Latte Darling: Book Two of The Darling Series

There’s a sharp knock on the doorframe and I look up from my old desktop computer to find Rodrigo standing just outside my office. “What’s up?”

“Dude at the paint store called to say that color you ordered is in. He wants to know if he should mail it or if someone is gonna go get it.”

I’m pushing my chair away from the desk before he finishes. “I’ll get it.”

Rodrigo’s eyes widen. “Uh, alright.”

There’s a hint of question in his tone, but I know he doesn’t voice it. But I get it. It’s not like me to go pick up paint – or anything – in the middle of the day, but my mind hasn’t been focused all week. Or I should say it hasn’t been focused on work all week.

My hand pats the front of my jeans, checking that my keys are in my pocket. “I’ll grab lunch while I’m out, so it’ll be a bit.”

Rodrigo nods, then turns, heading back to work.

I like all my employees – if I didn’t, I’d fire them – but I’m not buddies with any of them. I don’t really do small talk. Hell, I probably say more to Brian than I do to anyone else, and he’s still barely talking to me after I took his phone and car last weekend. I can only fucking imagine what the fallout would be if he found out I took his date too.

“Fuck,” I curse at myself and drag a hand down my face.

Following Rodrigo’s path out of my office, I pick my way across the concrete shop floor, exchanging grunts and nods as I pass the different bays with a variety of cars in varying degrees of assembly. Bypassing the human-sized entrance, I walk out one of the open garage doors and into the late morning sun.

It’s a little early for lunch, but I’ve been here since before 7:00 and it’s a valid excuse for why I’m going to be gone longer than necessary. And I know I’ll be gone longer than necessary because I’m going to take the long way there. The very long way there. Through Darling Lake.

There’s nothing I need in that town. Save for one person.

One beautiful, funny, intelligent, stunning person.

I let the purr of the engine settle me.

I’m just going to drive past BeanBag.

I repeat that in my head as I pull out of the parking lot and onto the frontage road in front of Axel’s Bodyshop. My Bodyshop.

She’s probably not even working. Or maybe she is, but she’ll be in the back office working like I just was. And if she is… then I won’t see her.

Then I’ll never see her.

A now familiar tightness wraps around my lungs.

I keep telling myself all the reasons why I can’t pursue her. She’s too nice. Too innocent. Too young for me. But even at 21 years my junior, she’s already in a similar position as I am. Owning a business. Living in a nice home. She’s settled. And whether I want to actually admit it to myself or not, Maddie’s an adult.

I press my foot on the gas as I merge onto the highway heading towards Darling Lake.

I don’t know if Maddie meant to tell me where she worked. And honestly, I don’t know if she remembers telling me – which makes me feel like a bit of a stalker. But it’s not like I hacked her phone to find out. And I’m not going to stop. I’m just going to drive by.

The devil on my shoulder snorts. Just drive by, sure. And what in the fuck is the point of that?

I ignore the little voice. I’m just making sure she’s okay.

The music blaring through my speakers cuts off as my ringtone replaces it.

I expect to see the shop number scroll across the display but it’s Brian.

Hitting answer, I try to keep the surprise out of my voice. “Hey.”

Brian makes a grunt of greeting that sounds alarmingly like my own, “Do you know where my social security card is?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s in the safe in the bottom of my closet.” I answer slowly.

“Do I need a key to get it?”

“It’s got a spin code.”

There’s a pause, “You gonna tell me what it is, or should I guess?”

I roll my eyes at his smartass reply. Things have been strained this past week, but I can hear that he’s rolling his eyes too – rather than flipping me off through the phone – so that’s a good sign.

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s a birthday,” I tell him.

Another pause. “Mom’s?”

A full body laugh almost sends me careening off the road. “Jesus, Brian!” I laugh again.

His own chuckle filters into the car, “Well I dunno! Who else is there?”

“You, dumbass.”

“Me?” I can perfectly picture the way his face contorts as he asks this.

“Yes, you.” I shake my head. “Like you said, who else is there?”

“Who else indeed,” he scoffs. “You know it wouldn’t kill you to date a woman, right?”

“Uh…” I try to ignore the alarm bells going off in the back of my brain. There’s no way he knows.

“Wow, convincing, Dad,” he snarks. “Who knows? If you find the right woman, she might be able to pull that giant stick out of your ass.”

“Hilarious,” I deadpan.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll just stay married to your work. Speaking of, aren’t you gonna ask what I need my card for?”

I slow for a turn in the road, “I assume you need it for a job or to flee the country. And at this point, I’m kinda hoping for the latter.”

“Ha! Well sorry to disappoint, but it’s the former.”

“Anywhere I know?” I try to keep my tone casual.

I’ve been trying to get this kid on track for longer than I care to remember. If he’s finally doing it, I don’t want to jinx it.

“Bobby’s Autos.”

“What?!” I hit the brake too hard and screech to a stop, yards before the stop sign ahead of me. “What the hell?!”

“Calm your tits, old man. I’m going in undercover.”

I ignore the tits and the old man comments and move right to the last word. “Under. Cover.”

“Yep. Figured it was the perfect way to get some hands-on experience with guys that’ll treat me as just another worker. And it’s good to see how other people do things.”

“But… Did you put Axel’s on your resume? Didn’t that tip them off?”

