Bad Boy Blues - Jessica Lemmon Page 0,18

and he totally could. “They were meant for each other.”

“Yes, sir,” Gramps said. “Pancake!” Lila danced at his feet, and Gramps tossed a pancake into the air like a Frisbee. She caught it.

“New trick,” Gramps said proudly.

After turning down the offer of pancakes, Brady headed to Cup of Jo’s. On his drive to Endless Avenue, he admired the water. The lake was sparkling like someone had thrown diamonds onto the surface, and after spending most of Saturday on the back of a Jet Ski and Sunday boating with friends, he wanted to play hooky. He was as susceptible to summer fever as everyone else in this town.

He brushed a blond dog hair from his dark-blue uniform and entered the coffee shop, waving at a few regulars as he walked to the counter. Chin up, he perused the board, even though he always ordered the same thing. He was a simple guy, but curious about the new concoctions Jo invented. The iced peanut butter chocolate latte sounded…interesting.

“Let me guess. Coffee. Black.”

He jerked his attention to the barista. Elliott, as it turned out. She was standing behind the counter wearing a maroon T-shirt, a green apron tied at her waist. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her big eyes hadn’t yet left his.

“Elli Bean. You’re living up to your nickname.”

She grinned, which made his whole damn morning.

“When’d you start working here?”

“This morning. I only know how to make a few drinks though, which is why Zack’s here to babysit me.”

The other barista waved from where he stood stocking bags of coffee on a shelf behind the counter. “Hey, Brady.”

“Hey.” Brady reached for his wallet.

“It’s on me. I’m paying you back for the tire, remember?”

“I don’t want paid back, remember?”

Defiantly, she punched a button and stuffed money from her pocket into the cash drawer before closing it again.

“Maybe you’re right. You are trouble.”

A feisty glint lit her eye. “Does that mean you’re not going to try, Officer?”

Something in her had shifted. He could sense the tension simmering between them. She turned her back to pour his cup of coffee and snapped on a lid. When she handed him the cup, his fingers lingered on hers.

She didn’t pull away. And her smile endured.

“I haven’t yet begun to try, Elli Bean. When I do,” he dipped his chin, “you’ll know it.”

“Or maybe,” she said, her voice low and flirty, “I’ll beat you to it.”

Oh, she wants to play? It is on.

“Thanks for the coffee.” He held up the cup. “I’ll get out of your way since you have customers.”

“But there’s no one else—” The door dinged as a couple entered. She glanced at them and then back to Brady. “You notice everything, don’t you?”

“Especially what people don’t want me to notice,” he added with a tip of his imaginary hat. “Ma’am. Have a good day.”

It wasn’t until he was outside of Jo’s and halfway down the block that he realized he didn’t notice everything. He’d totally missed that Elli had written her phone number on his coffee cup.

Chapter 11

Turned out that Brady “trying” looked a lot like him arriving at her house in a white T-shirt and board shorts. He looked as good as he had the other day when he’d brought the Jet Ski by. Or almost as good. Lost in the vision of the glimpse she’d had of his naked chest that day, she forgot her manners.

“Morning,” he greeted. Likely because she hadn’t said a word yet.

“Hi.” She’d had a brief, daring moment of insanity when she’d written her number on his cup. When he didn’t call or text that day, she convinced herself she’d made a grave error in her assumptions. After a phone call with her therapist, though, she felt a lot better. Elliott had needed the reminder to trust herself. She’d been through a trauma with Neil, but she’d come a long way, and quickly.

Brady had finally texted her this morning. A simple “You home, Bean?” and chills had skated up her arms.

Her response had been, “Just made coffee if you want a cup.”

“I came to collect,” he said now, gesturing to her coffee mug.

“Lucky you,” she told him as he stepped into her parents’ house. “I made a freshly ground, slow-dripped pot of Cup of Jo’s.”

His eyes warmed to a distracting degree. “You know what I like, Elli Bean.”

In the wide kitchen, he somehow filled the room. He exuded both competence and comfort, and both of those were distracting to the nth degree. An infectious