Keeping Katie: Chapter 4
Holy espresso beans.
I think I orgasmed a little when he touched me.
This man is making me forget what words are. Do I even remember what my name is right now? How can one person be so gorgeous, mysterious, terrifying, and kind-looking all at the same time? I’m not sure how, but Grady pulls it off.
When he first came in, and I had to keep looking higher and higher just to meet his eyes, I was breathless. He’s got to be at least six-four. And dressed in a black suit that definitely isn’t off the rack. I almost wondered if he was a model. Then he held out his tattooed fingers, and I was surprised. He must be covered in them.
Then, after stumbling over my words, I burned myself with the stupid steamer that I’ve been meaning to have fixed for months. Now I’m thoroughly embarrassed and wish the ground would swallow me up whole. My skin still tingles from the pain, but I don’t want him to know that because he seems a bit pissed off over it happening. It was pretty hot the way he got all over-the-top protective.
Chloe keeps catching my eye, tilting her head toward Grady, her mouth tipped into a half-smirk. He won’t stop staring at me like I’m the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. It’s unnerving. I look like a train wreck, and I might even smell of BO right now, so I don’t know what he finds so interesting. Plus, I’m me, and he’s him. We are definitely not on the same level. Literally and figuratively.
Yet despite all that, my vagina loves every second of the attention. My breasts, too. They’re aching, desperate for just a whisper of a touch from him. A girl can dream.
It’s obvious he’s rich. Not to mention hot. And charming. The way he took control when I hurt myself was swoon-worthy. He was gentle but stern at the same time. I’m not used to that kind of treatment. I’m used to being the one taking care of others. I’ve spent the better part of my life doing so.
Needing to get away from Grady’s intensity, I help Chloe finish the drinks, topping them with whipped cream. After I put the lid on Grady’s cup, I hold my breath and hold it out for him.
“It’s a light roast pour-over with steamed milk, a splash of Irish cream, and whipped cream. It’s my favorite.” As I speak, he studies me, bringing the cup up to his nose to sniff it.
“It’s your favorite?” he asks before he takes a drink.
He has a slight accent when he talks, which only adds to his appeal. It’s so light that I can’t tell where it might originate from, though.
I nod as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Who knew an act so simple could ignite my body like wildfire? Thank goodness I wore a bra with a little padding today because otherwise, he’d get a nice view of my budded nipples.
“Aye,” he says. “Just became my favorite, too. Thanks, lass. See you tomorrow.”
Oh my God. It’s an Irish accent. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. I can hardly wait to get home so I can load my e-reader with a bunch of Irish mafia books because he totally gives off that vibe. Although he’s so tall and fit he could be a sports player. Ohhh, maybe he’s a hockey player. That would be hot. Is Irish hockey a thing?
Then he puts a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and strides toward the door, leaving me, Cali, and Chloe staring at his backside. Damn, the man sure fills out a suit. His trousers are molded perfectly to his ass, giving me the best exit view. Definitely a hockey player.
“What just happened?” I murmur.
Chloe nudges me and wraps her arm around my waist. “I think he just fell in love. Text me later. Good luck with the real estate agent.”
She leans in and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before she grabs their beverages, and they follow Grady outside.
I blink several times as her words finally start to register. Did she just say…? No. I misheard her. I must have. There’s no way she said what I think she did. Obviously, I’m so tired that I’m delusional. Delusional and unexpectedly horny.
I don’t have a ton of experience with men. I’m certainly not a virgin, but my body has never had such a reaction to anyone before. If only a man like him could ever love a woman like me. He probably has supermodels throwing themselves at him on a regular basis. Not that I blame them. I don’t know how Chloe and Cali act so nonchalantly around him. I could barely breathe the entire time he was here.
What would it be like to be with a man like that? I bet he knows what to do to make a woman feel good.
As far-fetched as it may be that Grady would ever be interested in me, I’m sure going to enjoy fantasizing about him tonight when I’m tucked in. Bedtime can’t come soon enough.
My stomach twists. I’m going to be sick if I don’t calm down. How am I supposed to do that, though? The improvements the realtor suggested will cost me over twenty thousand dollars. Do I look like I’m rolling in money? My savings account is about as sad as Eeyore on a rainy day, and that’s pretty pitiful. I’m barely staying above water. Thankfully, my parents’ health insurance company has been waiting for their payment until I sell the house. They’re losing patience, though, and have started making threats that I can’t even think about. I cannot and will not lose the shop. I just hope the money from the sale will cover everything.