He snorts, “Lots of people have worked for you. And I have Mom’s last name so even if they happen to know your full name, there’s nothing to connect us.”

I mull that over, “Huh.”

“And I mean it’s not like I’ll lie. If someone asks is Axel Davis your dad I’ll tell them yes. But if someone asks was Axel Davis a dick to work for I can also reply honestly with a yes.”

I have to smile at the genius of it all. “You’re a sneaky little shit.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Hmm, I won’t ask you to clarify.”

He chuckles, “Bye.”

The smile stays on my face as I hang up the call.

For a long while the plan has been to sell my shop to Brian when I retire. He’s grown up working on cars with me and claims he wants to be a part of the business. So it wasn’t like I was pressuring him to do it. But these past few years he’s spent most of his time fucking around and failing his classes, and it’s made me question my whole plan.

I don’t mind a little nepotism if it helps my kid get ahead in this shitty world. But I’m not going to hand him my life’s work if he’s not going to put in the effort to make it better. So him getting a job at a competitor’s shop… that shows a level of dedication I wasn’t sure he had in him. And it makes me proud.

My thoughts are distracted, and before I have time to prepare myself, the sign for BeanBag Coffee comes into view ahead of me.

It’s an unassuming building. One story, brick façade, big picture windows facing the street. A street lined with parking spots.

I slow and pull into one of the spots on my side of the road, opposite the building.

Leaving the engine running, I throw it into park and stare out my window, and into BeanBag.

The sun’s gone behind some clouds, making it possible for me to see in through the glass. The shop looks fairly busy – a few people standing in line, some bodies moving around behind the counter, half the tables filled with one or more customers – but I don’t see her.

Maybe she’s not working.

Maybe she’s in the back doing bookkeeping.

Maybe she’s minding her own goddamn business just like I should do.

Take the sign. Leave. She’s not here.

I wait for the angel on my shoulder to say something. To tell me to leave, tell me to quit being a Stage 5 Clinger. Except the little angel is kicked back, legs crossed, with an arm thrown over his eyes. Clearly as fucking done with me as I am with my conscience.

My jaw tightens.

To creep or not to creep?

I scan the cars parked in front of the building, but it’s not like I know what she drives. Her car was hidden away in the garage when I was at her house.

At her house. In her bed. Her legs wrapped around me, as she grinded up against my-

“Jesus Christ.” I exhale a breath. I really have fucking lost it.

My hand closes around the shifter, preparing myself to leave, when a flash of black catches my attention.

I move my hand to the top of the steering wheel, using my grip as leverage to turn my body straight on so I can get a better look. And just like that, there she is. All wide eyes, pink cheeks, and wild black hair framing her beautiful face.

My pulse slows. Heat infusing my blood at the sight of her, but somehow seeing her – knowing she’s close – calms me.

She moves out of view for one agonizing second, then reappears on the front side of the counter, meaning I can see all of her.

She winds between tables, picking up empty cups, chatting with the people she passes. Looking comfortable and content.

I shouldn’t be here.

This sight isn’t meant for me.

Then she smiles and my blood simmers for a different reason. Because those smiles should be mine.

I don’t deserve them. I’ve done fuck-all in my life to earn a woman like her. But I don’t care. I’m a greedy bastard.

My fingers flex around the steering wheel, indecision warring inside me.

Leave? Or storm into her shop?

Storm into her shop and… what? Demand she smile only at me? Demand she date me?

Maddie leans across one of the larger tables to collect a discarded newspaper, some of her unruly curls falling across her eyes.

She reaches up to brush them back and I’m hit with a memory. Something she said when we were walking to my car that night. She was tugging on her hair, talking about how she’d straightened it for our date, but that she wouldn’t bother next time.

Next time as in the next date she went on.

I remind myself that it wasn’t our date she’d done her hair for. She did that for a date with Brian.

But again, my conscience doesn’t care.

It doesn’t matter who she intended to meet that night, because she met me.

My shoulders tense.

It’s Friday. Exactly one week since I first laid eyes on her.

Will she go out again tonight? Is Friday night her date night?

The idea makes me want to rage.

She can’t.

Except she can. And she probably will. Because she told me that she wants a date for her friend’s wedding.

Motherfucking shit.

I can’t show up at The Bar again in hopes that she goes to the same place again. Right? That would be… bad?

Maddie walks towards the window, disposing of her handful of garbage.

She’s wearing a simple gray shirt under a dark sweater, but the stretch and pull of the t-shirt highlights her glorious tits. The fabric looks soft and touchable and it’s tight across her belly, making me want to bury my face in her body. Any part. I don’t even care. I’d take a shoulder blade to the nose if it means I’m close enough to be absorbed in her scent again.

I’m about to tear my eyes away, when – with her now free hands – she pushes her sleeves up her arms.

My eyes narrow.

Is that…?

She turns and walks away from me, heading towards the end of the counter, and as her whole form comes into view I see what she’s wearing. Including the familiar black hoodie hanging down to her knees.

A smile pulls across my own lips as my cock swells with caveman satisfaction. This one choice has sealed her fate.

Oh Maddie, you shouldn’t have worn my sweatshirt.

There are consequences for your actions, Baby Doll. And you’re about to find out what happens to naughty girls who misbehave.