It's just coffee, I tell myself.Calm the hell down, Leah.
Coffee with a hot older man. Coffee with a hot older man who will fuel my fantasies since there’s no one else in my life right now to do that. And as a single mother, that's not going to change anytime soon.
The café is more normal than I thought it would be, a very Brooklyn coffeehouse with eclectic art on the walls, plants, a lot of light, and mint-green subway tile on the wall behind the counter. The smell of freshly roasted coffee and shots of perfectly pulled espresso fill the air, along with the hum of chatter from hipsters in plaid and moms with their kids in expensive strollers.
I order a cappuccino and acroissant au chocolatfrom the famous Brooklyn bakery a few blocks over, and he orders a triple shot of espresso and nothing else.
We sit down at a table in a small shaded back patio with the dogs on either side of us, their tongues lolling. I slip Benji a non-chocolate-laced piece of croissant, and after glancing at Viktor, I do the same for his dog.
Despite his behavior this morning, Benjamin is being a perfect angel now. I don't know if he just feels bad for the trouble he caused, or if it has something to do with the man sitting across the table from me.
I scoop the foam from my cappuccino with a small spoon as I try very hard not to stare at Viktor. But it’s almost impossible. He also looks vaguely familiar. I’m the front-facing one in the office, and I interact with all the clients before sending them back to speak with their lawyers. Maybe Viktor and I talked briefly when he stopped in to see one of the partners at the firm.
So,” he starts, breaking me out of my thoughts.
He takes a small sip from his small espresso cup, which looks even smaller in his giant hands; hands I want to feel again, the touch of which I can still feel buzzing over my skin.
“I want to apologize again for this morning. I should have been more careful.” Those blue eyes meet mine, pull me in, and I can’t look away. “But in all honesty, I was looking at you and not paying attention to the dogs.”
That catches me off guard. “Me?”
I hadn't thought about how I looked as I darted out the door this morning, dropping Eliza off with her friends before darting to Suzie’s to walk Benji. The only makeup I have on is yesterday’s mascara, which I’d been too tired to take off.
Viktor must see the thoughts flashing through my head—I don’t exactly have a poker face—because I see amusement in his eyes as his full lips tip up into a small enigmatic smile that makes me swallow hard, like I’m in some cartoon.
“I've seen the dog before, but I haven't seen you around,” he says instead of answering my question, because it’s obvious he was admitting he had been looking at me.
“Oh, Benji is my best friend's dog. She's out of town for a couple of days, and I promised I'd walk him for her this morning because the dog sitter won't be here until later. Benji’s pretty young, and he always makes a mess if he misses his morning walk.”
“He needs his exercise,” Viktor agrees. “Well, it's fortuitous that we ran into each other.”
“I'm not sure I'd call it fortuitous,” I say, waving at the new pair of jeans. “Or running into each other.”
“Perhaps you wouldn't, but I would,” Viktor says, and there’s that smile again. I just don't know what to make of it.
“Well, anyway, thank you for the jeans. The other ones were old and worn, or I don't think Benji would have been able to rip them like that. Then again, he's almost two hundred pounds, so who knows?” I know I’m babbling, but this guy has me twisted into knots.
“I can believe it,” Viktor says. “They're gentle giants, but they're still giants that don't know their strength. I'm sure if he knew the issues he's caused, he would feel terrible.”
“Oh, sure,” I agree, though I'm not entirely convinced. Benji is sweet, as are most Great Danes, but he also has a mischievous side, and I'm sure part of him is laughing, just like Suzie will when she hears the story.
“Your dog is a Cane Corso, isn't it?” I ask.
“Yes, Athos is a Cane Corso—one of the best lines on the East Coast. But it’s not a well-known breed. How did you know?” Viktor asks.
I shrug. “I like dogs, especially big dogs. And Cane Corsos are eye-catching—those big, bronze eyes are incredible.”
“Yes, they are. And so are yours,” he remarks, and my heart beats a little faster.
“You said his name is Athos. Do you have a Porthos and an Aramis as well?” I ask after clearing my throat, changing the subject again.
Viktor laughs, and it's a sound I feel in my toes before it rockets straight back up between my thighs, a low rumble I’m suddenly desperate to hear again.
“Not yet,” he says. “He's a good boy, but Athos doesn't play well with others.”
“No, 'all for one and one for all’ for him?” I ask cheekily, and I'm rewarded with another of those incredible laughs.
“I am obscenely curious about the origin of Benji’s full name. Benjamin Maximus Jellybean James is a name I haven’t heard before.”
