CHAPTER ONE
Mason
She was gorgeous and didn’t even know it. Brown curls bounced as that plump form moved behind the counter.
“Coming up,” the female murmured with a shy smile at the guy in front of me. “Bear claw just like you ordered.”
But as the barista turned and slid the pastry out onto a warming tray, the dude got agitated.
“I want a new one!” he said sharply, “Don’t give me that used shit, you touched it with your bare hands.”
The brunette paused, dismayed. Maybe she’d touched it, maybe a small finger had grazed the flaky edge as the pastry had slid from the glass case, but it was unlikely. Baristas have an uncanny way of handling food items, and I was sure that Katie, as her name tag proclaimed, had been careful.
But nodding silently, the girl stepped over to the trash to dump the first pastry, perfectly good food going to waste. Even more, I could see the tremble in her chin, the way her lashes swept down, hiding tears. Oh shit, oh shit. This fucker was such an asshole, such an idiot douche and I had to step in.
“I’ll take it,” I called out casually. “No worries, no germs are gonna get me today.”
The girl looked up startled, brown eyes wide, meeting mine. God, she was gorgeous, Katie was absolutely my type with the pert, uplifted nose and generous mouth. She hesitated for a moment.
“Are you sure, sir?” she murmured. “I’m happy to get you a new one as well.”
But I shook my head, not even glancing at the customer in front of me.
“It’s totally fine,” I rumbled casually. “Like I said, germs are for second grade, I’ll survive.”
The stranger whirled to face me then.
“I’ll have you know that I’m a cancer survivor,” he sneered. “I can’t just go eating anything and everything. I have to make sure things are super clean, fresh and hot, you never know what could bring it on again.”
I’m not exactly a pro at medical things, but still, his explanation was crazy.
“So you can buy pastries from Ninth Street Espresso, but not if someone accidentally touches it because you’re sick,” I deadpanned, looking him straight in the eye. The guy was about my age, tall and fit, not a day over twenty-five. But he flushed when faced with an alpha male.
“You don’t know what’s out there,” he huffed importantly, puffing out his chest. “Doctor’s orders,” he snapped, like that was the end all, be all.
Fine. This guy was such a loser, and besides, this conversation was totally pointless. I just wanted to get back to admiring the beautiful barista, the way that rump swayed as she moved, lush and round.
“Like I said, I’ll take it,” I rumbled again with a smile her way. “Bear claws are my favorite.”
Katie nodded gratefully, still flushed, glancing downwards shyly before looking up at me again.
But evidently the words set off my opponent because Mr. Cancer Survivor put up his fists, like we were about to duel.
“That’s my bear claw,” he snarled. “You got no claim to it.”
I stared at him, blue eyes disbelieving.
“Are you shitting me?” I asked slowly. “You just said you didn’t want it, that you can’t eat it because of your illness.”
“Well I want it now,” he snarled back, shifting his weight from foot to foot like a boxer about to fight. “That pastry’s got my name on it, you don’t know shit.”
I shook my head slowly. New York City is a weird ass place, and there are kooks on every corner. I turned back to the barista, exchanging a long look before lifting both my hands in surrender.
“Fine, it’s yours,” I replied shortly. “Take it, there’s more than enough,” I said, gesturing to the glass counter filled with pastries below us.
But dude was itching for a fight and before I realized it, the guy launched himself at me, fists bared, ready to pummel.
“I said it’s mine!” he screeched, “You came out of nowhere and took it from me! It’s mine!” he screamed again.
He landed one good one to my chest out of surprise more than anything. I hadn’t exactly expected to brawl this early in the morning, on my way to the office. But hey, a fight is a fight, and shit, I hate little twerps, losers who make like they’re big men on campus. So I swung right back, landing a solid one to his abs.
And Mr. Dorky bent over, gasping like a fish out of water. Like a lot of guys in the city, the loser looked okay on the outside, reasonably fit and tall. But it was all an illusion. The expensive suit hid a flabby body, muscles wasting away underneath, and when my fist made contact, that stomach was doughy and soft. Immediately, the smaller man keeled over, clutching at his middle.
