I don’t hesitate when I reply, “I’m free.” Even if I weren’t, I would make myself available for him. I’m desperate to peel back those layers to get to know who the real Elijah Hart is. Not this façade he wears for the world, masking the broad and broody man beneath.
He’s just so… controlled. There is no other word for it.
Hopefully, an informal coffee outside of work, where we won’t talk about his firm or the event, will also give me a chance to help him warm up to me. From his invitation, I can tell he’s slowly thawing, that hard exterior starting to melt.
Soon enough, I’ll have him eating out of my hand.
Or even eating me… For the sake of a successful conference, of course.
7
ELI
Crazy.
That’s what I am right now.
Batshit, entirely out of my mind crazy.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing or why I suggested that I was ready to accept her offer to buy me a coffee today.
If I thought I was losing it before, now I know I’ve totally lost my fucking mind.
When I caught sight of her bicycle outside the store, like a magnet, I couldn’t stay away and found myself walking inside the store toward her like a man possessed.
I’m glad I did it because I’ve discovered something new about myself: I have a thing for cut-off denim shorts and cowboy boots. Both of which she’s wearing today.
Those cowboy boots are all I’ve thought about since yesterday, imagining what they would look like on either side of my head as I…
Stop. It. Eli.
She continues to talk to me at one hundred miles an hour about all the new galleries, food spots, and music venues that have opened up in her favorite neighborhood, pointing them out as we pass the farmers market.
“I love this place; they do the best iced drinks,” Sapphire says, walking with her bicycle by her side as she excitedly points at a coffee shop I’ve never been to before.
Probably because it’s not in a part of the city I usually visit. Also, it’s packed wall-to-wall with people. I can already feel the tension creeping into my muscles, making them cramp.
As if sensing my discomfort, Sapphire suggests, “Let’s sit outside.”
That’s a relief; any worries I have dissolve in a flash.
She makes a beeline for a bike stand and marches over to it, locking her bicycle securely. It’s so clean, and I get the impression that it’s her pride and joy. Even the pink artificial flowers she’s attached to the rim of the white basket look new.
“That table in the shade looks perfect.” She walks toward it purposefully, and I follow her every move, unable to take my eyes off her and her tan legs… her curves, that perfect ass… It’s not just that, but all the other little things I’ve noticed about her since dinner the other night are getting out of hand. The way she glides rather than walks, smiles at everyone as they pass, and tucks her hair behind her ear even when it doesn’t need tucking, then there’s her… what the fuck is it? Aura, or vibe, I don’t know, but whatever it’s called, she’s magnetic. At least ten guys clocked her on the short walk here.
Someone level-headed would tell you it’s because she smiled at them first, but I saw the glint in their eye, hinting at a desire to get to know her better. Some might also say that her damn belly ring has them transfixed. Me too. But again, she’s an attention magnet without even realizing it.
I should go.
Turn around and leave.
Let her go about her day.
Without me in it.
I don’t need to be here.
I shouldn’t be here.