One Christmas, Two Keys

Despicable

•Sloane Rivers•

It was the shortest night I’d had in a while.

The unusual brightness streaming through the window got me up. Apparently, I’d forgotten to pull down the curtains before going back to bed.

I’d stayed in the balcony until the clouds darkened and just stood there watching the city—lights sparkling, native music humming through the air. It had been ethereal.

I’d also noticed the sitting room was linked to the balcony which was… surprising. How’d they even do that? Sure, the balcony was big, but linking two rooms?

I got off the bed, stretching my arms above my head. I had no idea why I was up this early, but I was definitely not the type to spend my day in bed—unproductive until the retreat began.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and opened my notes, sketching out my schedule:

 Breakfast — 9–9:30am

• Long ass bath — 9:40–10:15am

• Starbucks — 10:45am

I stared at the three things I’d listed before my brain went blank. What else was there to do? As moody as I’d been about this vacation, I hadn’t thought about the downsides—like having nothing to do.

I swung my legs off the bed and stood. Well, there would always be something to do. Places to go. People to talk to.

I rang for room service, and it took less than five minutes before they arrived. After eating, I took a bath, dressed casually, and left the resort.

It was windier and colder than yesterday, and I was glad I’d worn my coat and gloves. I tucked my hands into my pockets as I searched for a local coffee shop since Starbucks clearly wasn’t on this side of town.

I was eventually directed to one. Inside, quite a number of people were seated around small tables, either watching the news or playing chess or random stuff.

It was warm inside. Definitely better than outside.

Walking toward the counter, I leaned slightly as the man next to me placed his order. While I tried concentrating on the TV, I couldn’t deny he smelled nice. At least people knew how to use deodorant these days.

He grabbed whatever he was given and left. I turned to the woman behind the counter.

“Hi. Can I get an espresso? No milk, two cubes of sugar,” I said. She mumbled something under her breath.

“I’ll be back,” she said before sauntering off. I pursed my lips and turned back to the TV.

She was taking quite a while, and a small line had already formed.

A man walked into the shop and every head turned. Both hands tucked in his pockets, he exuded a kind of masculinity that commanded attention.

“I’m sorry for the delay. What is it you asked for?” the woman asked, and I whipped around, fingers tapping the counter.

“Espresso. No milk, two—”

“Can I get a large hot mocha, extra chocolate, light whipped-cream topping, and a sprinkle of cinnamon?” a low, smooth baritone came from behind me.

I blinked. The hell?

“I’ll tip you. Fifty or a hundred, depends on how fast I get it,” he added.

I turned around. The small queue behind me shifted and murmured.

It was the man who’d just come in.

Chestnut-brown hair in slightly tousled waves, steel-gray eyes sharp enough to hold a stare—mine included—high cheekbones, full lips. Good looks clearly had nothing to do with manners.

“Excuse me. I’ve been here before you, and so have all these people. You can’t just bribe your way in,” I said. His eyes dropped to me.

I c****d my head. He rubbed his stubble, flicking the hairs between his fingers. I wasn’t petty enough not to admit he was a pretty specimen.

“Did I speak to you?” he asked, sounding as arrogant as he looked. I reared back slightly.

“You don’t have to. There’s a queue. You should join it too.”

He looked away from me and turned to the woman. I did too.

“She can speak for herself.”

The room fell silent. All eyes went to the woman. She licked her lips and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

She looked at me apologetically, and disappointment curled in my stomach as annoyance stirred.

“I’m sorry, miss. I really need that tip,” she said softly, then glanced at him.

“I’ll get your order right away, sir.” She walked off.

The murmuring behind me rose. I huffed. Really?

I glared at the man.

“Congrats. You’ve just proved to be a very despicable person. Be happy—it’s a title not easy to achieve these days.”

His lips curved slightly. I snarled at him before tucking my hands into my coat pockets and storming out. Great. I’d wasted over thirty minutes.

Good gracious. I couldn’t even explain how pissed I was. Always the rich finding ways to be mean to people lower than them.

If I had that kind of money to spare, maybe I’d have bid for my espresso too.

After roaming around for directions, I learned that was the only local coffee shop around. f**k me.

I couldn’t go without my espresso—at least not in the mornings. I needed it.

I walked back and lingered outside, sheer embarrassment pinning me in place. I didn’t want to walk in and find that dickhead still there.

The door opened and an older woman—one from the queue—stepped out, sipping her drink. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, and she approached. I straightened my expression.

“Hi there. Thank you for standing up for us in there. It’s rare to see a young woman stand up to a man, especially around here.”

I smiled warmly.

“I’m glad you got what you needed.”

“Yeah, about that.” She lowered her voice with a glint in her eyes.

“He paid for all of us. And he waited to be the last person as soon as you left.”

I raised a brow.

She straightened. “Well, maybe he’s not as despicable as you said.” She shrugged.

I resisted the urge to scoff. Twenty bucks and their minds were changed?

“Have a good day, ma’am,” I said, and she took the cue to leave.

I stared at the entrance for a long moment before walking in. I needed to give that lady a piece of my mind. Life was tough for all of us—the least she could do was give us a cup of coffee.

There were still people watching the TV and playing chess, not even noticing me. I walked toward the counter but slowed when I saw he was still there.

He glanced at me over his shoulder, eyes appraising.

“Guess who’s back,” he murmured.

I ignored him and stared at the woman. Her smile vanished the second she saw me.

“Sei nicht gemein zu anderen Frauen nur wegen eines Mannes,” I bit out in German. Her expression fell.

“Verzeihung,” she muttered. He hummed.

“I don’t think she was being mean to you. She just chose herself,” he said. I shot him a look, surprised he understood me. He looked American to the bones—attitude, looks, everything.

He turned to the woman. “Give her whatever she wants. I’ll pay,” he mumbled. And it sounded insulting.

“I don’t need you to pay for anything,” I said through gritted teeth. I turned to the woman. “Espresso. No milk, two sugars.”

She hurried off. I looked away. Only Marcus had grated my nerves this much—yet somehow, I’d found a new contender on a trip I didn’t even want to come for.

“I’m Ethan, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Can’t say the same.”

He chuckled and leaned on the counter, staring at me.

“Are you always this easily aggravated?”

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped talking to me,” I muttered. He hummed and shook his head slightly.

“So much attitude from someone pretty. I’m surprised.”

Thankfully, the woman returned with my order. I grabbed it and handed her a twenty.

I shot Ethan a weary look before glancing at her.

“Keep the change.”

Then I turned and walked toward the door.

“I hope I see you again,” he called out.

I flipped him off as I pushed the door open.

“I hope not. Have a terrible day.”

I caught a smile on his face before the door shut.

Opening my cup, I took a long sip, almost moaning in relief as the liquid slid down my throat.

The man was annoying and I hoped to God I wouldn’t see him again.