The Barista's Beloved (The River Hill Series Book 4)

by Rebecca Norinne

  She laughed as he practically threw her down onto it. “Was there something you wanted?”

  “You, Maeve. Always you.” He stared down at her, and she stopped laughing. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his pupils dilated with desire.

  She reached up and pulled him to her. Their lips met, and she opened to the soft pressure of his tongue. His hands were everywhere, and hers weren’t far behind. She managed to get a solid handful of his perfect ass before he shifted, dragging his fingers down her side and over her thigh. He found her clit, circled it with precision, and she spared a moment to thank any deity she could think of that he was far better at this than he was at making coffee.

  Then all thought was lost because his fingers were in her, and his mouth was on her, and she was riding a wave of pleasure that crested as she gasped his name. His fingers disappeared momentarily, but before she could protest, they were replaced by something much more satisfying as he slid inside her. He pressed deep and paused, both of them breathing hard. They stared at each other, and then Ben bent and kissed her again, their tongues tangling and breath mingling. And then he started to move, and she lost herself to the moment.

  Pressure built, and she arched underneath him as he grabbed her hips and shifted both of them to a new angle. When he thrust home again, she barely held back a scream. He kept going, strong and steady, as he managed to hit every single pleasure center she possessed on each upward stroke. When his mouth found her nipple and bit lightly, she saw white light behind her eyes as she exploded into wild pleasure. She clutched his shoulders, digging her nails in, and rode out her orgasm as he slammed into her twice more before shuddering her name and thrusting wildly as he came long and hard.

  The second time, they moved to the rug, and Maeve thought she’d never come so hard in her life as she did with the whispery tickles of the rug against her skin and the warm heat of Ben above her. He leaned his forehead against hers, still inside her, both of them breathing hard. She didn’t want him to move, wanted to keep him over her and in her and all around her forever.

  “I’m going to buy one of these rugs,” he whispered. She felt herself tighten around him involuntarily and he jerked a little, both of them shuddering through aftershocks brought on by the thought of doing this again and again. She didn’t know what exactly was in his head, but she imagined the two of them on a giant fur rug in the middle of her living room and couldn’t help but let out a little moan.

  Eventually, they made it back to the bed and collapsed together in a tangled pile of limbs. When she woke up, he was curled around her, her head pillowed on his arm and his lips pressed against her shoulder even in sleep.

  She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of sex and Ben, and smiled. Snagging the suite had definitely been a good idea. When he’d told her that he’d gotten tickets to see Ireland play, she’d been ridiculously charmed by his thoughtfulness; she’d mentioned liking rugby maybe once in passing. That lawyer brain of his was like a steel trap, apparently. He remembered everything from her favorite coffee order to her least favorite pair of shoes.

  Speaking of his lawyer brain …

  She twisted within the circle of his arms and rolled to face him, discovering him watching her sleepily.

  “What are you thinking about?” he murmured.

  “Youth Mentors.” She answered honestly, without thinking.

  He raised an eyebrow. “We’re naked in bed and you’re thinking about your volunteer organization? I thought I did better than that.”

  She snorted out a laugh. “If you do any better I won’t be able to walk for a week. I was thinking about you, and your sexy brain.”

  He looked faintly amused. “You think my brain is sexy?”

  She nodded. “Of course I do.” She shifted, tucking herself closer in to him, and his arms tightened around her. “Tell me honestly; do you think the motion you filed will work? Will the developers back off?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I threw the kitchen sink at them. And I know what I’m doing, Maeve. I don’t mean to brag, but I always get my man. So to speak.” He smirked, and something in her belly twisted unexpectedly. His tone was oddly similar to Steve’s when he’d talked about ‘closing the deal,’ just one of the many red flags about the other lawyer she’d ignored.

  But Ben wasn’t like that, she told herself. Ben was good, and kind … and the exact same kind of corporate lawyer, her annoying brain reminded her. He’d admitted himself that he’d never been on the same side as places like Youth Mentors. He’d always been the bad guy.

