𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄- 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

𝐓𝐖𝐎

"𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐈𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆," the barista informed her. Alana sighed and reached for her purse. "Can you run it one more time?" She pleaded, rummaging through her change purse. The younger girl rolled her eyes, and shook her head once more as Alana pulled out a mountain of change that had the barista groaning quietly. She narrowed her eyes at the girl, then paused when someone cleared their throat behind her.

"It's on me," the voice assured her. She glanced over her shoulder to see a man with a dashing smirk on his face as he extended his arm out and paid for her coffee. It only took Alana a second to examine him, and while she could admit he was rather good looking, she'd seen about a hundred guys exactly like him. Guys like him never just bought girls like Alana a cup of coffee with no strings attached. She'd learned at a young age that nothing ever came for free. There was always some kind of catch, or some kind of price to pay in the end. No one did things simply out of the kindness in their heart. At least not in her experience.

"I had it," Alana assured him sweetly, trying not to give him the time of day. Men were a disappointment, that was a fact. "Sure you did," he snorted, flashing a grin at her again like he thought it would make her melt at his feet. Had these tricks worked on all the women he'd been with? "Consider it a favour to me, and to the rest of the people in the line you were holding up," he explained, but Alana still couldn't shake her reluctance.

"Funny," she drawled. "But I know better than to let a strange man pay for my coffee. Some would consider it to be impolite."

"I get the feeling you don't care about what some would consider polite or impolite," he replied with a chuckle. Alana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. His attempt at flattery was cute, but he was so barking up the wrong tree here. From the looks of it, he was used to having women fall at his feet without any effort on his end. Most of them probably found him charming. Alana did not. "And you know me so well?" Alana questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Not yet, but I'd like to," he grinned. "I'm Derek, and you are?" The man- Derek, trailed off, waiting for her response. "Not interested," Alana replied with a grin. She heard a quiet chuckle, and only then did she notice that Derek wasn't alone. Standing directly behind him was a man, at least a few years younger, sipping a cup of coffee. The fact that Alana hadn't noticed him at all told her enough about how these interactions usually went. Derek at the forefront, and his quiet friend left to watch in the background.

"You are dangerous to a man's ego," he stated, feigning an injury, but Alana wasn't phased by him. "But I can tell where I'm not wanted. You're welcome for the coffee," Derek said with a wink, throwing another grin over his shoulder, like he thought it would change anything. Perhaps he thought Alana was playing hard to get, and he couldn't actually fathom that she didn't want him whatsoever.

"I never said thank you," she reminded him, and the last thing she heard was him chuckle again before he went out through those glass doors and into a dark-coloured SUV parked out front. It took Alana a moment to realize that his friend was still standing here, not even trying to hide the fact that he was staring. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him to say something. Maybe he'd say something worthwhile.

"I apologize about my friend," he started. Alana knew he was genuine, but she immediately could tell that something about him was different than the other one. "But I will admit, it was rather entertaining to watch. It's not often that I see a woman turn him down."

"I get the feeling he's not used to not getting his way," Alana mused. The stranger laughed quietly, and she took a moment to study him for a moment. Really study him. He was certainly handsome, but not in a gruff way. His hair was messy, but just messy enough so it looked sexy rather than looking like he'd just rolled out of bed this morning. His clothes were pristine, not a single wrinkle in sight on his shirt, and his tie was perfectly straight. Her guess was that he must have had some sort of money, or at least a job where he was required to look like he did.