The Lonely Hearts Club || Aidren
“Woah-ho-ho,” Aidan’s eyebrows shot up as she finished her tirade. “Slow down there, sweetheart. I know you’re capable of walking and talking and dancing your own way to the counter, if you so choose. I was just trying to be a nice guy. Excuse me wanting to help you out.”
He sat back, taking a sip from his own cup before setting it on the table. “Look, I realize maybe I came on a little strong. But you looked thirsty. I just thought I’d help out. You’ve been sitting here a long time. I know how hard it can be to find a spare moment to get up and order another drink.”
Glancing around, he noted her many bags, “There’s always the question of what to do with your stuff. Can I leave it here or should I take it with me. I’m only going up to the counter. How long could that take? But what if they’re slow? Look, I get it.”
He gestured back to her seat as she stood up. “Now would you please sit back down? And maybe pack away your claws? Not that they’re not attractive. But a little much for the first meeting. Maybe save them for next time.”
With that, he leaned back and made himself comfortable.
Her angry rant would’ve sent most guys packing. But that’s where Aidan was different. With years of practice under his belt, he knew how to handle every type. It was just a matter of finding what works. This one obviously didn’t need charm. Or, at least, not the kind of charm he used with Amaira and thousands of others like her.
That’s fine. Every girl’s different. He just had to find what worked with this one. And when he did, well, he was confident she’d fall for him, the same as all the others. And then maybe she’d stop staring. Or at the very least, maybe she’d smile while she did.
It wasn’t the staring that unnerved him. That, he was used to. It was the glaring. Aidan wasn’t used to women glaring at him. He couldn’t even remember the last one who had. But this one? She was a piece of work if he ever saw one. If he didn’t already have his sights set on Amaira, he might give this one a go.
But she didn’t look rich. She didn’t even look like she could afford that second cup of coffee. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t ordered one.
Then why hadn’t she been more grateful? Girls usually loved free stuff. Unless this one only came here for the wifi. That would mean she wasn’t rich and, therefore, not even in his league. He didn’t play for quarters. He was here for the big bucks.
So this one wasn’t going to get him that ticket to Vegas. After things heated up with Amaira, he wouldn’t need it. But this girl was here every day. And he couldn’t take yet another day of her staring at him while he chatted with Amaira. So this would work. It had to.
“For the record, I don’t have a girlfriend. Fake or otherwise.” He gave her a small half smile, tilting his head as his eyes locked with hers. “If you’re talking about Amaira, we’re just friends. I’m not looking for anything more. With her or with you.” He sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands. “Look, if you think I came over here to flirt with you, you are entirely mistaken. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not really my type.
“I just came to give you a refill. And maybe get to know you a little better. You’ve been here every day this week. I work here now. If we’re both going to be regulars, the least we can do is get to know each other. As much as I’ve enjoyed the staring contest, I think we can do better. Maybe add in a ‘hello’ or a ‘how are you’ every once in a while.
“I’m not here to pack you in the car and whisk you off to Atlantic City. So don’t worry. You’re safe with me. I promise.”
His blue eyes continued to bore into hers as he licked his lips, his eyebrows shooting skyward as he cocked his head to the side, posing the unspoken question. Was she intent on keeping up her angry façade? Or would she sit back down, drink her tea and chat with him. If she didn’t, well, she’d be the first. That’s why he was sure she would.
If not, well, he had lots of other tricks up his sleeve. A whole book’s worth. He was, after all, the master. You didn’t do this for ten years and not learn anything.
And Aidan, well, he was the best in the biz. Not that he’d brag about that or anything. At least, not to anyone who’d remember.
But this girl? Even though she contined to stare at him like he was the scum of the sea, Aidan didn’t doubt for a single second that he’d win her over. She maybe talk a good game but deep down, she wanted what all women wanted. To feel wanted.
And that’s exactly what he’d give her.
“I wouldn’t ask for your help if I was drowning to death in a lake made of lava.” She responded instantly, feeling herself stiffen even more. “Nor do I care whether or not you find any part of me ‘attractive.’ I did not come here hoping beyond hope that some Prince Charming on his metaphorical white horse would come up to me, offering coffee and conversation and save me from my poor lonesome life.”
God, he is so disgustingly condescending. Karen thought to herself as she watched him settle back in his chair and just wait for her to sit down. So fucking confident that there was nothing she could say or do or think that wouldn’t make her want him. What the hell kind of life had he been bred into that had made him so certain he was the be all end all of men? That any woman would just fall at his feet the second he sat down and flashed them a brilliant smile paired with a “free” cup of coffee?
That cup of coffee wasn’t free. Nothing that a man had ever given Karen had ever been free. Everything had a price and Karen didn’t feel like paying anymore.
“Tell me, mister high, mighty and ‘friendly’, does all of this honestly work on anyone?” Karen gestured to all of Aidan finally, shaking her head and laughing. “I mean, I guess it must because you apparently have far too much confidence in your own ‘charms’ as I’m sure you refer to them if you think for a second I’m going to sit down and drink your fucking pity coffee.” She glared down at the man with the force of a thousand fires before continuing. “I don’t give a shit about making friends. That’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to work. And even if I was, you’d be the last person in the world with which I’d want to be friends. I see you, okay? I see right through your good/bad/whatever you want me to be boy façade. And it’s just really fucking sad. If you knew better, you’d leave Amaira alone and get a new hobby. She’s a good kid and you’re going to ruin that.”
With that, Karen turned on her heel and stalked out of the coffee shop, trying to ignore the multitude of judgmental eyes that tracked her path. Though certainly most of all trying to ignore the pair of ice-blue eyes that for a brief second had made her chest clench in a way she thought she’d never experience again.
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Of course, Karen would not let the idiot win, though. She refused to let him believe he affected her life to the degree that she would change coffee shops in which to work. This was her spot. She had been here before him and would still be here long after he’d gone. Though she cursed herself a little when she walked in and spotted the Jackass right away. He stared at her as soon as the bells above the door announced her presence.
Two can play this game, asshole. Karen thought to herself, glaring straight back at him as she walked over to her usual table in the back next to the window and heavily dropped her things next to her seat. She took her damn sweet time pulling all of her items out, placing them all very specifically upon the table, waiting until the jerk was occupied to come up and order her drink.
Yet, it should have come as little surprise that none other than Pretty Boy himself brought the steaming mug of black coffee over to her table. She barely looked up from her paperwork before beginning to speak, hoping to cut him off at the pass.
“I swear to God if you do not just set that mug down and walk away, I will throw the entire boiling hot contents into your face. Or maybe at your crotch. I haven’t decided which is worse yet. The immediate satisfaction level for your crotch is much higher, but the thought of possibly disfiguring your prized pretty-boy looks is just really, truly, tempting.” Karen finally looked up at him them, flipping brown bangs out of her eyes and lifting an eyebrow his way.
“So what’s your choice, hmm? Get in your little jabs that you have been practicing all night and suffer the second-degree burns as a symbol of your manhood; or, as I suggest you really should, will you walk away and live to sweet-talk some other incredible idiot with those baby blues yet another day?”
Karen tried to ignore the twittering she heard behind her. Idiot little girls giggling and whispering to each other in hushed tones as they watched the two of them locked in heated battle.
Isn’t that her?
Oh my god Jenna, not so loud! She’ll hear!
Her spine stiffened even further, fingers clenching about themselves, and jaw setting in a straight line. And for a moment, Karen had to admit that maybe this douche was useful in one sense: it was a lot easier to punch him in the face than to admit that she was fighting a losing battle against an entire town.