  Maeve shook her head. She had to trust him. She’d already trusted him. He’d proven himself over and over again, and she didn’t need to worry. She didn’t dare think too far into the future, but nobody who made love like Ben did could possibly be a bad guy. Her legendary bad luck streak with men was finally over. It had to be.

  16

  It was barely ten o’clock in the morning, but already Ben was dragging. Maeve had secured a late check-out from the hotel, but instead of heading back to River Hill, he’d taken her to dinner at his favorite ramen restaurant in San Francisco’s Outer Richmond district. Afterward, they’d driven out to Ocean Beach to watch the waves roll in until the wind coming off the Pacific had chased them back to his car. He’d finally pulled into his driveway around midnight, and when it came time for sleep, he’d sorely missed the luxurious bed back at the hotel … and Maeve curled into his side while in it.

  When his alarm went off five hours later, Ben had wanted nothing more than to turn it off and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, he had a job to do, and on Monday mornings that meant arriving at The Hollow Bean at a quarter to six for his eight-hour shift.

  Ben’s dry, scratchy eyes flicked back up to check the time on the clock once again. While the two days he’d spent with Maeve had been worth it, he knew it wasn’t something he could make a habit of. Assuming, of course, he continued working as a barista—something he grappled with more and more every day. He’d taken the job here as a stop-gap while he figured out what to do with his life, but the time was quickly approaching when it could no longer be considered temporary.

  Unfortunately, he was no closer to knowing what came next today than he’d been when he’d arrived in River Hill four months ago and knocked on Max’s door. With a sigh of resignation, he admitted it was probably time for him to revisit the most recent batch of emails he’d received from headhunters. He knew for certain he didn’t want to go back to a firm like Baker, Thompson, and Keene, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other jobs out there more suited to his ambitions.

  Which begged the question: what were his ambitions these days?

  Ben’s manager cleared his throat loudly. “You going to stand around daydreaming all day, or are you going to give that man his coffee?”

  Ben felt his ears turn pink with embarrassment. That was the other thing. He’d been doing this job for months, and while he was no longer the disaster he’d been on that first day, he also hadn’t ever gotten very good at it. And he wasn’t used to anything less than excellence. “Sorry. Coming right up.”

  He finished making the no-foam soy latte and turned to pass it to the waiting customer but his hand halted midway over the counter. Standing across from him was a smirking Steve Smith. The bruise from where Ben had punched him had faded to a mottled yellow with faint purple shadows near the bridge of his nose.

  “Barista-slash-lawyer.” Smith scoffed and shook his head. “You know how pathetic that sounds, right?”

  Ben ground his teeth together to prevent himself from saying something that could potentially bring his manager’s wrath down upon him. Some days it felt like Rodney was just waiting for him to fuck up so badly that he could fire him on the spot. He couldn’t give Smith the satisfaction of being the one to add the final nail to his coffin.

  “Here’s your latte.” He pushed it the rest of the way over the counter.

  Smith grabbed hold of the to-go cup, but instead of leaving, he eyeballed Ben with a spe
culative gleam.

  Ben had seen that look once before—back at Frankie’s, right before the other man had wrapped his arm around Maeve and tugged her in close to his side. It was a little bit knowing and a lot bit predatory.

  “I looked into you after you left my office the other week. Quite the fall from grace you’ve had.” He raised one eyebrow.

  Ben was pretty sure it’d been waxed and sculpted into that high arch.

  “That’s nice,” he responded. Do not engage. Do not engage. Do not engage. “Have a good afternoon.” Ben hoped the guy would take the not-so-subtle the hint and get the fuck out of there.

  He didn’t. Instead, he rested his hip against the counter and set his coffee down next to him, adopting a pose that indicated he was settling in for a nice, long friendly chat. Ben stifled an impatient groan. “Telling your firm’s biggest client to go fuck himself wasn’t the best move for your career.” Smith glanced around the coffee shop meaningfully. “Obviously.”

