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CHAPTER 1 – THE MORNING RUSH
Tara
Mornings are busy, but I love the quiet when I get to the cafe where I work. I punch in just after 5:30 a.m., my blonde hair pulled into a neat bun, and then hook an apron over my head. A name tag hangs from the calico fabric, and by the time I open the doors, the Daisy Cafe is already humming: indie-folk on the speakers, steamed milk puffing, grinders growling, and the soothing glow of the iron pendant laps making everyone’s morning a bit brighter.
I could do this job blindfolded, and sometimes I think I might as well, considering how little of my actual brain is required to dose espresso and microfoam milk. I’m all muscle memory after two years on the job: flick the portafilter, polish the pitcher, pour a leaf or heart or (when I’m feeling extra) a particularly pretty fern design that I’ve just mastered. However, my signature is the three-layer tulip—no one else can pull it off without botching the symmetry. It’s my tiny, sweet legacy.
My phone buzzes, face up on the stainless, lit with a blue bubble: it’s Eliza, my best friend. She’s already been awake for hours because my buddy has always been an early bird, but she always has time for my moral crises. Which is good, because today’s is extra.
Her: “Hey girl, saw you pinged. What’s up?”
Me: “Confession. It happened again. I’m a lost cause.”
Her: “Hunter??”
Me: “Yes. My favorite sex dream subject appeared again. OMG, he’s going to break me.”
I can almost hear Eliza giggling.
Her: “You’re so bad. It’s not that awful though. I mean, they can’t put you in jail for dreaming about a man. Even if he is your stepbrother.”
I smile and write back.
“I’ll tell you all about it later and it is that bad because, girlfriend, my dream man is better than any real man. But listen, I have to go because the café’s busy today. I’ll call you when I get off shift.”
Then, I tuck the phone under the register, fingers flying as I work on a six-ticket drink order. Muscle memory takes over; my mind is free to return, in all its shameful, vivid detail, to last night’s epic mistake.
Of course, the dream was X-rated. Of course, it was totally steamy, with the big body of my older stepbrother playing a starring role. But the thing is that the dream wasn’t totally pulled out of the blue because actually, I was intimate with Hunteronce before. Only once, and we didn’t go all the way, but it was enough to start me down this treacherous, forbidden path.
It happened about a year ago at a party for Hunter’s company, which I had zero business attending except that Mom begged me to “be supportive.” I guess his company, Justify AI, had launched some new product that was going to change the world, and they threw a big shindig to celebrate. All I knew is that for me, it meant hours in too-tight heels, sipping flat chardonnay, listening to men in fleece vests debate “venture capital synergy.” I lasted until dessert, then ducked out for air—only to find Hunter already outside, alone, back against the brick wall, tie loose and hair haloed in vapor from his breath.
He called my name low, so it came out like a dare. “Tara.”
I spun around, the darkness cloaking his big body. Still, I could make out broad shoulders clad in a perfectly-cut suit, as well as a strong jawline and the dangerous gleam of those blue eyes.
“Hey Hunter,” I stammered. “I thought you’d be inside. This is your party, after all. Aren’t there a ton of people you have to chat up?”
He shrugged, stubbing his cigarette.
“Yeah, but a man gets tired of pressing the flesh. Half those people are barracudas just waiting for me to make a mistake. At the first opportunity, they’ll tear the skin from my bones while I’m still alive.”
I choke a little at the vicious metaphor.
“Oh, I see,” I say in a soft voice. “I had no idea.”
Hunter doesn’t say anything, but I can feel those blue eyes scanning me in the darkness, taking everything in. OMG, do Ilook okay? I’d recently gone through some big changes, and put on twenty pounds. The thing is that when you’re young, the weight goes on in all the right places. Now, I had big Double D breasts highlighted by the cocktail dress, as well as a narrow waist, wide hips, and thick thighs. The stiletto heels I was wearing were new too, and suddenly, I felt really unsteady. Far too unsteady, actually, and without knowing how, I stumbled and fell over.
Straight into Hunter’s arms.
“Oof!” I cried out.
“Don’t worry. I got you, baby girl,” he rasped, pulling me against that hard form. I flushed, tipping my head back to look at him, taking in the raw masculinity of his features.
“Thanks for saving me, Hunter. I don’t know what caused that. I guess I don’t wear heels very often and it must have been a pebble?—”
But I barely had time to speak before he caught my wrist and pulled me further into the darkness, casting us in shadow. In seconds, his mouth was on mine, hungry and rough, tasting of whiskey and peppermint. My knees actually buckled. His hand cupped the back of my head, fingers tangling in my blonde tresses as his lips worshiped mine. I could have run, but I didn’t. It felt good, and I pressed into him, let his thigh wedge between mine, and kissed him back like my life depended on it.