“I’ll have to think about this. Maybe I can manage a few of these.” I glance at the paper Calvin gave me. “I could paint the walls myself. That’s easy enough. And I could fix the gate, probably.”
Calvin smiles and leans against the kitchen island, his gaze raking down my body and back up again. “It’s up to you, doll. Just remember that the selling price will be based on the improvements you make. If buyers see a lot of stuff to do, they’ll have leverage to offer less. I’m only trying to help you out.”
Right. So, either way, I’m screwed. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for the stupid life insurance company that dropped my mom’s coverage a few months before she died. The worst part is, I didn’t know until after she was gone, and I’d reached out for the policy payout. Now, I’m left with no choice but to sell their house to pay off their medical debts.
After searching for realtors, I somehow ended up with Calvin. And honestly, I’m not a fan of him. I’ve never sold or bought a house, though, so I don’t know if this is normal or not. I have a feeling he calls everyone by some kind of nickname, but it feels slimy every time he calls me doll. Slimy, just like his overly gelled hair. Barf.
Once he leaves, after giving me an awkward half-hug that caught me off guard, I get to work and load a few boxes into my car. I’d like to say this house means something to me, but I’ve spent more time at Twisted Bean and at the hospital since I was a kid. The coffee shop is more my home than this house. I think my parents felt that way, too. We made so many memories there. Ones I’ll cherish forever.
It’s way past sunset by the time I lock the front door, yawning as I do. As I drive away, I glance over my shoulder. There’s a black Escalade parked along the curb a few houses down. It’s similar to the one Chloe came to the shop in. The one she rode in with Grady. I squint harder to see if I recognize it. Wow. I shake my head and laugh out loud. I must really be losing it. As if he would follow me to my parents’ house after meeting me one time. Good lord. I’ve been reading way too many stalker romances.
Will he be at dinner if I go? He made it seem like he would be there. I’m not sure if that makes it better. I was barely functional around him today. He’s probably used to that. I’m sure women lose their ability to talk around him all the time.
My shoulders slump. I can’t go to dinner tomorrow as much as I want to. The list I have is so long, I’ll be busy for days. Hopefully, Chloe will take a raincheck. Once again, my responsibilities outweigh a chance at fun.
By the time I get home, my mind is made up, even though I wish I could change it. I send Chloe a text, letting her know I can’t make it to dinner because of all the things I need to do. A girls’ night sounds fun and exactly what I need, but the house is the priority.
Chloe: Let’s plan for this weekend, then? You’ve got to eat sometime.
I smile, my heart feeling a bit lighter.
Katie: Yes, I suppose you’re right. This weekend works.
That gives me four days to work on the house. I’m sure I can get a ton accomplished by then.
Birds chirp happily as I unlock the front door to the shop. Why are they so glad to be awake this early? It’s pure torture, if you ask me. Especially since I only got a few hours of sleep last night. Getting home late, thoughts about everything I need to do to my parents’ house, then visions of the hot man who starred in all my fantasies last night—I’m a walking zombie today. Still, the orgasms were worth it.
Once inside, I lock the door behind me and get to work brewing the carafes of drip, starting up the espresso machine, and making sure we have enough cups and lids set out for the day.
Even though I hate waking up so early, I love this time of the morning. The world is still quiet while the sun slowly climbs out of its own bed and brightens the world. The windows allow me to watch as things come to life. It’s the most Zen part of my day because my thoughts are still sleeping until I’ve had my first hit of coffee.
The bookstore owner next door knocks on one of the front windows as she passes by. I wave at her and smile. It’s our usual morning greeting to each other. A small thing that gives me a sense of normalcy. I can’t remember the last time my life felt that way.
Right at five o’clock, I turn on the neon open sign and unlock the door. My morning shift employee won’t be here until six since the rush doesn’t typically start until after then anyway. I get the first hour to slowly get into my groove with a few regular customers who come in on their way to work.
Before I make it back behind the counter, the door chime rings. I pause mid-step, caught off guard by the immediate customer. Usually, I’m able to get my own coffee made before I have to make someone else’s. Guess I’ll have to wait a little longer this morning. I turn to greet whoever it is but immediately freeze.
