All that force she was using to lean into the door propels her backward, and she falls arse-first toward the concrete.
“Oh shit!” she cries.
I catch her under the arms, but it jostles the cup holder in her hands, spilling coffee all over her.
“Fuck you, Lady Luck,” she mumbles, and I can’t stop my escaping chuckle.
My laughter causes her to look up at me. “You!”
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” I wink at her as I set her on her feet.
Her entire face turns a shade of red I’ve only seen on one of our firetrucks, and I can’t help but wonder if I could turn her entire body that color either with my words or my hands.
“I’m soaking wet,” she moans.
I’d like to see you soaking wet for me.
Her eyes shoot up to mine as her mouth falls open. “What?”
Oh shit, did I say that out loud?
“Let me help you clean up.” That’s right, just move right past it. Don’t make it any more awkward than it needs to be.
“No, it’s fine. I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself, I always do,” she huffs as she drops her purse, all the contents spilling out. “Fuck.”
“Here, lemme help.” I bend down and start scooping things into her purse, but she snatches it from me, grabs the empty cups, and stands. “Let me at least replace your coffees.”
“It’s fine. I should cut back anyway.”
“Surely those weren’t all for you?”
Ire flashes in her eyes. “What if they were? I’m an overworked teacher and a single mom to two little boys. I mainline coffee like it’s my job.”
I lift my hands in surrender as I flash her my killer smile. “That’s fair.”
“No. You don’t get to be charming too,” she blurts, and then her eyes go big, like she can’t believe she just said that.
“So let me see if I’m understanding. You think I’m hot, you’re mad for my accent, and find me charming, eh?” I say, laying the Irish lilt on extra thick.
“I didn’t say you were hot,” she scoffs.
“No, you just admitted you fancy my calendar spread.” I’mnot sure why I’m still teasing her, but the thrill of it excites me more than anything has in quite a while.
She opens her mouth to respond, and I wait desperately for her to speak, hoping she’ll prick me with her words. “It doesn’t matter; you clearly can’t follow through with your promises. I need to go,” she says. Disappointment pokes me.
“Your coffee?” I call out, but she’s already walking away quickly, still clutching the empty cups and holder as her round, perfect arse sways behind her. I can’t follow through with my promises? What is she on about? Fuck, how did I screw this up already?
I stand there like a fool watching her for several minutes. What is it about this woman that draws me in so much? Something rustles at my feet. I bend down to pick up a folded piece of paper on the ground and read it.
“Holy feckin’ Christ,” I say in a whisper. She would die if she knew she dropped this, and I look up the street, but she’s already disappeared.
I need to think carefully about how I play this. If I don’t handle it just right, I might scare her away—but if I can pull this off, I can show her how committed I am to following through, and we may just have the best time of our lives.
Pocketing the paper, I head into the coffee shop so I can complete my initial task. But my mind is filled with dirty thoughts as I think about all the things I want to do to the naughty single mom.
CHAPTER 7
LUCY
