It sat low to the ground and reminded me of something a drug dealer would drive. I half expected to hear pounding bass and see puddle lighting on the underside.
It finally parked. Beside me.
My mouth went suddenly dry and my heart sped up. I absently smoothed my hair again and watched the man driving the druggie deluxe get out of the car.
“Damn,” I murmured to myself.
Close-cut blond hair. Strong, chiseled jaw. Broad shoulders. And tall. So tall I’d have to crane my neck to look at him.
He was not the sort of man you expected to drive a lowrider. I instantly respected that about him.
I licked my lips and felt the fluttering in my gut.
There it was again.
Anticipation.
I checked the time on my phone. I had to be at work in twenty-five minutes. That meant I had exactly fifteen minutes to convince Mr. Strong Jaw in the drug dealer car to buy me a coffee and become completely enchanted with my sweet smile and perfectly smooth hair.
I went inside the tiny coffee shop and got in line.
Right behind him.
He was on his phone. He spoke low. Not rudely loud like a lot of people. He didn’t want the entire world to hear his conversation. I was glad to see he wasn’t a raging douchebag.
And he had a nice ass.
Not overly round. Firm. Like he worked out.
There were certain things that were important when contemplating future flirtations with a potential romantic interest. Nice ass and an appropriate phone voice were important.
I had been noticing him for weeks, since he walked in one day during my coffee and bagel.
He filled the space. His presence took over.
He gave me something else to fixate on.
Now here I was. Here he was.
Herewewere.
It was now or never.
I reached into my purse and pulled out my wallet. I was fumbling. My fingers didn’t seem to be working properly. I yanked on my wallet in an exaggerated gesture that ended with the contents spilling onto the floor. Change rolled across the tiles.
“Damn it!” I hissed, ducking my head as I knelt down on the floor to start the task of gathering my stuff.
I wasn’t embarrassed. I wasnervous.
“Here, let me help you.” He crouched down beside me and started picking up my loose change and a pile of loose papers, including a ticket stub.
“The Dandy Warhols. Nice. I saw them live a few years ago.” He handed it back to me, his full-toothed smile on prominent display. He was good-looking. That was an easy thing to say. But there was something else about him that intrigued me. That had me crouched on the floor, staring up at him like an idiot.
I took the ticket stub and stuffed it back in my purse.
“Yeah, they’re one of my favorites.” I smiled. He smiled.
His brown eyes widened ever so slightly. His cheeks flushed. Just a little. He swallowed. Maybe his mouth was as dry as mine.