“You hit me!” he squealed, eyes watering. “You hit me!”
I stepped back, breathing hard.
“You attacked me,” I said disbelieving. “You attacked me first.”
Okay we were starting to sound like kindergarteners and the beautiful barista stepped in then.
“Come on guys,” she said breathlessly, small hands waving. “This is all over a pastry, which is crazy. How about if I comp both you guys?” she asked, trying to take charge. “Two coffees and bear claws on the house today.”
But the guy in front of me was a complete lunatic because he launched himself at me again least when I was expecting it, a blur of shoulders, arms, and grappling fists. But unfortunately, Katie was in the way this time, bearing the brunt of the attack.
“Unnph!” she huffed, thumping to the ground. I could see those generous curves squashed beneath the other man’s form, and something rose in me, primitive and animalistic, welling up like a red wave.
“Get the fuck off her,” I raged, grabbing the dude’s arm with one hand, his leg with the other. “Get the fuck off her, she doesn’t belong to you.”
And with that, I literally tossed him aside like he weighed nothing, a limp buoy bobbing in the ocean. He landed in a sprawl, a jangly mass of arms and legs, but did I give a fuck? No, all I cared was that my beautiful brunette was good, curves ripe and intact.
“You okay?” I asked, helping her up. “That guy,” I said, shooting the loser a grim scowl, “is some kind of crazy.”
Katie brushed her apron off, looking stunned.
“I’m fine,” she panted slightly, eyes wide, boobies heaving. “I’m fine.”
And with that, the other dude finally got up, looking worse for the wear.
“Both of you will pay!” he squealed. “I’m a guy with cancer and this is all on video!” he said, gesturing to the camera mounted in the corner. “This is all on HDTV!” he screamed again, before fleeing out the door.
The brunette and I turned to look at one another again.
“I’m so sorry sir,” she stammered, looking down at my rumpled suit. “I think he was high,” she ventured as an explanation.
I laughed, throwing my head back, showing off even white teeth.
“High on what?” I asked rhetorically. “Ritalin? Some ADD drug? That guy was just plain crazy, it wouldn’t matter what he snorted. This is New York City,” I shrugged, a gleam in my eye. “Shit happens every day, all day.”
At that the brunette shot me a quick smile.
“I’m so glad you understand,” she said. “I’m Katie by the way,” she murmured, thrusting a hand out. “Thanks for getting that guy off me.”
I already knew her name from the metal nametag pertly pinned above one big breast. But something about my intent look made her flush.
“What?” she whispered, lips trembling. “What is it?”
I grunted.
“Sweetheart,” I said slowly. “You’ve got a pretty bad cut on your forehead, did you know that?”
“Where?” the brunette asked, fingers automatically going up to touch her head. “I didn’t notice, things happened so fast,” she said, feeling around.
But I stopped her hand.
“It’s pretty bad,” I said, grabbing her wrist. “It’s all in your hair, we better take you to the emergency room.”
“No, no, I’m fine,” she said quickly, still trying to feel around in those brown curls. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated. “I’m the only one on shift this early in the morning and no one else comes in until noon. I’ll be fiiii…” Her words dropped off because the girl’s eyes drifted shut slowly, and if I hadn’t caught her just then, the ripe female would have slid to the floor.
“Fine, hmmm?” I growled, looking at the little girl in my arms, that plump form dead to the world. “Totally fine, hmm?”
And with zero hesitation, I hoisted the brunette into my arms. So what if it looked weird? So what if was strange that a huge, hulking alpha male in a suit was coming out of Ninth Street Espresso with a dead-to-the-world woman in his arms? I’m used to getting my way, and this morning was no exception.
Striding to the Maserati, I blipped open the door before slowly placing Katie inside. The brunette was so gorgeous, so absolutely beautiful with her eyes closed, lush lips slightly parted. My body jerked painfully and I almost drove her straight to my penthouse, plans be damned. But the urgency of the situation halted me in my tracks, making me growl. Because we needed a fake fiancée … and here she was.