“Thanks,” I stammer as I accept the cup.
His expression softens, eyes hooding as his stare flits across my face. “See? Damn, girl. Your smile is beautiful.”
I’m smiling? I touch my lips. Oh. Yeah, I guess I am.
Easton takes the other drinks, passing the second one to me so he can shoulder his gear bag when we reach the door. He holds it open for me and follows me outside.
“My roommate will be grateful for free coffee,” I say.
“No problem.” He glances in the direction of campus and sighs. “I need to get going.”
“Right. Okay, I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah? Good.” He licks his lower lip. “Wish me luck?”
I tilt my head. “Do you need it?”
“From you, gorgeous? Yes.” He steps into me, nearly brushing against me. It traps the warmth of the coffees I’m holding between us. “Say it, baby.”
My lashes flutter and my lips part on a shaky exhale. A gust of wind slices through the square and he rubs my arm, blocking me from the brunt of the cold air with his tall frame.
“Good luck,” I finally murmur.
The broad grin he gives me forms gradually until the corners of his eyes crinkle with pleasure. He holds a hand over his chest as if he’s captured my words and tucked them into his heart. Then he drops it, finding my waist. My gaze locks on his mouth while my pulse thrums.
It’s been a while for me, but I can tell—he’s a good kisser. One that can take you apart with a single, devastating kiss.
The old bell above the coffee shop breaks the moment. He shifts us so we aren’t blocking the sidewalk.
“I should go. Before this one gets cold.” I hold up Reagan’s drink. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He smirks.
My brow furrows. “What’s that look for?”
“I’m getting used to watching you walk away from me. It has its benefits, don’t get me wrong.” Easton scrapes his teeth over his lip as he checks me out. “But one of these days, you won’t walk away.”
A laugh catches in my throat. “Bye, Easton.”
“Bye, baby. Hate to see you leave—” He gives a low, rumbling hum when I turn around and start walking. “—love to watch you go.”
My face is on fire and his enticing tone causes an ache between my thighs that lasts long after I leave Easton behind in the square.
SIX
MAYA
Workingat Merrywood Farms is a highlight of my week. My advisor is friends with the owner, and recommended me when a position opened up during my summer semester between freshman and sophomore year. I have a few rotating shifts during the week and come in on the weekends for extra help.
The farm is run by a therapist offering a variety of activities and services with their mostly rescued animal residents. Some of it is geared toward mental health well-being, but they also provide animal-assisted therapies that I get to observe for my degree. I do a bit of everything for the farm, often working with the horses.
This afternoon, it’s a goat yoga session with my new co-worker that started here last month. Hana Yoo is a freshman performing arts major and way better at leading yoga classes with her lithe dancer build than I am. I love hanging out with the goats, though. Like our guests, I spend sessions cuddling the cute little kids that run around freely during the class rather than bending myself into a pretzel the way Hana excels at.
“And…deep breath out,” Hana says serenely from her mat at the front of the pavilion. “Namaste. Great job, everyone. That’s it for today’s session. We hope you had fun!”
Right on cue, one of the goats yells as it headbutts her, making the group break out in laughter. We wrangle the goats and end the class with some group photos. Once the book club that arranged the session files out, we work together to return the goats to their paddock before finishing our shift for the day.
“Great work, ladies. Thank you,” our boss says when we pass her walking through the grounds. “See you tomorrow!”
