopping off the couch I run into the room, standing before the mahogany wardrobe hiding away my secret treasures—which apparently weren’t so secret if Jake could get into them. I roll my eyes at the memory and pull open the doors. The floral smell of laundry detergent hits me, but I ignore my clothes on the rail and the unopened sex toys piled amongst my shoes and look to the drawers. If I didn’t need some inspiration, I wouldn’t be caught dead doing this.
Opening the t
op one, I pull out the kilt I had drunkenly purchased one evening. Much like today, I had tried everything to get over the roadblock in my mind, but nothing had worked. So, I had grabbed a bottle of wine—or three—popped on a Scottish historical romance and sought inspiration from hot, muscular men in kilts. Funnily, I don’t remember much else from that night.
A few days later, I received a giant box containing a kilt, leather boots, scabbard, and a mock sword. When I’d called the company to find out if it was a mistake, they said I’d requested the most authentic costumes for a Georgian Era costume party. Something “to get the juices flowing.” I just hope I said mind-juice…
I don’t know whether I wanted to die of embarrassment or be impressed by drunk Ellie’s creativity. Either way, I couldn’t return the items; they’d been shipped via express postage from England and were going to cost me more to send back. So I kept them, only opening the drawer under the direst of circumstances. Which I think is today.
Ripping off my pants, I fasten the kilt around my waist, shifting it properly into place, and replace my t-shirt for a tunic. Opening the next draw, I pull out a sword, a pair of boots, and a scabbard.
Glancing at my reflection in the mirror, I laugh, taking in my badass warrior costume with a turn either direction. Warrior princess or naughty schoolgirl?
Making my way to the living room, I adjust my top before grabbing my phone and selecting my historical playlist.
Costume? Check.
Setting and vibe? Check.
Mead? Dammit… where’s the wine? Will wine work? “What am I talking about? Of course wine will work.”
Padding to the kitchen I take out a bottle of rosé and tear off the seal as I head back into the lounge room. Mugs? Bah! Who uses mugs? Not this warrior.
Taking a sip from the bottle, I shake my arms and bounce on my feet, loosening my body. All right. Embrace my inner Scottish man.
“I am a burly man… A hunky, burly man.”
Georgie tracks my movements as I continue to shake about.
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