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Chapter 5

“Trust me, I dumped on you and still feel guilty about it. Giving you a little coffee every day isn’t going to absolve me. I gave you up for a soccer asshole and regret it to the hilt.”

I still have visions of the sexy soccer player who took him away from me. Rudy was French to the core, a pretty boy with the biggest dong between his legs.

“Sebastian?” a familiar voice over my right shoulder awakens me from my Rudy-induced flashback.

I spin around and take in the beautiful frame of Jory Sole. A quick head-to-toe shot of him details a wool sweater, khakis, Tom’s shoes, and a bomber jacket. I surface from his dapper look and say, “You drink coffee?”

He blushes, which is the cutest thing in the world, and nods his head. “I know I shouldn’t, but I love it. What can I say?”

“That makes two of us.”