Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Brynn

“Brynn, your hottie is at table four.”

I lift a brow as I tie my apron. “He’s not my hottie.”

“Aha! But you do know exactly who I’m talking about.” Tracy smirks as she leans into the breakroom where I’ve been for my mandatory ten-minute break. “I brought him his usual. You should check on him, though.”

I try not to react to Tracy, but inside, there’s a flutter because the truth is Asher Bennett is the hottest man I’ve ever set eyes on. And as ridiculous as it is, I like to pretend he comes in at this time of the morning to get his coffee and croissant because he has a thing for me.

It’s absurd, of course. The man doesn’t know me and probably has no idea that he always sits in my section at The Grind. How could he know my schedule?

I flip my statistics book closed and stuff it into my satchel before heading out to the front of the coffee shop. I have a test later today, and I’m feeling a bit nervous about it. Working late nights at Edge and early mornings at The Grind is kicking my butt. I don’t do them back-to-back, but my sleep schedule is a mess.

Taking a deep breath, I smooth down my apron and step out front. Sure enough, there he is. Asher Bennett. One of Seattle’s most eligible bachelors. He’s thirty-six, owns an investment firm, and probably gets up to work out at four in the morning.

I know a lot about him because in the spare time I do not have, I’ve looked him up. There are plenty of articles about him. I’m sure most of them are trashy lies, but the man is rarely seen with a woman. I know. I’ve looked. I’m surprised there hasn’t been a tabloid article speculating about why he comes in to get his coffee at The Grind.

I know something else interesting about Asher Bennett that’s not in the tabloids. He’s a member of Edge. I’ve seen him there a few times. He has no idea I also work there. Hell, I doubt he knows I work here . Why would he?

I’ve seen his driver pull up and drop Mr. Bennett off at the nightclub a few times. Where he goes after that, I have no idea. I’ve never seen him inside the club. It shocks me that he comes there at all.

Edge is a super upscale club in the heart of Seattle, but it doesn’t seem like Mr. Bennett’s style. Loud music. Crowded dance floor. Drunk rich kids. Not his scene. And yet…

I make my way through the tables, checking to see if any of the patrons need a refill, trying not to seem overly eager to get to Mr. Bennett. Finally, I’m in his presence, inches separating us. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

I never use his name. I try to pretend I don’t know it.

He smiles at me, and my heart starts thumping like it always does when he looks me in the eye. The man may be filthy rich, but he isn’t an asshole. He’s polite to the little people. I’m one of them.

“I’m fine, Brynn, thank you. I thought maybe you weren’t working today when I didn’t see you.”

My breath hitches. For one, he’s never used my name. It’s on my nametag, but he hasn’t said it before. For two, I can’t believe he’s ever noticed me before, especially enough to realize I was not here when he entered.

I swallow, tongue-tied. “I was, uh, on my break.”

“Ah, I see. Well, I won’t keep you. Thank you for checking on me. You’re the most courteous waitress I’ve ever met.”

I’m taken aback. I mean, I like to think I’m a kind person and conscientious about my work, but his praise is shocking. “Thank you, sir.” My face heats, which is unfortunate because, with my damn pale skin, he can’t miss my pink cheeks.

He gives me another warm smile and says nothing.

I use a napkin to wipe imaginary crumbs off the corner of his table into my hand just to give myself something to do. “Have a nice day,” I say, all chipper, before turning around.

Holy shit. Asher Bennett knows my name . I’m sure I’m being dramatic, but I’m kind of about to swoon.

Tracy smirks at me again as I pass her. “Not your hottie, huh?”

I say nothing and keep moving as nonchalantly as possible.

Damon, one of the other college students who works behind the counter, waves toward me. “I’ve just sent a couple to table three, Brynn. I’ll have their order ready in a minute. ”

“Perfect. I’ll pick it up.” As soon as I stop shaking .

I’m grateful to have landed this job at The Grind. It’s a high-end coffee shop that competes with two major chains in the area. Risky for Seattle, but the owners have created a unique experience, and the customers are mostly regulars who work in the area and appreciate the level of service they get here.

I work at The Grind twenty hours a week, six to ten, Monday through Friday. It’s a steady income that helps pay my tuition. It’s not enough, though, so I also work at Edge on Friday and Saturday. Fridays are very long days for me. Sundays have been my only free day of the week for a while.

Every ten seconds, I have to force myself not to glance at Mr. Bennett, but when I finally look, I’m disappointed to see he has left. He is one of the highlights of my week—and the fodder for my overactive imagination on the rare nights I’m not too exhausted to put my favorite vibrator to work.

Luckily, the morning flies by. At ten, I hang up my apron, grab my satchel, and hurry out the door. The Grind is close enough to campus that I can walk, but I don’t have time to waste. My first class is at ten-thirty on Monday.

I rush out the door, shake Asher Bennett from my thoughts, and head for my statistics class.