Page 2 of Chosen By the BRATVA Grump

Stop it.

I open my mouth to reply, but instead of politely saying “very well, thank you,” which is my intention, I inhale a crumb of cake. The coughing fit that takes over me wracks my whole body. I can feel my eyes bulge and my face go puce.

Yes. Puce.

I’m coughing and hacking away as he raises a brow, and I try to wave away his offer of help which I managed to hear between gasping coughs. Delilah slides a glass of cold water in front of me, but I can’t stop coughing for long enough to swallow anything. Only that doesn’t stop me from trying.

Water and cake sputter from my mouth and dribble down my chin, and I think for a second that maybe this is how I’m going to die. A twenty-four-year-old who’s most exciting thing in life is that she painted the front of her gallery in Absolutely Fine green.

Only I can’t die the day before my opening… imagine the headlines?!

A huge thwack has my entire body lurching forwards, boobs bumping into the counter. I’m just trying to gather myself when another one crashes down between my shoulder blades, this one dislodging the errant cake crumb, which lands on the counter next to my plate.

Delilah hands me some napkins, looking entirely unworried.

“That’s why people don’t rush to eat my cakes,” she says. “Are you okay?”

No.

“Yes, of course, I’m fine, thank you.” I rush the words out whilst still trying to get myself together.

Natan reappears beside me, crouching to look at my face, which I’m hoping is no longer covered in water, spit, cake, and... Oh God, what if there was snot?

“You’re still very red,” he says, pushing some of my fringe away from my face and forcing me to ignore the way his rough fingers feel against my skin.

Jesus.

I slow my breathing and don’t tell him it’s embarrassment.

He frowns. “Maybe we should take you to the doctor and get you checked out.”

“No!” I all but screech, then finally manage to swallow a mouthful of water. “See, fine.” I smile. “All fine and nothing to worry about.” Hiccup.

He keeps those ridiculously pale gray eyes on me for a second longer as I grab my phone and hover it over the card reader, only for Delilah to wave me off with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s on me, since it nearly killed you and all,” she says, completely deadpan. One of the cats, Cookie, strolls over to rub against my ankle as I slide from the stool.

“Haha,” I squeak. “Yes, well, I’ll see you tomorrow morning then.”

I all but run from the cafe, completely ignoring the fact that Natan is still watching me far too closely, and Jasper pulls the door open just in time for me not to crash through it.

What is wrong with me?

Natan

Kimmie is choking two feet from my elbow, and nobody in this café appears to consider it an emergency.

Delilah pushes a glass of water at her, which is the worst possible thing to do to someone with a foreign body in their airway, and Kimmie tries to drink it, because she has spent every second I have ever observed her attempting three things at once. The water comes straight back out. Her eyes are streaming. The sound she’s making has changed pitch, gone thinner and higher, and that’s the part I don’t like.

I put my palm flat between her shoulder blades, then I hit her.

She lurches into the counter and I hit her again, harder, angled up. Something small and brown shoots out of her and lands beside her plate like a verdict.

She gulps down a breath as Delilah makes a joke about her cakes and hands over some napkins.

I crouch. Kimmie’s face is scarlet from her collarbone to her hairline. There’s water down her chin and the front of her cardigan is wet in a place I shouldn’t be looking at.

She is all curves and cuteness, and I have no business putting my hands anywhere on this woman.