Page 19 of Lilacs and Leather

“Hey, are you okay?” Gabby asks at my shoulder.

I jump at her sudden appearance, panting. “Jesus, Gabs!” I gasp.

She laughs and comes up to my side again, looking at my phone. She reads the message and inhales dramatically.

“You have Rhett Cooper’s number. And he’s asking for your coffee order!” she exclaims in my ear.

I flinch away from the noise and roll my eyes. “I have his number because he left it when he made his order,” I explain.

“He’s still asking for your coffee order, though,” Gabby teases, pulling gently on the end of my braid.

I purse my lips and look back at the message. He’s waiting for a response.

Me: Sugar, lots of it. If you think you’ve added too much, add one more.

Rhett Cooper: Haha, sweet tooth for a sweet girl.

My face goes hot, and my stomach flips a little at his praise.Why do I like that? And why do I want him to do it again?Gabby reads the message and lets out a long “aww,” hugging me around the shoulders.

“Is this guy for real?” she gushes, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet.

I blush deeper. Rhett Cooper does seem almost too good to be true. And, as the saying goes, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. A pit forms in my stomach at the thought. I put my phone away, even as Gabby pouts next to me. She needles me to continue texting him as I go back to watering the hanging baskets. And I can’t say that it’s entirely an accident when I catch her with the hose shortly after that.

∞∞∞

I look in the mirror for the third time since waking up. I purse my lips, debating whether my eyeliner and mascara were acceptable. It was just a little black swoop on my upper lid, not even winged out. I check my phone and groan as I realize I don’t have time to wipe it off and fix it again. I had already dressed and braided my hair in a simple plait, but even choosing an outfit this morning had felt like a chore. Nothing felt right, too loose or too tight, fabric too itchy or too soft. I have been taking the heat suppressants as they were prescribed to me, but it seems like this cycle will be a rough one.

Making a mental note to call my doctor about upping my dose, I grab my bag and head out the door. It feels weird to not be swigging coffee on my way to my car, but then I blush as I remember why.

Rhett Cooper is bringing me coffee.

My stomach lurches and my thighs clench at the thought. I get into my car and sigh, closing my eyes to collect myself before starting the engine and heading out. My dream last night had been particularly intense, his rolling accent whispering praise in my ear as his fingers filled my aching—

NOPE, pull it back, Lydia.

The wetness between my thighs at the memory of that dream brings another wave of heat to my face. I grip the wheel tighter, focusing on the road. My jeans don’t feel wet, but my panties are a lost cause. I just have to keep it together long enough for Rhett to collect his order and leave. I could hide in the back of the store once he left and then delete his number. He may be charming, but our connection is entirely professional. Once this was over, I never have to think about that delicious whiskey scent again. Or his dancing blue eyes. Or his perfect cupid’s bow of a mouth. Or the way his tongue wraps around my name like a caress.

I feel a little more settled as I pull into my usual parking spot in the back lot now that I have a plan. I’d dealt with alphas before, and I could handle this one. It would be a few minutes, at the most.

My mental pep talk continues through opening duties. Gabby keeps pestering me about when Rhett would arrive, but I brush her off. He hasn’t texted me since yesterday afternoon, and I hate that I feel a little disappointed. To be fair, I didn’t text him either. But, I remind myself, it’s just professional. Why would I need to text him?

The jingle of the bell on the front door draws my eyes from the roses I’m trimming in the back room. The scent of leather and old books drifts through the doorway and I feel my tense shoulders relaxing of their own accord.

“Good morning, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” a now-familiar voice greets.

“Mr. Cooper. I’ve been told that you have an order you need to pick up,” Wila says, her tone flat.

Rhett clears his throat a little. Is he nervous? “I do. Lyd-Ms. Anderson let me know it’s ready.”

Gabby, who’s standing across the stainless steel table, looks at me, her jaw practically unhinged.

“What is that accent?” she mouths to me.

“I don’t know,” I mouth back frantically.

“Lydia, your pickup is here,” Wila shouts through the open door.

“Coming, Gran,” I call back, cringing at how high pitched my voice comes out.