Swallowing, I stare at Grady in stunned silence. It takes a second for me to get my shit together and force a tight smile. A flush starts at my cheeks and works its way down my entire body, right to my clit. I might be a zombie this morning, but my pussy is wide awake and purring like a cat in heat. My gaze wanders behind him, waiting for Chloe to appear, but she doesn’t. It’s only him. “Um, good morning. Welcome to Twisted Bean.”
Even at this hour, he’s dressed in a crisp black suit; only this time, he has on a long jacket to match, black leather gloves, and a dark gray scarf. He looks edible. And way more awake than me.
Crap.
Did I put on concealer this morning? Nope. I sure didn’t. At least I brushed my hair and put on deodorant.
“Good morning, lass,” Grady says with a half-smirk. “Cold out there. Hope you were bundled up when you came in.”
I shudder, my skin prickling. That’s sweet of him to care. Although I’m certainly not going to tell him I was not, in fact, bundled up in more than a jean jacket because I was in such a hurry.
What is he doing here? It’s barely daylight out.
“Did you lose something yesterday?” I ask, looking around the shop as if something is going to jump out at me.
“No, lass. Think I found something, though.”
My head snaps up, and I meet his gaze. His eyes are practically glowing. A mix of green, gold, and blue. Penetrating to the point I almost feel naked. Exposed. Can he see all my insecurities? My flaws?
“Was hoping I could get another one of those coffees you made me,” he adds.
Oh, right. Duh. That’s why he’s here. He wants coffee. Silly me.
I stride around the counter and grab a cup, nodding. “Of course. Coming right up.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he stares, watching me like a hawk as I make his beverage. This time, I keep my eyes on the task so I don’t end up embarrassing myself again. It’s not until I put a lid on the drink that he finally looks away.
“Here you go.”
“Can I get a pastry too? Pick one you like.”
My tummy does a little flutter. We stare at each other for a second. A shudder runs through me. I’m sure my cheeks would be bright pink if I looked in the mirror right now. Who needs a coat when he’s around? Not me.
I reach into the glass case and pull out an apple strudel croissant. “Do you want it for here or to go?”
Why did I ask that? Obviously, he’s not going to stay. He’s not the kind of guy to spend his time in a coffee shop. Especially at five in the morning.
“For here.” His voice is deep and velvety. A mix of harsh and smooth. There’s a hint of sternness when he speaks that makes me want to immediately obey his every command.
“Okay. I’ll heat it and bring it out to you,” I offer.
He nods and drops a hundred-dollar bill on the counter near the cash register, then turns and sits at the table closest to me. Close enough that his rich, amber scent wafts through the air.
Last night, I fought the urge to text Chloe some more and ask her about Grady. Who he is. What he does. What kind of person he is. Based on how he carries himself, he’s definitely in a position of power. Men don’t walk around with his level of confidence unless they have a reason to. And while he seems kind enough, the tattoos on his hands, all the way down to his fingertips, cause a yellow caution flag to pop up in my mind. If this were one of the books I like to read, I’d say he’s in the mafia, but this isn’t a book. It’s real life, and stuff like that isn’t real.
As I pass the register to take him the pastry, I swipe the money he left on the counter and set it down with the plate. “I’m not sure where you normally drink coffee, but at Twisted Bean, it doesn’t cost a hundred dollars.”
The corner of his mouth twitches as he looks me up at down. “Got a little sass in there. I like it. Take a bite.”
His eyes lower to the pastry and then back to me as my mouth goes slack. “Oh, um, no, that’s yours. And since you left so much money yesterday, this one and the next twenty are on the house.”
“Did you eat breakfast?”
“What?”
He sits back in the chair, his hands folded between his thighs as he looks at me expectantly. Definitely a man in a position of power. Is it pathetic that I have an urge to kneel before him? I’ve never had this feeling before, but something about him does it to me. I’m sure it happens to most women he comes across.
“I asked if you ate breakfast.”
Thankfully, the door chime interrupts us because I have a feeling Grady wouldn’t approve of me not having eaten breakfast already. There was an underlying disappointment in his tone. Even I caught onto it, and I’m not always the most observant.
Spinning on my heel, I smile at my first regular of the day and go to make his coffee.
“Morning, Mark. Same thing?”
Mark nods and leans against the counter. He’s not much of a morning person, so he doesn’t expect me to do much talking, which is nice. While I work, though, I feel Grady’s gaze on me. I don’t think I’ve ever been watched so closely.
