Chapter 2

The next day, black coffee from a mug sent swirls of steam upwards as I sat in a booth. Beyond a wide pane of dust-streaked glass, traffic on a highway overpass raced past the diner. Yes, my pulse was thundering. Wonderful plan or not, Mrs. Goodman was a variable. One that could’ve also gambled. Perhaps she wouldn’t believe I’d prepared the emails. Maybe her husband said to call the police. Was a SWAT team moving in even as I nursed my second cup? A second one because I’d been there early just to be sure. Again, part of my strategy.

Nope, nothing out-of-the-ordinary. In the midst of the late morning rush, the place was bustling. Among an earlier wave of long-distance drivers, bleary-eyed from overnight driving, I had sauntered inside. With a shrug, I lowered the mug right as a server came by to refill it. After a grin at the curvaceous middle-aged brunette, I flicked my gaze to motion at the entrance.

In a bulky gray sweatshirt emblazoned with a roaring bear—some university’s mascot—Mrs. Goodman stormed through the doors. And, of course, she’d selected her wardrobe with care. But no way would a bear picture intimidate me, and I swallowed a chuckle. Add worn denim jeans, snow-white Skechers, and hair in a high, tight ponytail. Yep, she was in low-key “Karen” mode. Not unexpected at all.

After a swift scan, she spotted me. With shiny hair still flailing from the doorway breeze, she said something curt to the hostess before marching towards me. Face already reddening, she stomped closer with fists balled. Oh yeah, she’d spent the night planning her counterattack. Just as I’d foreseen. With every trudge nearer, it became more difficult to hide my grin.

Once the frowning teacher halted beside the booth, my heart iced over. Despite the show, I’d caught the tremors in her arms. She understood. That moment of clarity flicked behind her narrowed gaze. No, she’d never strike fear into me. Instead, a chill spread across my body. Just as her lips parted, I snapped my palm upwards.

“Sit. Down. Mrs. Goodman” That ice? It had flowed into my tone like a glacier cutting through chilled stone.

How those eyes blazed. Emerald flames. To no effect. Glossy crimson lips pursed, she thumped to the red vinyl bench opposite me. While taking another sip of the topped-off coffee, I motioned for the waitress.

“Why are you—” she started, but at the shapely server’s arrival, I again lifted my hand.

After a smile for me, she looked at Mrs. Goodman. “What’ll you have, sweetie?”

“Uh, nothing,” the crimson-cheeked blonde replied while flicking her eyes between the waitress and me.

“Aww, come on. Celebrate.” When I beamed a smile at the statuesque server, I got a wide grin in return. No mean feat during the crazy morning service. “She’ll have French toast. Side of scram. Hmm, sausage, I think.” I glanced at my teacher and chuckled. “Oh, yeah, she definitely enjoys a nice, thick sausage. And coffee. Um, she also loves cream.”

While the server jotted the order onto a notepad, my teacher stared daggers at me. The images swirling behind that beet-red visage? Same ones inside my mind. Yep, saliva-coated cock-sausage and all that beer-tinged man-cream she’d tried her darndest to gulp.

Once the waitress departed, I gestured for her to continue. Except, nonplussed, she only opened and closed her trembling lips. Since I remained silent, swirling the coffee in my mug, she fidgeted. Glossy, neutral-toned fingernails toyed with the silverware rolled in a tight, white paper napkin. At last, she leaned closer, but her face had lost much of its color.

“Why are you doing this, Mr. Port—. Uh, Damon?” She gave me the quickest of scans. “A boy as handsome as you ... God, you could have any girl. They’re always talking about you. So why—”

“Simple.” After a long sip of warm java while gazing deep into those ever-shinier green pools, I smiled. “Because I want you, Mrs. Goodman.”

Along with getting her jaw to drop, my flat tone sent the tiniest tremor through her petite frame. At the flicker of fear behind those blinking eyes, my cock surged. With a quick spin of her head, she scanned the nearby tables before trying to lean even closer. But the tabletop blocked her.

“I’m married, Damon.” Her voice was a hoarse, forceful whisper. “I’ve got two kids. This isn’t—”

At the approach of the buxom server, I once more held up my hand. Lips pursed, she fell silent.

“Here you go, hon.” The waitress slid a plate onto the surface before Mrs. Goodman. After placing a mug next to it, she flashed me her finest smile. “Refill again, baby.”

“Yes, please. Thank you, Ruby.” Her eyes flashed when I used her name. But, I mean, it was emblazoned on the plastic golden-brown nametag atop that impressive chest. “You make it yourself?”

“Do you like it?” She caught my lingering glance. As an eyebrow arched, she eased her straining blouse outwards. Oh, she was a bit of a showoff.

“Yes,” I replied with a chuckle.

“Then, yes, sweetie.” She winked at me. “I made it with my own two hands.”

As she turned away, I saluted her with the mug. Well, saluted that rack. Despite her brief laugh before moving to another customer, I caught a glimmer in Ruby’s flashing eyes. Yes, she could be fun.

When Mrs. Goodman opened her mouth to continue speaking, I raised my palm once more. Right, need to focus. Back to business, but at my pace, not hers.

“Eat first,” I said while sliding a pair of creamers towards her. “Coffee’s damn good.”

“I’m not hungry. How can I eat?” She sniffed. “Damon, come on. This is insane. You can’t really...”

“Fine.” I sighed. “Here’s the deal.”

After shoving a hand into my pocket, I tugged out a large, flat plastic diamond. On the powder blue tag, “S1” was stamped in gold. A bronze key dangled from it. While sliding it across to her, I took a lengthy sip of coffee.

“What’s this?” she muttered.