Page 1 of Trust Again

Chapter 1

Such a stupid idea. As if I’d actually get any writing done in a coffee shop.

Nope.

I glance up to see a guy standing in front of me, staring with raised eyebrows, as if he was expecting an answer. What—was I some sort of lip reader? There’s no way I could’ve heard him, and that should’ve been obvious. My headphones are as big as doughnuts and weigh about ten pounds: they were expensive, and they block out all kinds of noise. Great for concentrating on my work. Even better for avoiding unwanted conversation.

He was cute, no question about that. He had reddish hair and warm, brown eyes. Wearing jeans and a tight shirt that hugged his shoulders—not bad, not bad. So why was I feeling queasy?

Slowly, I lifted the headphone cup from my right ear.

“Did you say something?”

The guy quirked a smile. “Yeah. I said you’re here on Fridays a lot. I’ve noticed you.”

True. Even though it wasn’t exactly by choice. I’d rather spend Friday afternoons in my dorm at Woodshill University. But that wasn’t possible, since I shared a room with a nymphomaniac.

“Yeah. The coffee’s good here,” I mumbled.

He tilted his head and smiled again. “You don’t even drink coffee. You usually get hot chocolate. But it’s getting warmer out. Wonder what you’ll pick in the spring.”

Wow, stalker? My palms were turning clammy, and I swallowed hard. This guy was getting scary. How long had he been watching me? Oh God, could he have seen what I was working on?

“Inquiring minds want to know,” he said, dropping his voice an octave.

Seriously? He was being playful, trying to pick me up, with his deep voice and bedroom eyes. With any other girl it might have worked. But not me. I’d been avoiding men like the plague for more than a year now.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I began, shoving my bangs to the side.

“Come on,” he answered, grabbing a chair from another table and setting it next to mine. Straddling the seat, he rested his arms on the back. “I’m a good listener.”

What on Earth made him think I wanted to talk? My eyes flicked toward my laptop. The font size was extra small and the brightness set low, so no one but me could read it. Still, I was itching to shut the screen. What I’d written was not for anyone to read—at least, not yet.

And it was definitely not for the eyes of this unnerving stranger.

“What are you working on?” the guy asked, nodding his head at my laptop.

Trying to look casual, I closed the screen, picked up my bag from the floor and slid Watson inside. That was the name I’d given this clunker of a laptop: It had a huge screen and weighed a ton. It was practically vintage.

The guy touched my arm gently. “Hey, I didn’t mean to scare you off. I’m outta here,” he stood up, now sounding almost shy. “You just looked so alone over here. And I thought I’d…” He gave an awkward shrug.

Okay, he was starting to seem a little less stalker and a little more cute. But still. I couldn’t.

“You seem nice—” Flustered, I wondered if he’d already told me his name.

“Cooper,” he said, as if reading my mind.

“Cooper,” I repeated with a smile. “You seem cool, but I have to go. I can’t concentrate right now.”

“We could try another time, when you don’t have so much to do,” Cooper ventured.

I suppressed a sigh and stood. “I’m not interested. Sorry.”

Cooper’s eyes widened a bit. “Oh! I get it.” He nodded. “Not into guys, huh?”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Nothing to be ashamed of.”