I cash out Mark, and as he leaves, another customer enters. That’s how it goes for the next while, so I stay busy and away from Grady. The entire time, he tracks my movements. He also glares at every male customer I help, no matter how old they are. It sends a naughty thrill up my spine. Is he jealous? That’s almost laughable.
Erin comes bouncing in at six and gets right to work. She’s a good employee and loves her job, so it’s a win-win. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention, and when I glance that way, Grady taps the table with the tip of his index finger and then signals for me to come over.
Heat rushes right down to my pussy. Why does him calling me over turn me on? And why do I want to rush right over to him?
As I approach his table, he pushes the chair next to him out a few inches. Tilting my head, I smile, then lower myself to sit, partially wishing I hadn’t. His scent is potent. I’m drawn to him. I want to scoot closer. Climb onto his powerful thighs and snuggle right into his chest.
What the hell is wrong with me? Oh my God. Where are these thoughts coming from? When did I become such a needy hussy?
“Eat,” he commands softly, motioning to the untouched pastry.
Scrunching my face, I shake my head. “That’s yours.”
“I want you to eat it. You need a proper breakfast.” He picks up the fork and cuts a piece off, then stabs it. When he raises it to my mouth to feed me, I stop breathing. I’ve surely died and gone to another dimension.
“How do you know I didn’t already have breakfast?”
When he narrows his gaze and raises an eyebrow, I swallow heavily. Can he see right through me?
“Little one,” he says quietly, though there’s no missing the threat in his voice.
The last thing I want to do is disappoint him, but letting him feed me is too much, especially in the middle of my coffee shop. I take the fork from him, careful not to touch him in the process. He doesn’t look happy but releases it and sits back again.
“Would you like another coffee?” I ask once I swallow.
“No,” he answers simply. “You’re coming to dinner tonight.”
He says it as a statement, like the decision is already made. I shake my head and cut off another piece of pastry when he points to it.
“No. I can’t. I talked to Chloe. We’ve planned for another night later this week.”
His jaw flexes, and he gestures to the plate again. I roll my eyes but take another bite, surprised by how hungry I am. Normally, I don’t eat in the morning. Coffee is my go-to.
“That displeases me. Did you find out what improvements need to be done to your parents’ house?”
I drop the fork with a clatter and start coughing. “That displeases you? What does that even mean?”
Who says ‘displeases’?
“Exactly what it sounds like. I’m unhappy that you’re not coming to dinner. You didn’t answer my question.”
What question? I can’t keep track of anything that’s happening right now. Chloe’s words suddenly replay in my mind.
I think he just fell in love.
There’s no freaking way Grady is at all interested in me. He’s him, and I’m me. We exist on different planets. Also, we just met yesterday.
I don’t even know his last name.
“It’s O’Brien.”
“Huh?” My head is spinning.
The corners of his mouth tip up into a breathtaking smile. “You said you didn’t know my last name. It’s O’Brien.”
Shit. Now, I’m talking out loud, and I didn’t even realize it. I need to get away from him before I say something dumb.
“Nothing you say is dumb. You can say whatever you want to me. Ask whatever you want.”
Holy espresso. I’m making the biggest fool of myself. I could blame it on lack of sleep, but admitting that he was part of the reason I didn’t sleep is not on my list of things I want to do.
“I need to get back to work,” I blurt as I jump up from the chair and rush behind the counter without a glance back.
I force myself not to look at him as I help Erin with the morning crowd. The next time I glance at the table, he’s gone. I drop my shoulders as disappointment floods me.
When I go to clean the plate that still has the mostly uneaten pastry on it, I find the hundred-dollar bill I tried to give back to him and a note scribbled on the back of a business card with his name and number on it.
Be a good girl and eat it.
Plate in hand, I scurry back to my small office and pull out my phone to text Chloe.
Katie: I think I’m in big, big trouble.
Then I finish the delicious, mouthwatering pastry, thinking about what a good girl I’m being the entire time.
I have paint specks on my hands and arms, even though I scrubbed until my skin was raw in the shower this morning. It’s probably pointless since I’ll be doing the same thing tonight and will have a fresh set of spatters to wash off.
With a sigh, I turn on the open sign and unlock the door. When the door chimes before I make it behind the counter again, I stop mid-step. It can’t be him. There’s no way. It’s only a coincidence that someone is here again within seconds of me opening.
