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Saint: I have a bunch of bikes, if you want to go for a ride sometime.

Riley: I’d love that. Maybe I could take you up on that coffee offer too?

Saint: Pick the time and place. I’ll be there.

Riley slid her phone onto the table facedown.

Kristi glanced over. “What’s with the smile?”

“Biker Boy and I are going to get coffee.”

“Cute.”

“Right!?”

Kristi turned back to her computer screen and didn’t respond. Riley found some take-out place nearby and ordered, then spent the rest of the evening reading about HR nightmares on social media.

It was cathartic.

Chapter 8

Riley

The whir of steam competed with the buzz of conversation as they waited in line. Sun glinted off the chrome on the espresso maker, and the collection of vintage mirrors that hung behind the counter threw colour onto the walls. Raincoast Coffee Roasters was Riley’s favourite place.

Saint stood at her back, tall and brooding, and it was all she could do to not lean back into him. Down. Girl.

The small smile on his face was not helping the situation. She moved up in line and smirked to herself. She was doing it. Dating. Ha.

It wasn’t a date, per se. More like testing the waters. She’d specifically stayed away from the word “date” while they’d texted and planned this. Coffee and a walk seemed civilized. Smart.

“What can I get you?”

Riley smiled at the server and ordered a black coffee. Their nose ring glinted blue as they smiled back.

“And you?” They looked up at Saint as he stepped forward. Riley shifted out of the way but let her pinky brush his hand, because she had no self-control.

He glanced at her for barely a second, and her stomach flip-flopped.

“A mocha with extra syrup and whipped cream, please,” he said, hardly loud enough to be heard over the noise. The server’s hand hovered over the screen, eyes flicking up to his face and back down again.

“Extra… of both?”

Saint nodded placidly, and Riley snickered under her breath. He shot her a more pointed look and then paid for both drinks. Several people waited in front of them at the counter, and a harried barista flew back and forth, shouting out orders.

“I thought you were joking about the sweet tooth. You don’t really look like the type,” Riley said as she leaned back against the brick wall, away from him. Maybe she’d settle down when he wasn’t within touching distance.

He shook his head. “I’m full of surprises,” he said with a straight face, and Riley giggled. Like a schoolgirl.

Get. It. Together.

His dark jeans hugged his thighs, and without his ballcap he looked younger, less intense, but still created a pocket of space in the crowded shop. Maybe it was the leather jacket over his arm, or his height, but people seemed to keep their distance instinctively. Saint leaned his shoulder on the wall, next to her head, and Riley stopped herself from leaning closer to smell the faint cedar.

A smug smile played over his lips and she dared herself to hold his gaze. Sound faded as he leaned in and lifted a hand towards her face. His gaze flicked to her mouth and back up. Her lips parted on a silent breath, and his gravity pulled her closer. Blood rushed in her ears, and she tipped forward, focused on his mouth—

“Mocha and black coffee!”

Riley jerked back against the wall as the wave of conversation and hiss of steam rushed back in.