Page 10 of Harvest Maze

I shook my head. “It’s a fantasy. And the masked man wasn’t going to hurt me.”

“Okay, keep it in your dreams, girl.”

“I read a book like that once,” Carmela giggled. “I can lend it to you if you’d like.”

“She’s probably read it already,” Maria drawled.

“Thanks, though!” I didn’t want her book, because I didn’t like borrowing books. I liked my own copies. Ones that I could leave little notes in the margins, keep pretty on my shelves…and not feel bad about if they ended up in the wash machine.

It only happened once!

After that disaster, I put a policy in place to shake my blankets before they got cleaned.

“But what if….” I sighed.

None of the guys I’d ever dated would want to play that kind of messed up game with me.

“But what?” Maria crossed her skinny, chicken arms over her chest.

“But nothing,” I drawled and took the beverage to the pickup area.

A throat cleared next to me.

I let out a squeak and looked at the customer side of the counter.

It was him. In broad daylight. And mama mia! What a difference that made. Demyan was tall, probably closer to seven feet than six. His shoulders were thick, and the scruff on his face was as black as his hair. But those eyes….

Merciful saints above, those eyes!

They were the deepest of blues.

“I’m here to have the coffee,” he stated, looking like I was the prep team for a colonoscopy.

I swallowed hard and gave him a smile. “Of course! Hi, by the way, I’m so glad you’re here!”

He was beyond adorable. Sure, he was rough around the edges with a wild, masculine energy. If he wasn’t a Made Man, he sure would fit the criteria the Ravellos were always looking for in their soldiers.

But the nervous way he kept darting glances at the board on the back wall softened him.

“Which coffee, bro?” Luca asked from his position at the point-of-sale computer.

My neighbor stared at me. Panic flashed through his eyes. He was helpless, like a wild animal, but it seemed wrong to equate him to a bunny.

Still, the desire to help the great big beasty consumed me.

“He wants the caramel apple macchiato,” I helpfully supplied. “I’ll get it started for you.”

Demyan moved down the counter to the computer and paid before going to sit at the table closest to the counter.

The skin on the back of my neck prickled.

He was looking at me. I didn’t need to glance over to confirm it.

A secret thrill fluttered through my chest. I suggested that he come, and he did. I wasn’t put off by his gruff exterior. He was probably a loner, and the fact that he was making an effort to engage in human contact meant a lot.

I took the drink over and stood behind a chair.

Demyan lifted it, smelled it, and took a sip. Frothed cream clung to his top lip. A slow burn sang through my veins, and I had to force my teeth clamped shut to keep from licking my own lips.