Christopher

 

The whiskey loosened her tongue and now she won’t shut up. If I’d known she’d be a talker, I might have left her out in the snow.

 

Okay. I wouldn’t have left her out in the snow, but maybe I’d have bought myself some earplugs before the storm. Something to help me deal with her incessant talking.

 

I know it’s because she’s nervous. We’re strangers, and I’m sure that to Little Miss Coffee Shop I’m the Big Bad Wolf. I remember how she looked at me when I first walked into her place last week. Her eyes went round before she could stop herself. Her skin was already fair, but it turned so pale I could see the freckles standing out against her nose and cheeks.

 

I’m used to getting that reaction when people first meet me, though. It’s nothing new.

 

She’s not a bad person, of course. She was genuinely nice to me. But that was because she didn’t know me. She had no idea I really am the Big Bad Wolf.

 

Now she’s nervous, alone in the house with me. I notice the way she hesitates before taking off her coat, and I know it’s because she’s still slightly afraid of me. Even though I saved her damn life, she’s still afraid.

 

This isn’t exactly an everyday thing for me either. I haven’t spent this much time alone with a woman, awake and with our clothes on, in years. Ever since…

 

“Do you live here alone?” she asks, looking at me with those big green eyes. Innocent eyes.

 

“Why? You think the house needs a woman’s touch or something?”

 

“No.” I think I see a little bit of a blush on her cheeks. “I was going to say just the opposite. It’s a really nice house. Cozy.”

 

“Thanks. It was decorated by, uh, a woman I knew.” I look down at my hands. It’s still hard to talk about her, even after all this time. The girl is smart enough to not ask any questions.

 

“I just realized something,” she says, laughing. “I don’t even know your name!”

 

“God, of course not.” I’m laughing now, too. “I’m Christopher. Christopher Barton.”

 

“Amanda Ellingwood.”

 

“Amanda Ellingwood, you make a mean blueberry muffin. I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a week. Really, it was excellent.”

 

She definitely blushes this time. “Thanks.”

 

“You’ve been there how long now?”

 

“Six months.”

 

“I bet the town considers you a pleasant change from Danny.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, Danny was, you know, a guy. And not the handsomest guy either.” As a matter of fact, he looked like a troll. But I keep that to myself, not wanting to come off like too much of a prick. “The first thing I thought when I walked in was that it was a nice change of pace, seeing you behind the counter instead.”

 

She scowls, and I wonder what the hell I said to piss her off. “So what you’re saying is that because I have tits, I have customers?”

 

“That’s not what I said at all. I’m gonna chalk it up to the whiskey.”

 

But there’s no backing down from her. She stands up, hands on hips. “No, that’s exactly what you meant. I’m a girl, so people come to my shop. If I were a guy—a plain, average-looking guy—they wouldn’t be as likely to come in.”

 

“What the fuck difference does it make either way? Why are you getting so worked up over this? Either way, it works in your favor. You’re pretty. You’re nice. I’m sure people like visiting the shop and seeing a pretty, nice girl smiling at them. That’s all I meant.” I hold up my hands, surrendering. Christ, she’s tough.

 

She’s still simmering, but she sits back down. “My pastries are good.”

 

“I just said they are.”

 

She folds her arms. “And I remember everybody’s name and what they usually order.”

 

“I’m sure they appreciate it.”

 

“They do.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Why do you always have to have the last word?”

 

“I don’t.” She turns her head toward the fire so I won’t see her smile in spite of herself. Now that she’s not looking at me, I can size her up. She’s tall, curvy, with wavy dark hair that hangs past her shoulders. She has that rash of freckles on her nose and cheeks, which I don’t normally like, but on her, they’re cute. She’s the opposite of Michelle.

 

Even after two years, my heart clenches like it always does when I think of her. She was tiny, short and small framed, with golden blonde curls. She was always quiet, thoughtful, never really shared an opinion. Always going whatever way I wanted to go. Always stepping aside so I could stand in front of her. Smart as hell, but not overly opinionated. She’d been taught from an early age to keep her opinions to herself.

 

The girl in front of me right now is nothing like that. I’d tried to give her a compliment and she practically jumped down my throat.

