Frisco
I can’t remember the last time I took a girl for a ride in my Ferrari. It’s not something I did often even before I started dating Libby; I tend to be cautious about how much of my lifestyle I expose to women because it’s always hard to tell which of them are genuinely interested in you, and which are only interested in your paycheck. I suppose that’s another perk to dating my kid brother’s ex-girlfriend. I’ve had plenty of time to get a read on Libby before romance even entered into the equation, and I’m certain she’s not with me because of my money.
The curvy girl’s eyes are wide as she sits in the passenger seat, watching the world whiz past. We’re zooming down the highway to the location of our date, and the wind is whipping her chestnut hair and kissing her already rosy cheeks. It’s hard to keep my eyes on the road when I have such a beautiful girl within arm’s reach.
Okay, so maybe I’ve got it bad for her, but I know that already. None of what I said that first night was a lie because Libby draws me in like a magnet, and if I have my way, I’ll never let her go. I realize that it’s not the most ethical thing to do, especially because she and my brother just broke up, but the heart wants what it wants, and my heart has known what it wants since the first time I laid eyes on her. That’s why I’m putting so much effort into wooing her. In the span of a week, we’ve visited museums, art galleries, and five-star restaurants. I even skipped out on an investors’ meeting to take her to a wine tasting, and I never miss meetings.
Meanwhile, the innocent way she’s looking at me is only increasing my desire.
“So when are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she teases as I pull off the highway and onto a side street.
“It’s a surprise,” I reply, grinning.
“Oh, jeez.” Libby makes a funny face, twisting a curl on her finger. “I think I’ve had enough surprises this week to last a lifetime.”
“Don’t worry,” I assure her, putting my hand on her thigh as we head in the direction of a building I know oh-so-well. “This is a good kind of surprise, I promise.”
“Let’s hope so,” Libby laughs lightly. “Then again, you’ve already spoiled me enough, so maybe we ought to do something terrible just to balance things out.”
“Never,” I fire back easily. “I’m just treating you the way any woman of mine deserves to be treated.”
The buxom brunette falls silent, but I catch her blushing again out of the corner of my eye. Then, we ride the rest of the way in silence, my hand absently rubbing against her thigh, until finally we arrive in the parking lot of The Roastery. It’s an enormous concrete building in the industrial part of town, and there are only a few cars in the parking lot. It’s normally impossible to arrange a private visit, but when you’re one of their biggest clients, they’ll happily make an exception.
“You brought me to a factory?” Libby asks, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You know I was just joking about the doing something terrible, right?”
I growl with amusement. “Aren’t you funny? As a matter of fact, this isn’t just any factory. This is the roastery I source Third Rail’s coffee beans from.”
That gets her attention, and her face lights up as we cross the parking lot and head inside. As soon as we enter the lobby, the rich smell of coffee fills the air, and I can’t help but be a little amused as Libby breathes deeply with satisfaction. “Wow,” she exclaims, looking around like a kid in a candy store. “It’s wonderful.”
“And this place is ours to explore as long as we like,” I tell her, putting a hand on the small of her back as we head past the front desk. I nod at the receptionist and the security guards on the way; I know the Roastery well by now, and pretty much have free rein to come and go as I please. I haven’t really taken advantage of it though, up until today. This is a part of my life that I rarely show to others, where my business and my passions intersect. Something about Libby is different, though. She’s made her mistakes, and is ready to learn from them. That’s what makes her so captivating: the intriguing combination of naïveté mixed with the emotional growth of an innocent, giving girl.
We make our way from room to room, my hand never leaving Libby’s back as I point out the different areas: the sorting and processing room, with its enormous metal sieves, the giant roasting ovens, and the quality control area where the beans are inspected for deformities.
“So you really source all your beans from here?” Libby asks wonderingly as we come to a stop outside the roasting room.
I nod. “Third Rail only sells single-origin, organically-grown coffee. It’s what gives us an edge in the market.”
“So what are these mysterious single origins, may I ask?” she quips in a teasing tone.
“We source our beans from Peru and Indonesia, to name two locations,” I say seriously, “but those aren’t our claim to fame. Our specialty is Kona coffee, from Hawaii.”
“I love Kona,” Libby nods. “It’s really smooth and mild, making it easy to drink first thing in the morning. But I’m really impressed, Frisco. It’s amazing how invested you are in the nitty gritty of the coffee making process.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Are you surprised?”
“A little,” Libby admits, blushing. “I wouldn’t have expected a CEO to be so deep in the trenches, so to speak.”
I nod.
“Any CEO worth his salt has a vested interest in his product,” I reply. “I feel like a man’s passion always comes through when he’s really into something. People can tell when you’re just in it for the paycheck, and when you’re in it because you’re truly passionate about the product.”
Libby looks up at me with that same starry-eyed stare that makes me want to pull her away and make love to her right now. “So what made you decide on coffee?” she asks. “Patrick never really told me the story behind Third Rail.”