“Morning, lass. You should always check to see who enters when you hear the door. Could be someone dangerous.”
Oh, it’s someone dangerous, all right.
When I turn, my breath hitches. His light brown hair is perfectly styled, but instead of being overly gelled, it looks touch-ably tousled. He has a different coat and scarf on, but from what I can tell, the suit is the same. Does he have a row of them in his closet? From its crispness, I doubt it’s the same one he wore yesterday.
“Good morning,” I say, barely above a whisper.
His smirk turns into a grin. “Cold out there. Colder than normal for this time of year. Make sure you wear a thick jacket whenever you go outside.”
Why does that feel like a threat? Does he know I’ve only been wearing my favorite jean jacket?
“Um, do you want coffee?” I ask, my voice strangled.
“Aye. Same kind. And a pastry. You pick it.”
I glance up at him, wanting to figure him out. I don’t understand why he’s here again. Twisted Bean is near and dear to my heart but it’s not as if it’s some magical place where a man like Grady O’Brien would want to hang out on the regular.
When I slide his cup across the counter, he sets down a hundred-dollar bill and returns to the same table as yesterday. My lips twitch as I go about warming his pastry. Surely, I’m not imagining this tension between us. I might not be as experienced as some women, but I can feel the pull between us. It’s like a dance, but I don’t know the steps.
“This is a cranberry pecan scone.” After I set the plate in front of him, along with his money, I slowly start to back away.
“Did you make it, lass?”
“Yes. I make all the pastries. I have a full kitchen in the back.”
He nods and slowly slides his gaze over me, his tongue dipping out to wet his lips. It doesn’t feel slimy like when Calvin does it. Instead, it feels like a gentle caress over my skin everywhere Grady looks.
“You were painting last night?”
I suck in a breath. How does he know that? Is that his black Escalade I keep seeing?
“You have paint on your hands,” he adds.
Oh, duh. God, I’m losing it.
“Uh, yeah. I’m painting my parents’ house so I can sell it.”
He flexes his jaw and nods. “Busy girl. When do you find time to sleep?”
Warning flags fly high in my mind. This feels like a trap. But I’m not sure how or why.
“I don’t need very much sleep,” I reply, waving my hand dismissively.
The door chimes, and I’m once again pulled away from him, distracted by an ongoing string of customers. For the next hour, every time I glance up, his eyes are locked on me, tracking my every move. Then, he rises, and it’s my turn to watch as he strides out of the shop, giving me an earth-shattering half-smile as he passes the counter. As soon as the door closes behind him, my heart sinks. I shouldn’t miss a man I don’t even know.
When I go to clean off his table, there’s another of his business cards under the plate, along with the money.
Go to bed by nine at the latest and eat the scone.
And somehow, I find myself in my office, eating the scone while replaying our interaction in my mind. I’m also in bed by eight-thirty.
This time, when the door chimes right after I turn on the open sign, a smile touches my lips. I don’t have to turn around to know it’s Grady. It’s almost as if the air in the shop warms, followed by that deep amber scent of his.
“Morning, lass.”
“Morning,” I answer as I continue to make my way around the counter. “What kind of coffee?”
“Same as yesterday. Pick a pastry, too.”
I stop to look at him, trying to ignore the way my breathing halts every time I do. “You don’t eat the pastries.”
His eyes sparkle, the gold ring around his irises practically glowing in the morning light. “No, but I like knowing you’ve eaten something because I have a feeling you forgot to have breakfast.”
Well, he really didn’t need to call me out like that. “I don’t forget,” I answer slowly. “I just…get busy with other things.”
“Uh-huh. Too busy if you ask me.”
I lift my chin in defiance. “Good thing I didn’t ask.”
He raises an eyebrow, and I gulp, suddenly unsure about being so sassy. Grady’s been nothing but kind to me, but he’s still a bit…scary.
“I’ll bring your pastry,” I say hurriedly with a sweeter-than-usual smile as I slide his coffee to him.
To my relief, he nods and goes to his usual seat.
“Did you go to bed at a reasonable hour last night?”
The plate clatters to the table. Heat rushes right down to my core. Why am I turned on? And why does part of me want to say no just to see how he responds? The good girl side of me wants to make him proud even more, though.
“Yes. I went to sleep around eight-thirty. It was weird. I’m usually up until after midnight.”