“And that’s why he wants to take you out for coffee.”
“Well, it’s not like he would know I’d like that.”
“Have you looked in the mirror lately? Everything about you screams wholesome, and that’s exactly what guys like him would be down for.”
“Is that what…you’re into? The dominating stuff?”
“Nah, I’m more of the anything-goes mindset. Look at you all curious now.”
Hopping off the washer, I began to pace the floor. “Brayden…do you think this is a good idea, then? I mean, I don’t know anything about those kinds of…well, you know. This guy’s obviously out of my league, and—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t even start with that shit. Everyone was a poor-ass college student once. Well, present company excluded, but you’re freaking out over nothing. It’s just coffee. He’s not demanding you get on your knees yet. Although I’ve seen the guy, and trust me, I’d gladly get on mine if he snapped his fingers. He’s sexy as fuck.”
Smiling to myself, I nodded. “Yeah, he really is. I could barely say a word to him. I’ve never frozen up like that before.”
I didn’t hear Brayden’s response to that, because a gust of wind came through the open door, knocking over the large trash can that had propped it open, and it started to roll down the sidewalk.
“I’ll call you back,” I said, and then shoved the phone into my pocket before running outside after the can.
As the wind whipped down the empty street, the buildings on either side of it provided a perfect tunnel for it to really gain strength. I’d been listening with keen ears to the one-sided conversation taking place inside, and when the trash can was tossed out of where it had been lodged, I had faded back into the shadows, knowing Jesse would likely come after it.
I wasn’t wrong.
I heard the jingle of the bell I’d seen wrapped around the door sound, as Jesse must’ve pushed it open to come outside, and then I spotted him running down the sidewalk after the tumbling can. He managed to get in front of it and stop it with his foot just before it went barreling out into the street, and as he bent to pick it up, another gust came through.
The hoodie he wore molded to his lean frame as he righted the can, and his blond hair shifted in the wind. And when he was finally upright with a tight grip on the runaway object, he turned to head back to where he’d come from and I snapped a quick picture with my phone.
He was about to completely bypass the side alley where I stood when he stopped, and I made sure to move behind the large dumpster that’d been behind me. He first glanced behind himself, then across the street, and then turned his head and looked directly down the alley.
My heart thundered at the game now having turned. He could feel me watching him. I knew it. And this time, I had done nothing to instigate it.
He waited there for a beat or two longer than I would’ve expected him to, and that only made this more exciting. The idea of being caught was just another high to go hand in hand with doing something I shouldn’t be in the first place.
But then, as if he decided he was safe, he began walking back to the laundromat, unaware that the only reason he was indeed not in harm’s way this evening was because the Wolfe watching him deemed it so.
7
Three fifty-five p.m. on Friday, and I stood just inside the main door of my apartment complex, peering out of the peephole. I didn’t want to look too eager by waiting outside, and my studio faced the back of the complex, so I’d decided to keep an eye out by looking like a total creeper.
Would he even come? Maybe he was just being nice by suggesting going out for coffee. There was no way a guy like Salvatore Wolfe could be interested in me. Yesterday, during my breaks, I’d gotten a chance to look him up online, and the sheer amount of Westport businesses he had a hand in was overwhelming. But while all the articles and websites came up with his professional achievements and awards, there was one thing that was glaringly missing—the Wolfe’s Den. I’d found no mention of it anywhere, and even a search on the club itself turned up nothing. It was as if it didn’t exist.
Strange, but then again, I supposed what people did there wasn’t something they wanted to advertise. I knew I wouldn’t.
God, but what if he did come? That was almost a more frightening thought than if he didn’t show up. Even in my best pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, I still felt entirely unimpressive, but considering I’d been in my work uniform the last time Salvatore had seen me, it was a step up.