Loving Romeo by Laura Pavlov

I walked next door and tugged the door open, seeing that Demi was behind the counter. The place was empty, as it would be closing up in about fifteen minutes. She looked up, and her green gaze locked with mine. She had a little spatter of freckles across her nose, brown hair cut just past her shoulders, and plump lips. She was fucking gorgeous.
Even if she is a Crawford.
She didn’t greet me this time. Instead, she just raised a brow, as if she were waiting for me to act like a dick.
I cleared my throat as I stepped up to the counter. “Can I get two pumpkin chai lattes to go?”
She studied me before ringing up the order. “Eleven dollars even.”
I set the cash in her hand this time and not on the counter. It had been an asshole move.
She dropped the money into the register and moved to make the drinks. I scrubbed a hand down the back of my neck because I knew she hated me, and she had every right to be giving me the silent treatment.
I actually preferred it, as making small talk with a Crawford was never a good idea.
“Can I ask you what’s in the drink?”
“Do you think I’m going to poison you, Romeo?” Her tone was dry, and I kind of liked that she could dish out the attitude.
“I doubt it. I don’t think you’d do well in prison, looking like that,” I said, and I wanted to kick myself for the lame comeback. Even if it was true.
“Obviously, you’re unaware that orange is my favorite color.” She smirked, and it was cute as hell. I pushed the thought away.
“No one’s favorite color is orange.” I leaned over the counter when she turned around to fill the cups with hot water, and my eyes moved down her lean body and soft curves. Her jeans covered her tight little ass perfectly.
Snap the fuck out of it, dickhead.
It had been a while since I’d been laid, and clearly, I needed to find myself a woman. Maybe tonight at the bar I’d make that happen.
She turned around, lips pursed. “Shocker. You’re wrong. My favorite color is orange. Maybe you shouldn’t jump to conclusions about everything.”
It was a dig. I’m sure she knew that I was being a prick because of who her family was. She probably didn’t know the half of it. The real reason.
I didn’t hate them because they were rich. I hated them because they were liars and entitled pricks.
It didn’t mean that she was—but she was still one of them.
“All right. Your favorite color is orange. I got it. Can you tell me what you put in that drink? My mom is nagging me to find out.”
She turned around and set the cups down on the counter in front of me. Her lips turned up in the corners, and her smile reached her eyes. “You want me to tell you all my secrets when you were a complete jerk the last time you came in here?”
“I do.”
“Well, at least you aren’t denying it.”
“I don’t lie.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Neither do I. But I also don’t appreciate someone being an asshole to me for no reason. You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.”
“Yet you came back a second time.” She crossed her arms over her chest, which pushed her tits up the slightest bit. I could make them out perfectly in her white fitted turtleneck, which made it difficult not to stare. They weren’t big, but they were perky and proportioned to her petite frame. Her nipples poked against the fabric, and I forced my eyes back up to meet her gaze.
My mouth watered at the thought of using my tongue to flick her hard peaks, and I wondered what her pretty pink nipples would taste like.
For fuck’s sake. I’m losing my mind.
This girl’s family nearly ruined my life. And it sure as hell caused a lot of heartache for my family.
“I came back a second time because my mother and my grandmother won’t stop texting me about it.”
“I’ll tell you what… Next time you come in here, how about you lose the attitude, and I’ll be happy to tell you the secret ingredient in my tea. Or you can have your mama call me here, and I’ll tell her directly.”
“You’re serious?”
“Do I look like a joker to you?” She raised a brow, and her tongue poked against her cheek as she stared at me.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
She pinched the tips of her thumb and pointer finger together and slowly ran them along her mouth, acting as if she were zipping her mouth closed.
Her lips were pursed, pink, and plump, and I wondered how they’d look wrapped around my cock.
Hey, I was a horny dude. Apparently, I could dislike someone and still be attracted to them.
I quickly grabbed the two cups off the counter and glared at her.
I was leaving here without the secret ingredient, and now I had a raging boner.
I definitely hated Demi Crawford a little more than I did when I first walked in here a few minutes ago.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said, turning toward the door.
“That’s not the attitude that’s going to get the recipe out of me. You better try again next time, Mr. Knight.”
“Don’t count on it,” I grunted as I pushed the door open with my back and stepped outside.
Now, I was in a foul mood.
My mother would have to call to get the recipe because I was not coming back anytime soon.