  “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  Ignoring the question, Smith continued undeterred. “Not smart, but it took giant fucking balls, I’ll give you that. Still, probably ruined your chances of getting hired again in San Francisco. Why didn’t you just move to another city?” He raised that damn eyebrow again.

  “I did. It’s called River Hill,” Ben answered curtly. He didn’t understand where this conversation was going, or why the other lawyer was showing an interest in him. He just wanted the man to leave so he could finish out the rest of his shift in peace. His head was pounding, and he needed a fucking nap.

  Smith snorted and rolled his eyes. “You and I both know your talents are wasted in a place like this. That move with the EPA was brilliant, by the way. My boss practically had a coronary when I told him about it. He ranted and raved for a good ten minutes about what a prick you were.” He paused and leaned forward dramatically, lowering his voice as if to impart an important secret. “And then he asked what it would take to hire you away from Youth Mentors.”

  Ben must not have heard him right. It sounded like the developer wanted to give him a job. That couldn’t be right. “He did what, now?”

  Smith chuckled and leaned away. “You get Youth Mentors to withdraw all their petitions and counter-motions, and Hartwell Properties will set you up with a sweet ass contract in Honolulu, overlooking Waikiki Beach, the land of constant sun and itsy bitsy bikinis.”

  Ben knew he was tired as fuck, but that made zero sense. “What?”

  “I was there on the last project. Six months of absolute bliss, man.” Smith smiled wolfishly, as though the two of them had something in common. What he thought that was, Ben couldn’t be sure. “You work four … five hours a day tops, and then you spend the rest of your time trolling the hotel lobby bars for sexy tourists who are in town and looking to hook up with a local. You would not believe how many bachelorette parties are there on any given weekend.” He waggled his eyes suggestively.

  “But you aren’t a local,” was the first thing that popped into Ben’s mind and out of his mouth. Frankly, he was still trying to figure out what the fuck was happening here.

  Smith just laughed. “No, I’m not, but they didn’t need to know that.” Suddenly, he leaned forward, all pretense of joviality gone. “You in or what? My boss needs to know by Friday.”

  Ben scratched his jaw. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say.”

  Smith slapped an envelope on the counter and pushed it toward Ben. “Well, you’d better figure it out soon, because this offer has an expiration date. You make sure the deal goes through here, and you could be sitting pretty in Hawaii in less than six weeks.” He grabbed his coffee and took a few steps backward toward the door. He raised the cup in farewell. “Make the right decision, man. For both of us.” Then he was gone.

  Ben stood there for several long moments staring at the closed door. His head was pounding, and his mind was whirring. He didn’t trust Smith as far as he could throw him, but the offer was compelling, he was forced to admit. A six-month contract could be precisely what he needed to test the waters at a new employer. If he didn’t enjoy the work, he could always pack up his suitcase and head back to … where? Portland, and his parents? As much as he loved them, no. That was definitely out of the question.

  Suddenly, an image of Maeve standing on her front porch, her mouth split in a beatific smile, popped into his head. In his imagination, she threw her arms wide in welcome, and he dropped his leather satchel to his feet and marched purposefully toward her. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her soundly. He let the daydream unfurl, giving it a full backstory. He’d missed her so damn much, even though she’d visited him in Oahu only three weeks before, but three weeks without seeing her precious face and kissing her delectable lips had been just about the extent of what he could handle. They’d spent the first twenty-four hours of her visit holed up in a bedroom overlooking Diamond Head before venturing out to explore the island for the next two days. When she’d left, it had felt like she’d taken a piece of his heart with her. But the separation had been good, too. It had given him time to figure out what he wanted to do professionally, while replenishing the bank account he’d depleted while working as a barista. Now he could move back to River Hill and be the type of partner Maeve deserved. Someone who didn’t live above his best friend’s garage in a three-hundred-and-fifty square foot studio that became unbearably hot when the temperature soared above seventy degrees. Someone who was her equal.

