My lips twitch. I try like hell not to burst out into a blushing laugh.
揗an, I am not discussing mouth-gasms with you,?I say.
揧ou抮e missing the point,?he says sharply. 揌elp me and help yourself, Miss Dakota. We never have to see each other again and you抣l be three hundred dollars richer.?
揟hree…hundred??I say slowly, my mouth falling open.
揧ou heard me.?His eyes flash with hope and triumph, and he starts reaching for his wallet.
Stay strong.
Invisible crucifix.
Latte holy water.
Do not be tempted by Lucifer.
揝ee, you抮e not making your case. Just further proving your insanity.?I eye him warily. Maybe there抯 some wild story behind how he stole this suit and he really did just escape some mental institution.
That would be the most believable explanation for what抯 happening.
Honestly, a lot less scary than thinking guys who look like billionaires want to spend their time reverse robbing strangers for their pastries.
揊ive hundred dollars, damn you,?he rumbles. 揊inal offer.?
My jaw detaches from my face.
Five hundred flipping smackers?
That抯 more than my student loan payment this month. Almost half my rent. I抦 tempted to sign my soul away, but my fingers clench the bag tighter, demanding me to be brave.
Not today, Coffee Shop Satan.
A smile that抯 almost comically pleading pulls at his lips.
Damn. Somehow, he抯 even hotter when he smiles and makes those puppy dog eyes. A face like his should come with a warning.
揑 see that got your attention,?he whispers.
揇id it??
揧our mouth dropped,?he says, making me keenly aware his gaze is fixed on my lips. I don抰 even know what to do with that.
He closes the space between us and reaches for my bag, trying to get the drop on me.
揌ey梟o! I told you it抯 not happening, crazypants.?I don抰 like the way he so casually invades my space. I also have a pesky habit of not taking a single speck of crap from anyone. Especially this past year.
But there抯 also this tiny thought nibbling at the back of my brain that screams this man is no different from Jay.
Just richer, stronger, better-looking, and possibly more arrogant.
Keeping this Regis roll out of his grubby paws is a little win for Dakota Poe against mankind. Against every swinging dick who brandishes his selfish ego like a club.
揑抦 perfectly sane. I simply need that roll, and I can抰 walk away empty-handed,?he tells me.
揧択now, I woke up inspired to write today. But I wasn抰 planning on getting real-world inspiration shoved in my face from someone so ridiculous.?
揑 have no idea what the hell that means, but I need the roll and you need money. Do we have a deal??
揥hy am I not surprised you can抰 follow simple English? Are you one of those guys who paid five hundred dollars for some poor geek to boost your grades too??
He glares at me like an angry bull.
揥atch your step, Big Mouth. You know nothing about me. Let抯 make a trade and be on our merry way for the sake of our blood pressure.?He gives me a slow, assessing look, his eyes sliding up my body with a weight that makes me shiver. 揧ou抮e on a bike. Don抰 tell me you couldn抰 use a few hundred bucks.?
揙rrr I could be so loaded I run a green power company and need to look the part,?I throw back. 揚lus, biking helps blow off some steam. You should try it sometime.?
Scowling, he grabs at my white paper bag again.
I shift away at the last second, slapping his big hand away.
Yeah, I抳e had it.
Narrowing my eyes, I glare back at him, reach into the bag, and pull out the warm roll. In slow motion, I bite off a massive chunk.
I chew it as loudly as I can, smacking my lips like war drums.
The most mouth-gasmic 揗mmmm-mmm-mmmm!?I抳e ever mustered in my life rips out of me.
Then I drop the bite-marked roll back into the bag, lick my fingers, and wipe my hands unceremoniously on the front of my jeans.
揝ee? Not everything is for sale. No deal.?
God.
I抳e seen my share of selfish men, but this one takes the cake梠r rather, he doesn抰 take the cinnamon roll I won抰 let him have. The tantrum brewing in his face when I make it crystal clear he抯 not getting this roll would scare the best kindergarten teacher pale.
His jaw clenches.
His bearish brown eyes become brighter, hotter, louder. I can hear them cursing me seven ways from Sunday.
It抯 not fair.
When he抯 majorly pissed off, he抯 a hundred times hotter than he was at first glance.
His eyes drop to my lips and linger for a breathless second.
His gaze feels so heavy I hug myself, trying to hide from the intensity of his scorned-god look that feels like it could turn me into a salt pillar.