I bring my eyes back to his. But I can’t get a read on him. There’s nothing in his expression to tell me whether he truly meant what he said or if he was just being polite.
“Well, you thought something. Enough to sit in a coffee shop with your laptop to avoid seeing me. And … I, uh … feel bad.”
A smile appears in his eyes, and it warms my chest.
“You feel bad because I’m sitting in a nice, warm coffee shop?”
“No. Yes. No.” I press my fingertips to my forehead, trying to gather my suddenly scattered thoughts. This guy has a way of making me feel flustered and confused at the drop of a hat. It’s disconcerting. “I feel bad because you feel like you can’t come to the library because I’m there. Because of what happened … you know … at the supermarket.”
He sighs and sits forward, pushing down the lid of his laptop, resting his hands on top of it. “Look, Audrey, truth is, I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just trying to give you a little space. I didn’t want you feeling uncomfortable at your place of work because of me.”
“You wouldn’t have made me feel uncomfortable.”
He gives me a knowing look, telling me he’s aware that he makes me feel uncomfortable.
He does but not for the reasons he thinks.
It’s because I’m attracted to him … well, attraction is maybe too tame a word for what I feel when I’m around this guy.
“Okay,” I concede. “I would have felt a tad uncomfortable for about thirty seconds, and then I would have been fine.”
He laughs a low sound, and I feel it in my chest and between my legs. The urge to press my thighs together is real.
“Are you staying?” he asks me.
“I haven’t decided,” I answer truthfully.
“I was just going to get another coffee. Why don’t you let me buy you one—in a takeout cup? And then you can decide to stay or not …” He lets his words hang.
I hesitate.
Jesus, it’s just coffee. That I can take with me if I want to.
It’s not like I’m making besties with the guy.
“Okay.” I find myself nodding my agreement. “But I was also going to grab a cinnamon-and-raisin bagel.”
Smiling, he stands. “I’ll get that in a takeout bag as well.”
He walks past me, his arm brushing mine ever so slightly. The scent of him invades and assaults my senses. I feel somewhat dazed and wobbly. Like a new foal trying to find its legs.
Maybe that’s why I hear myself saying, “Jack?”
He turns back. “Yeah?”
“I, uh … I don’t need a takeout cup or bag.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. A dimple appearing in his cheek that I didn’t notice before. “Okay.”
I take a seat on the chair I was holding on to, making sure not to look at Jack across the coffee shop.
He returns five minutes later with our coffees and my bagel.
“Thanks,” I say to him when he puts my food and drink in front of me. “How much do I owe you?”
“It’s on me.”
“You sure?” I check.
“I’m sure. I still owe you for looking out for Eleven.”
“Like I said before, I didn’t mind. She’s a friendly kitty. How is she, by the way? She made any more escape attempts?” I ask because I haven’t seen her in a while so I’m assuming she’s stayed put.
“Nope. She’s decided to take a break from escaping the apartment.”
I laugh, picking my coffee up and taking a sip. “Has she always been an escape artist?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I only got her recently. I had just come back to the States, and I found her wandering down the side of the freeway. She’s lucky she didn’t get killed. Anyway, I pulled my bike over, and she came to me, no problem. Practically leaped into my arms. She was scared witless. I took her to the local vet, and she wasn’t microchipped. They thought that she had been dumped by her owner. So, it was either she stayed with me or went to a shelter. There was never any question that I wouldn’t take her home to live with me.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his own coffee.
She was dumped? And he rescued her.
Sweet Jesus.
An unexpected lump appears in my throat. “I hate people sometimes. Well, most of the time,” I say. “Humans really don’t deserve animals.”
He’s watching me with those sharp, knowing eyes of his, and I suddenly feel like I said too much. When, really, I haven’t said much at all.
“I would agree with you on that. We don’t deserve animals. But I wouldn’t say I hate people. There are some shitty ones. But overall, most people are good.”
I say nothing. Because I don’t have anything to add.
I pick at my bagel, putting a piece in my mouth. “So, you said you came back to the States recently. Had you lived abroad?”
I don’t know why I’m asking questions and being this nosy; it is out of the norm for me. When I ask questions, they usually get asked back, so I don’t put myself in that situation. But something about Jack has me intrigued.
“I had just come back from Syria. I was in the military. It was my last tour.”
“Oh, wow. Well, thank you for your service.” The words immediately bounce back at me, and I cringe. “Was that as patronizing as it sounded in my head?”
He laughs. “No. And my service was my pleasure.”
The smile on his lips and the look in his eyes make those words sound a whole lot less clean than he said them, and it makes me feel flustered. And hot.
I take another sip of my coffee.
“So, you’re out of the military. What are you doing now? Aside from sitting around in libraries and coffee shops.” I smile so that he knows I am teasing.
“Writing. I’m an author. I’ve been doing it for years, even while I was still in the military.”
He’s an author. Makes sense why
