I listen to her tell me about everything she managed to get done today as I make her latte.
“I finally figured out what the other main character’s job is, and it’s made everything run so much more smoothly.”
“What did you decide?” I ask, sliding her coffee to her.
“She’s a coffee shop owner!” She throws her hands to the side like a ta-da moment, and I have to laugh.
“So, is there anything you aren’t using me as an inspiration for?” I smirk.
The apples of her cheeks turn that perfect shade of rose that has my cock tightening my jeans.
“U-umm,” she stutters.
“I’m kidding, Will. I think it works perfectly. A coffee shop owner hears everything, and if your CIA guy is using her as an informant, it makes perfect sense.”
“Yes! Exactly that!” Her excitement lights up the whole damn shop, and it’s infectious.
“Have a seat while I make you lunch, and I’ll come sit with you if it’s still dead in here. You can tell me all about the last three chapters.”
She makes her way to her usual table, and I have to physically tear myself away from watching her. She’s so full of life, so excited about every little thing, and it makes me equally captivated and jealous.
I keep an eye on her as I make her favorite panini, making sure to add a chocolate chip cookie to the plate as well before heading over to join her.
“Oh my God, you’re a lifesaver. I haven’t eaten all day; I was so engrossed in writing.” She takes a huge bite of her sandwich, and I sit back, covering my mouth with my hand to hide my smile. I don’t want to say anything to interrupt her. Instead, I let her fuel up so she can tell me all about her progress.
I take the time to really drink her in. Tight, black leggings cling to her shapely legs, ending with beat-up, leather sandals showing she wears them most days. Trailing my eyes up, I see a threadbare T-shirt hanging off of one shoulder, and just that tease of skin has my cock twitching. Her brown hair is plopped on top of her head, pieces falling out left and right, but it just furthers the dirty direction my mind has taken.
“Okay.” She rubs her hands on her leggings. “Thank you. I needed that.” I nod, wordlessly urging her to continue. “So, the three chapters went so fucking smooth. It felt fantastic to finally get productive words in. It’s all just basic setting stuff, but I’ve gotten the two characters to meet.”
“That’s really good, right?” I want to be able to help her more, but so much of this flies over my head. The topic, I know a shit-ton on, but writing? I’m clueless and feel extremely inadequate. I’ve read every single one of her books, and I know just how phenomenal her brain is, so I’m just trying to keep up.
“So good! Like, Charlie—that’s the CIA agent’s name—has gone to a new coffee shop around the area, where the ‘crimes’ are taking place, and Niya is the bakery owner. She hasn’t put up with his shit so far, so I love her already.” She beams.
“That sounds interesting.” And I mean it. It just sounds far from her usual set up, so I’m interested to seewhere this goes.
“So, I think I’m going to crash here and try to get some more words in, and then pick your brain when you close. That good with you?” She’s already pulling out her laptop, eager to get back to her progress.
The front door chimes, and I start to stand up. “I’ll let you get back to it, but I was thinking we could head to my apartment after I close up today.”That sounds fucking creepy.“I made a ton of food for dinner, so I figured you could eat with me,” I add awkwardly and cringe.God, that was almost worse.
“That sounds great, Oakley, thanks.” Her focus is far from me, and I’m just glad for the new customer, even if it is Jim Mathews.
He is the start and the end of the gossip train here. Mabel and Alice have nothing on him, contrary to what they think. He’s also Ledger’s soon-to-be father-in-law.
“Good afternoon, Oakley. How’s the day been?” he asks jovially.
“Not too bad. Just keeping the lovely people of Bluebell Falls caffeinated and fed. You want your usual?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, please. And can you throw on a double chocolate cookie? Don’t tell the missus—she’s trying to get me to eat healthier.”
“Absolutely.” I slide his medium drip coffee to him and move to grab the cookie, throwing it in a bag for him.
He picks both up, saluting me as he turns right back around, heading out to go bug someone else around town. I sigh in relief that he either chose to ignore that I was just sitting with Willow, or that he didn’t see it. Either way works for me because I don’t want to be the center of any attention.
The rest of the day is slow, leaving me ample time to watch Willow work, and daydream about fucking her. And by the time I’m ready to close up, she’s deep in the writing zone.
Locking up takes no time at all, and I sneak upstairs to pop the lasagna in the oven. I set a timer on my phone and then head back downstairs to check on Willow.
She’s in the exact spot I left her, except her hair looks a little more haphazard, and from what I’ve learned, that usually means she’s getting frustrated.
