I swirled the coffee around, trying to cool it a bit before taking a sip. It had been a long trip over the pond, and even longer to get to Colorado. I was looking to relax for a few weeks, do some skiing, see my dad. I was almost finished with university, getting ready to seek a job in finance. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to come back to the States to be closer to my dad or stay in England where I’d made so many friends.

The coffeehouse traffic bustled around me, tourists streaming in and out for their coffee fix. The barista gave me a smile. She’d slipped me her number along with my coffee. She was certainly pretty enough, but I wasn’t here for a fling. I’d done enough of those at Oxford to last a lifetime. I smiled back at her before dropping my eyes. No point being rude.

The door opened with a jingling sound accompanied by a woman with a scarf, hat, and sunglasses. She was curvy and tall. I couldn’t quite see her face, but it had to be gorgeous like the rest of her. I straightened in my chair and ran a hand through my auburn locks, smoothing them down as best I could.

She shifted from one foot to the next as she waited to order. Her ass, a perfect plump orb, moved in her jeans. She had a small waist and her tits were high and large. My cock hardened in my pants as any number of inappropriate thoughts rushed through my mind. I licked my lips as heat rose along my skin.

She ordered her drink, a dizzying combination of flavors that I couldn’t follow, and turned toward the area where I sat. When she saw me she stiffened and reached for her sunglasses. She pulled them off and gave me a look that could melt lead.

Bloody hell. “Annalise?”

“Niles.” She moved away toward the bar area. To the barista, she said, “I need that in a to go cup, please. As soon as possible.”

Clearly, she’d wanted to sit in the shop for a while, but my mere presence was about to drive her back out into the cold again. I couldn’t blame her. I’d been a total wanker to her the entire time I’d lived with her and her mom in Dallas. I was in a bad head space at that time in my life. My mom had died two years before. I couldn’t forgive my father for remarrying. I took it out on Annalise. I knew that now. I’d thought so many times about how I might try to apologize, to make it up to her. But we were strangers now, more or less, and I didn’t want to reopen old wounds.

By the way she cringed away from me in the coffee shop, it appeared the wounds had never fully closed. And going three years without an apology from me? I was the biggest tosser this side of the Atlantic.

I stood and took a step toward her. She leaned away even though I was several meters from her. This was going to be slow going. Getting closer to her was clearly not an option. I resume my seat. She eyed me like I was a particularly loathsome rodent. I rubbed my hand over my jaw, desperately trying to figure out how to rectify a five-year mistake in five minutes over coffee.

When her order was up she thanked the pretty barista and took her drink. She gave me one more acidic glance and headed toward the door.

“Annalise,” I called.

She stopped.

“Please, I just want to talk is all.” I tried to give her my most winning smile.

She grimaced.

Fail.

The barista watched the scene with interest. She perked up at my accent. All the American women did. Except Annalise.

She seemed caught in a fight or flight instinct. Was I really that bad?

One look in her eyes told me yes, I really was.

“Please?” I dropped the smile and just tried to straight up grovel.

She relaxed a bit, her stance not quite as tense. The door opened, sending a blast of cold air onto her. She shied away from the chill, back toward the dining area. Back toward me.

She squared her shoulders, as if she were about to take on an entire rugby team, and approached. The frown on her face told me I was barely the winner in the Niles versus hypothermia battle.

She eased into the chair opposite me and continued her skeptical perusal.

“You’ve gotten big.”

She arched an eyebrow.

Good one, Niles.

“I mean, you’ve grown. Not that I’m saying you’ve grown like big. I mean, like, you’ve filled out and …” Stop, just stop talking.

She crossed her arms over her chest, which only made her breasts look bigger. Mayday, mayday.

I took a gulp of my too-hot coffee to avoid having to make any more sounds with my mouth. It burned like the fires of hell, but I didn’t make a peep. Christmas music piped through the speakers and did a poor job of covering the uncomfortable silence.

She’d sat with me. It would have to be enough. Besides, just busting out an apology with no explanation or build up didn’t seem to be the best move. Or did it? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was she was giving me a death glare I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from.

She took a small sip of her coffee and her gaze slid to the door. I was losing her. I couldn’t stall. It was now or never.

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes opened wide and she set her coffee down so hard it geysered from the lid and landed with a slap in the floor.

“Sorry?” she hissed. “Sorry for tormenting me, calling me names, embarrassing me, spreading lies about me at school, getting other kids to call me ‘assless Anna’? I could go on, Niles.” She put a lethal dose of venom into my name.

She was right. I had been a rotten prick to her.

“I know. And you’re right to be angry.” I didn’t think she’d still be this angry, but I supposed what I thought didn’t matter at this point. “I was having a hard time with our parents’ marriage and I did and said things I never should have. I’ve wanted to apologize—”

The pretty barista came up and bent over to clean the spill. Her ass was in the air, her magenta thong clearly visible over the top of her jeans. I glanced away from it, but it was too late. Annalise had seen me looking.

“You can’t be serious right now.” Her voice rose, anger in each note. “You want me to come over here and sit while you try to explain how sorry you are for torturing me when we were teenagers and, just to put the cherry on top, you ogle the waitress? You think this is a joke? You think those years of you treating me like an ugly stepsister were funny?”

“Hey, I’m a barista, not a waitress.” Pretty barista really didn’t need to interject herself.

Annalise threw her hands up. “You know what? I’m done.” She grabbed her coffee and practically darted to the door. She looked back once. I don’t know why. But I saw the tears gleaming in her eyes and it tore at my heart. Then she was gone out into the cold.