closed down the register. I was about to lock up. I could give you a coffee on the house, though, if you like. Just don't tell my boss."
"I'm not here for that." Z, you stupid son of a bitch. Don't do it. You can't afford to piss off the keeper of the coffee, and you know her. She likes you too much. She might not be on the same fuck and flee page you're on. But Z ignored the inner voice and flashed a dark smile, tossing in a wink to garnish the flirtation.
Cherry's eyes lit up and she returned a one thousand-watt smile of her own.
"Lock up and let's go. Yeah?"
It took her a couple of seconds to make her head move in a nod, then another few seconds and a throat clearing to manage a breathless yeah in return.
The barista tossed the washrag on the counter, ignoring the biscotti crumbs trailing down the length of it, and looped her arm in his, shutting off the lights and locking the door behind them.
Z continued to ignore the inner voice's ranting. If ever there was a time he needed to get laid, it was now. Fiona was right. He could do nothing but use her and toss her out. And she deserved better than that. No woman's first time should be with a playboy. It should mean something. The guy should be there the next day. There should at least be the hope of a relationship after, or at least some type of friends-with-benefits package. Z could offer none of the above.
He gave Cherry his helmet as she hopped on the back of the motorcycle. "Won't you need this?" she asked, as if she would refuse the gallant gesture.
"You need it more than me. I'm durable."
She laughed. It was the laugh that had amused him, maybe even turned him on a little, but now it set his teeth on edge. Still, he revved the engine and took them to the motel five blocks down the street.
Twenty minutes later they were in a room. It was clean and nice enough, but still appropriate for a single night with a glorified waitress. It wasn't where you took your girlfriend, which was good. He didn't want to send any inappropriate signals. Z peeled his shirt off and reclined on the bed. He couldn't seem to work up a chuckle or smirk at the way she practically fainted over his physique.
The female reaction to him had never gotten old. Until now. He stood and paced, feeling like he'd been locked up at the zoo with some stranger gawking and staring and admiring. If this was how he defined freedom, why did he feel so caged?
Cherry was in the process of unbuttoning her top, and the oppressive, trapped feeling came on stronger, making the room shrink to half its size. He wanted to crawl out of his skin. He wanted to shift and... he didn't know what. He just had to break free of whatever this was.
"Stop," he said, to try to calm the chaos in his mind.
"What? Is something wrong?" Cherry looked at him with a mixture of concern and apprehension.
"I can't do this."
Her eyes flashed. It was time for the anger portion of the evening. He was batting a thousand tonight. Maybe he could try to piss off a nun next.
"You know I've been sending you signals for months. You take me up on it, and now you're rejecting me? Is this some kind of game to you?"
Z suppressed a growl and pulled his shirt back on. "No. No game. I just can't do this. Whatever you think, it's not personal."
"Like hell it's not personal. You get your fucking coffee elsewhere from here on. If you come into the Java Junkie again, I'll tell my boss you've been starting trouble. Half of our patrons would back me. You give them the willies. There's something not right about you."
Z just shrugged. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, Cherry. It would have just been tonight, anyway."
"It's worth shit, is what it's worth, you son of a bitch." Her hands were shaking, part in anger and part due to embarrassment, as she was probably wondering if there was something wrong with her and her desirability that had caused his inability to bring himself to sleep with her. She buttoned the last few buttons, sent him an evil glare that he wasn't sure didn't come with a curse attached, and slammed the door behind her.
He followed her