I laughed sardonically because Morgan knew better. “Yeah, well, all I know are socialites and bikers.”
We stepped into the shop, Morgan in front of me, and then he suddenly stopped short as if in surprise. “Hey!” he exclaimed, sounding pleasantly surprised.
I craned my neck to see over his shoulder and couldn’t quite suppress the groan that resulted when I saw his sister. The first time I saw her, I must admit, she’d taken my breath away. The pale skinned, slightly freckled, cute-button-nosed elfin face, framed by soft, shiny-looking brown hair, asymmetrically curled cozily against her cheek. The cat eyes, like Morgan, and appearing just as curious and guarded as his. Everything came together to give the impression of ethereal delicacy.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
She was hard as nails and as hostile as a nest of murder hornets.
2
Nicolette
I eventually fell sleep at around four in the morning, which meant I slept in on Sunday. It resulted in that weird hangover that happens when you’ve slept both too much yet not enough.
Coffee was called for.
The Baby Shack was my favorite coffee shop in Brooklyn. They didn’t try to do trendy things, but were all about cozy comfort, and they always remembered my order to precise perfection, every time. Given that I didn’t want to talk much when I’d just woken up, we were a match made in coffee heaven.
“Hi, Nicolette! Good to see you. What can I get you today?” The perky barista, whose name I didn’t know, smiled at me. Thank heavens for name tags.
I summoned the closest facsimile of a smile that I could, hoping it would do. “Hi, Judy. Good to see you too. How is your day going?”
“Great!” She looked like she wanted to skip at my words, her face lit up like the sun. I could never work retail; being endlessly pleasant would kill me.
“I’m glad to hear that. May I have a white coffee with cream and two sugars?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Right away.”
I moved to the side to make room for the next client, tapping my fingers against the counter. Picking up the free newspaper, I skimmed through it as Judy went about making my coffee. Same old, same old; lots of shitty things happening. I pushed the paper aside and fished out my phone instead. When real life got too much, I could always rely on fanfiction to escape. Thumbing open the Daenerys and Khal Drogo fic I was in the middle of, I sighed with content and began to read. There is no such thing as too much of ‘the moon of my life’ and ‘my sun and stars.’
So absorbed was I in my Game of Thrones story that I didn’t hear Judy call my name until she rapped on the counter in front of me. “Coffee’s ready!” Her luminescent personality was still very much in effect and I wondered if she was battery-powered or all this was natural.
Somehow, I managed a dimmer version of her effervescence. “Thank you.”
“Would you like some pie to go with that? Perhaps a delicious piece of chocolate fudge cake?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. Get thee behind me, Satan!
Feeling my mouth water at the suggestion of all that creamy, sweet goodness melting on my tongue, all I could say was, “Er…”
A familiar voice called my name, loud and surprised, and I whirled around with a cocked eyebrow to see my brother standing behind me.
“Hey, you.” I said. “What are you doing here?”
He pointed his thumb behind him. “We were just getting some coffee after clocking in some overtime. You?”
I leaned to the side so I could see behind him. He was with the douche bag who ruled his life. Domenic Cliff - the devil Morgan had sold his soul to. I totally did not understand the hold this man had on my brother.
“Hey,” Domenic said to me and waved as if we were friends or something. He smiled, brilliant blue eyes fixed on me.
I nodded stiffly because I’m not rude. Morgan looked from me to Domenic with a tired sigh. “Why can’t you two just get along?”
I favored him with bitch face number five, before stepping around them. I still had no coffee in me, so I wasn’t in the mood to talk. “Bye, bro, I’ll see you later.”
Morgan reached out a hand to stop me. “Hey! Where are you going?”
“Home?” I gave him a wide-eyed look at his obtuseness. Where else would I be going dressed in sweatpants and an old t-shirt? Let’s not even talk about the crocs on my feet. Morgan kept his hand on mine.
“Stay awhile. Let’s visit. I haven’t seen you all week.”
“Yes, that’s because you’ve been working all hours.” I flicked an accusatory glance at his boss, which he totally ignored.
Typical.
“Yeah, so anyway, I’m free now and so are you.”
“Free?” I said, staring at Domenic. In my experience, your boss didn’t follow you around when you weren’t working.
“Yeah, free. Let’s sit together. Hang on while I get us some coffees. Y’all go and snag us some seating space.” He propelled me towards his boss and much as I tried to resist, he was much stronger than me.
Domenic smirked, turning around to lead me to one of the outside tables and presenting me with a view of his ass. Not that I was trying to look or anything, but it was right there, encased in form-fitting grey slacks.
He favored suits that lovingly adhered to the line of his sleek, tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, long-legged silhouette. Conceited bastard that he was, he knew how sexy he looked. It was one of the most annoying things about him. Always so well turned out and here I was in my crocs.
The wind ruffled through his longish black hair, making it even more artfully tousled than it had been before. God, why did everything about him have to be so perfect? We had our choice of sidewalk seating as most people chose to