I let out a dry snort. “Yeah, and there’s a reason he never did, unfortunately. The truth is, I first got into it right after I got out of rehab.”
“Rehab?” Libby exclaims, her eyes widening. “I never - I - I mean, I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t,” I growl. “I don’t talk about it much.” It’s the truth. Up until now, I made a rule of not being forthcoming with that part of my backstory. Now, it seems like I’m breaking all of my rules when it comes to this woman. “I had a drinking problem,” I explain simply, taking her hand in mine as we continue our stroll at a leisurely pace. “It never spiraled totally out of control, but I was lucky. I could see where I was headed, and it wasn’t good. Succeeding in business can do that to a person. Having all this money, but still being so alone…” I shake my head. “Anyway, I checked myself into rehab to get a handle on it. And I did. I don’t touch alcohol anymore.”
“That’s really brave of you,” Libby says, and her voice is sincere. I don’t feel like she’s just telling me what I want to hear. “I mean, seriously. Admitting that kind of thing and doing something about it takes guts. I admire you, Frisco.”
It’s a simple enough statement, but it warms my heart in a way I never thought possible. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Libby murmurs, while glancing at me through her lashes. “It also makes me feel a little better.” Seeing my questioning look, she bites her lip. I’m sure the gesture isn’t meant to come off as sensual, but it does. “I mean, you’re so… together,” she explains. “Successful. Capable. But it’s a reminder that everyone makes mistakes sometimes, and that I’m not the only one putting my foot in it.”
“Believe me, sweetheart,” I tell her, placing my hands on both her shoulders to look her in the eyes, “half of getting to where you want to be is making mistakes.” She beams up at me, and I snake an arm around her waist as we carry on. “And speaking of which,” I ask, “where do you want to go in life, honey? Patrick raved about your barista skills. Do you see yourself owning your own coffee shop someday?”
“Me? No.” Libby blushes, shaking her head. “I mean, it sounds nice in theory, but I’ve seen how hard Dakota works to run the Blue Bean. Being a small business owner is a full-time job, and I don’t think I want that when-” But she cuts herself off, looking suddenly shy.
“When what?” I prompt.
Libby looks down at the ground, shuffling her feet. “It’s embarrassing,” she admits in a low voice, “especially nowadays. I think what I’m hoping to do is be a full-time mother, if that ever happens. It seems lots of women these days want to be corporate CEOs or high-powered lawyers, but I guess I’m a little different.”
I stop for a moment, just looking at her.
“Yes, but what do you mean, if you become a mother?” I ask. “You’re young, sweetheart. It should be a given if that’s what you want.”
Libby’s shoulders slump, and it’s all I can do not to sweep her into my arms. Shit, I’m in deep, but the funny thing is that I couldn’t care less.
“Well, it’s just that the thing with Patrick has thrown me for a loop,” she says in a low voice. “I mean, I thought I knew him, but then these pictures came out, and he was probably cheating on me for a long time. I had no idea,” she says in a miserable tone.
I nod, slipping my arm about her waist again.
“No one could have guessed,” I growl. “It was totally unexpected.”
She nods, looking down while biting at her lip.
“But the thing is, who would want me now, after what I’ve done?” she says in a quiet tone. “After all, everyone knows that I leaked those photos. I’ve already shown how low I’ll go with this revenge porn thing, so what guy would date me now?” She turns to me, sounding afraid as she adds, “Why would you, Frisco?”
It’s a fair question. I stop, thinking for a moment. “Can you think of anyone who hasn’t made a mistake in their lives?” I ask at last. “Take Patrick, for instance. He’s a good guy, but he cheated on you and as you’ve seen, it’s not the end of the world. He’s still alive and going about his life. Hell, take me.” I gesture at myself. “I went to rehab for a drinking problem, but I turned my life around. Things work out, honey. They always do, and I mean it when I say that you’re still young, Libs. You have plenty of opportunities.”
“I hope you’re right,” she replies in a low voice.
I turn to face her.
“Things are going to be okay, sweetheart,” I say. “Don’t worry. I’m serious.” Those words finally get her to loosen up, and she smiles a bit. The air feels less heavy with the confessions off both of our chests, and I can’t help but drift closer to her in spite of the public setting. I back her up gently until I’m pushing her against one of the concrete walls, my hands cupping her cheeks as I stoop to kiss her with renewed passion. Her arms snake around my neck, and as our hips rest against each other, I can feel a familiar arousal pooling in my pelvis. I let the tip of my tongue graze her lips, which she parts eagerly to allow me to deepen the kiss.
“Frisco,” Libby gasps, finally breaking away from the lip lock. God, I could listen to her whimper like this all day. “We shouldn’t be doing this here! Someone could see us!”
“That’s what makes it so fun,” I argue, and that’s enough to make her melt in my arms. She sighs into my mouth as we kiss again, the sounds of her moans lost in the droning of the factory machines. Before long my hands are beginning to roam her curves, and for those few blissful moments, it doesn’t matter where we are or how we met. We’re lost in each other, and come hell or high water, it’s absolutely perfect.