“It’s about time you got off the phone, Chatty!” I say, thinking it’s Josh finally back with our change. I start to turn around to face him but I freeze when he replies.
“Who are you calling Chatty, Sweet Cheeks?”
It’s not Josh’s voice and he definitely would NOT call me Sweet Cheeks.
That deep, melodic voice is unmistakable. It vibrates through me, deep into my bones and makes me quiver and quake in ways I never knew were possible. Patrick never made me feel that way. But why won’t Coen leave me alone?
Do I want him to leave me alone?
Yes, Lexi, yes you do. No time for boys. Boys are assholes. But Coen is definitely not a boy. He is ALL man. All six foot whatever feet and 200 plus pounds of muscular, tattooed flesh of him. And God he smells so damn good.
Snapping back to reality I whip my head around and look up at Coen standing behind me. He looks so fucking sexy with his thumbs resting on the edges of the pockets of his dark jeans. His eyes are a gorgeous sea green.
“I thought you were Josh.” I say, reaching over my shoulder, pretending to make sure the tape is still on my tattoo, but really, I’m just nervous as hell talking to him so I’m fidgeting.
“And don’t call me Sweet Cheeks, Stalker.”
“Stalker? You know, name calling isn’t really the best way to treat a new friend.” Coen says furrowing his brows.
“For the record, Lexi, I’m not stalking you. It’s pure coincidence that we’ve ended up in the same place twice today. I’m not trying to put any moves on you. I just want to be friends. That’s all.” He says with a look in his eyes that tells me differently. Yet I can’t figure out why.
“Look, Coen,” I stand up and grab my things. Bre is taking entirely too long in the bathroom and I’m starting to think Josh is lost too. “Whatever your intentions may be, friends, dating, stalking, or anything else, I’m not interested. I just got out of a kinda shitty relationship. I’m not looking to spend time with men for any reason right now.”