He grimaces, looking down at his attire. “I’m not thatoverdressed.”
“It’s the way you move, baby boy. Those hands,” I motion to his hands elegantly draped on the table, “you set them on the counter like you’re afraid they might get dirty—like you should be wearing white gloves.”
He inspects his hands the way a woman would who’d just gotten a manicure. “I might be graceful, but that doesn’t mean these hands haven’t done dirty things,” he drawls with a waggle of his brows.
To-fucking-ché.
I crack up, completely shocked by how bold this twink is.
He smiles and saunters over, holding out his hand once he reaches me. “I’m Felix.”
Felix?
Oh no.
Son of a bitch
It’s Felix Hargrove. The mayor’s son. I hate that man. Hate what he’s done to this town.
Naturally, his son looks like temptation wrapped in porcelain.
“Torren,” I reply as I shake his hand, unnerved by this revelation. “This is my friend Gabe.”
Felix turns to Gabe and holds out his hand. “Gabe. That’s a nice, normal name.” Then he turns back to me. “Torren sounds made up. Like the word torn, but with extra letters.”
“Says the guy who’s named after a cartoon cat.”
He leans a little closer and speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’d meow, but we only just met.”
I let out a sharp burst of laughter that surprises me. I never laugh like this. He beams with pride, his eyes crinkling as he smiles before donning a flirty expression and giving me a once-over.
Jesus, he’s drooling over me, and it’s too hard to resist. “Like what you see?” I ask.
“Maybe.” He sings, and the fire that was simmering within engulfs my entire body. He’s so freaking cute and playful. His eyes twinkle with mischief. There’s so much life in them.
“So, is the coffee any good?” He asks.
I pick up the cup and look at the black sludge. “It’s the worst coffee in the world.”
“Haha! Then why do you drink it?”
Why do I drink it?I could make my own, but what fun is that? “It’s a ritual. I get a black coffee and an old-fashioned donut here every day.”
Felix nods, pursing his lips while looking at me contemplatively. “That donut? You get that every day?”
“Sure do.”
“Wow, how adventurous. You’re a regular Indiana Jones.”
I bark out a surprised laugh. “You’re a brat, aren’t you?” I say right before I take a sip of terrible coffee.
“If I say yes, will you give me a spanking?” he replies while batting his lashes.
Terrible timing. I do a spit take, coffee landing on the counter, and guffaw. My head falls back, and I hold my belly as I cackle.
He’s laughing as well, the two of us cracking up at the mess I made.
“Did that one surprise you?” he asks as he grabs a wad of napkins and reaches across the counter to wipe my chin.
