Read Online Ready for You by Celia Juliano - Free Book Online

least that’s what she claimed. But he didn’t want to argue with her. He watched the road while he waited at a red light. Grey clouds filled the sky.
     
    “What kind of coffee do you want?” he asked as he pulled into the parking lot of the Peets on the corner. He glanced at her when he turned off the engine. She still stared at him, a little crease between her angry, hurt eyes. “I assume you don’t want to come in with me.”
     
    She shook her head and faced the coffee house, as if looking at it would help her decide. “A small mocha, please.” She scooted up and fished in her pocket. He tightened his hold on the door handle, wishing his hand could join hers. “Here,” she said, handing him some folded ones.
     
    He shook his head. “I’ll get it. You made me biscotti. It’s the least I can do.”
     
    She shrugged and thanked him, folding the bills in her hands.
     
    “Be right back,” he said.
     
    Usually he waited casually in line, glancing around at the other people, the cute girl behind the counter, or just enjoying the rich coffee smells, but now he shifted and kept an eye on the door, absently placing his order. When he jogged out to his truck, his smile returned. She still sat, watching him. Rain pattered on his head but he shook it off and opened his door, handing Chiara the tray of coffees. He jumped in.
     
    “I didn’t expect rain today,” she said.
     
    “Don’t like the unexpected?” he said.
     
    “I’m not prepared, that’s all.”
     
    “I thought you liked getting wet.” He grinned at her as he pulled out. The car approaching honked. Keep your mind in the game.
     
    He turned on the windshield wipers, which squeaked before keeping a steady rhythm with the increasingly heavy rainfall.
     
    “I used to like to run in the rain when I was a girl.” Her voice was quiet, maybe a little sad.
     
    “And play in the mud? Mud never stopped me from playing ball.”
     
    “A dirty boy? We would’ve made a pair.”
     
    He stopped the truck in front of the jobsite and took two coffees out of the tray. “Be right back,” he said.
     
    His hair dripped and his shirt was damp when he jumped back into the truck.
     
    “I have towels at my house if you want to dry off,” she said. She twisted her hands together. Her ringless hands.
     
    “I’ve got it.” He stretched his arm and found a towel on the backseat. “How come you don’t wear a wedding ring?” He rubbed his hair, which would no doubt stick out at odd angles-- he was due for a haircut.
     
    “It doesn’t fit anymore. I never got it resized.”
     
    He grinned at her. She reached out and hovered her hand near his temple, as if she feared getting scalded. Then she ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it. Her touch at once set him on fire and made him feel warm and heavy as if he’d been sitting in front of a crackling blaze. He held her hand.
     
    “Where have you been all my life?” he said. Christ, he’d never used that tired old line. But with her it wasn’t. He grabbed his coffee and gulped some down.
     
    “A few miles away.” Her finger traced his knuckles.
     
    “Maybe I should’ve been more friendly with your brother Santo.”
     
    “Wouldn’t have helped. Santo and I don’t get along very well.”
     
    “We should form a club.”
     
    “The dirrty club?”   She sipped her mocha.
     
    He chuckled. The way her tongue rolled over that extended r sound…he licked his lips. “Sounds good. Share your dirty secrets?”
     
    “I have a thing for Chevy trucks. Yours is particularly powerful. The longer length must enhance the package.”
     
    He laughed. She could tease. “It serves me well. Let me guess, your first boyfriend had a Chevy.”
     
    She studied him, a sly grin eased out the corners of her full lips. “You’re smarter than you look.”
     
    “Ouch. Hitting too close to home?”
     
    “No comment.” She put both hands around her cup and rubbed them along the surface.
     
    “I