 

So why am I so attracted to her? She’s nothing like the women I usually go for.

 

Because even now, when I’m on the prowl for pussy I go for women who remind me of Michelle. Petite blondes without much to say outside of complimenting me. Women who don’t fit that profile might as well not exist. Even when I first saw Amanda in the shop, I noticed that she was cute. But it didn’t go further than that. Because she’s not my type.

 

So why do I want to take her upstairs and fuck her senseless?

 

I don’t think she’d be the kind who’d go for just a one-time deal, though. And that’s all I’m interested in. No strings, no commitment. Not even a cuddle. Just sex. A basic human need. I won’t open myself up to anything deeper than that ever again. It’s not worth the pain.

 

She’s fun, though. Now that I know it’s so easy to get her riled up, I wanna find new ways to do it. She’s pretty enough when she’s just sitting there across from me, looking at the fire. When she’s pissed off, she’s gorgeous.

 

“What made you decide to buy the shop?” I ask her. “That’s a pretty big step for someone who’s practically new in town.”

 

“How did you know I was?” She’s on edge and I have to wonder why.

 

I just shrug, to show her it’s not a big deal. “You’re new here. I’ve lived here all my life, and I’d never met you before I walked in for a quick breakfast. You were nice to me, which, like I said, isn’t the norm. And you were totally unprepared for a freak storm, which we get around here at this time of year. There wasn’t even a blanket in your car.”

 

Her eyes narrow. I guess she wasn’t expecting me to have a brain in my head.

 

She doesn’t argue. “I’ve only lived here for eight months,” she admits. “I didn’t know winter was so weird.”

 

“Yeah, winter’s pretty weird.” I can’t help grinning. It’s just natural to tease her, though I don’t know why.

 

“How come I’ve only seen you once in eight months? Like you said, you’ve lived here your whole life. Why did you never come in before?”

 

“I was…away.” I wish I’d never asked in the first place. I don’t feel like getting into this with her. “And I’m not such a big fan of a lot of the town. I only go there every once in a while. Usually I’m out here, or working with my clients.”

 

“Clients? What do you do?”

 

“I’m a corporate attorney.” She smirks at me. “What? A corporate attorney can’t have ink?”

 

“If you’re not going to answer me seriously, don’t bother answering at all. I’m only trying to make conversation.”

 

“So you do judge books by their covers.” Now she’s scowling. “I’m a landscaper, actually. And you never answered my question. What made you decide to buy the shop?”

 

She’s shy now. I watch thoughts go through her head. She’s wondering if she can open up to me. Can I be trusted? Will I judge her? Why does she care? She has absolutely no poker face at all.

 

Finally, she settles on, “I’ve always loved baking. Since I was a little girl, I’ve dreamed of owning my own bakery. The coffee shop is the next best thing. I mean, it was like a sign, you know? I moved here because I thought it was nice, quiet. Peaceful. And then, bam! Coffee shop goes up for sale. Like it was meant to be. I couldn’t pass on the chance.”

 

“And you like it?”

 

“I love it. I really do.” She’s not only gorgeous when she’s pissed off, but she’s also gorgeous when she’s talking about the things she loves. Her eyes light up.

 

But she’s sexiest when she’s pissed.

 

I look out the window, noticing the wind isn’t howling the way it was before. “It’s slowed down a little,” I say, standing and stretching. I feel my tee ride up when I do, and I see her glance over to take a look when she thinks I won’t notice. I manage to hide my grin and keep that little bit of information in the back of my mind. The way she looked at me.

 

“I think it might not be a bad idea to go out and clear at least some of the snow,” I say. “It’s gonna keep snowing but I wanna get a jump on it, so there’s not so much to do all at once.”

 

“You trust me to stay in here all by myself?”

 

I can’t help smirking. As if she’s some sort of threat. “I think the house can handle it. Unless you’d rather come out and help me. Maybe those leather boots will keep your feet warm.” Even with a disgusted look on her face, she’s beautiful. And so easy to set off. I think saving her from the storm was a good move on my part.

 

My eyes move down to her body before I turn away. Yeah. It was a very good move.