  Splat.

  Ben was pulled from his daydream by the sound of a wet towel being slapped down onto the counter next to him. His eyes flicked between it and the red face of his boss.

  “That’s it, Worthington,” Rodney said, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth as he glared at Ben. “I’ve given you a million chances because I respect the hell out of Max, but I’m done. I need employees who know what the hell they’re doing, and that’s not you. Bobby’s been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes, but you’re standing there staring out the window like some lunatic while you pour milk all over my goddamn floor.” He pointed angrily at Ben and then at the tiles at their feet.

  Ben’s gaze followed, landing on an empty quart of milk in his left hand. “Shit!” All thoughts of Maeve and his career pushed to the furthest recesses of his mind, he tossed the empty container into the trash can and picked up a crumpled wad of towels. Throwing them down onto the puddle, he dropped to a crouch and began wiping up the mess.

  After a few seconds, Rodney’s hand fell onto his shoulder. “Don’t bother. Just go.”

  Hesitantly, Ben rose to his full height, a good six inches over his balding manager. He swallowed deeply. “Go?”

  Rodney nodded and stuck out his palm. “I’m gonna need your apron, son.”

  Ben stared at him for a beat, trying to process what the fuck had just happened. One minute he was making coffee, the next he was getting fired. Again. And somewhere in the middle, he’d apparently been offered a job that could be the answer to all his problems.

  If only it wasn’t working for the company that’s trying to ruin the organization you’re currently trying to save, his conscience reminded him.

  Yes, if only.

  Ben slowly lifted the apron off over his head and passed it to the other man, trying to work through his shock. “I’m—”

  “Save it,” Rodney interrupted. “You were never cut out for this job, Ben, and we both know it.”

  And that was the crux of the situation, wasn’t it? The only thing Ben knew how to do was be a lawyer—the type that ran point on corporate takeovers and hard-fought negotiations. He’d turned down his nose at Steve Smith, but they were more alike than Ben cared to admit. Sure, he wasn’t a complete sleazeball like the other man, but at the end of the day, they were cut from the same corporate cloth. Maybe it was time he accepted the truth and moved on. After all, there were worse places in the world than Hawaii.

  He pushed the doors of The Hollow
Bean open and stepped out into the bright spring afternoon. The historic town square was filled with moms pushing strollers, old men walking their happy little dogs, and little old ladies sitting together on park benches knitting. In the gazebo, two people were being instructed on how to waltz. Everything—from the bright pink tulips dotting the brick pathways to the colorful banners advertising the upcoming spring festival—was picture perfect.

  No, Honolulu wasn’t bad, but neither was River Hill. Too bad he couldn’t seem to claw out a real future here.

  17

  Maeve shut the door of her car and leaned against it in the driveway of The Oakwell Inn. She stretched, feeling her muscles loosening and her body relaxing. After a long night and day with Ben—followed by an even longer day at work—she really should be getting caught up on her sleep. But a meeting of River Hill’s super secret romance book club was not to be missed.

  Angelica had inadvertently started the club when she’d made Naomi read some of her beloved historical romances. Maeve and Jess had joined later on, and now she relished the infrequent meetings—they could only meet when Angelica’s inn wasn’t booked, which was rare these days. They probably could have gathered at any of the other members’ houses, but Maeve and Jess’s places were too small, and Naomi was weird about people being in her house. Iain lived there, too, but Maeve rarely visited her brother at home. They saw each other plenty at work and with their friends. So now, whenever Angelica had a free night, the romance bat signal went up, and they gathered here at The Oakwell to discuss their latest read.

  Maeve slung her green canvas messenger bag over her shoulder and patted it warmly, feeling the outline of the paperback inside. This month, they’d read a book about a woman who’d discovered that the supposedly spam emails she’d been receiving from an African prince were the real thing, and she was actually an actual modern day princess. Reading about the heroine balancing love, royal duties, and her desire to have a career in public health had been a joy—and the sex scenes had been great, too.