Compromising Kessen (Page 8)

Compromising Kessen (The Vandenbrook #1)(8)
Author: Rachel Van Dyken

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said breathlessly, fitting the part of stupid blonde with no goals in life.

He chuckled to himself all the way to the store, which wasn’t all that far away. They were inside within minutes. Duncan dragged her to the counter for her order, while simultaneously introducing her as the daughter of Lord Newberry.

His announcement was followed by dead silence, including from the customers. Upon looking around, she also noticed a painfully large number of them had their mouths gaping open.

“This is fun,” she said sarcastically to Duncan. He laughed and hit her on the back like they were old friends.

Duncan didn’t seem to care if she was uncomfortable. Instead he cleared his throat. “Christian wouldn’t happen to be, um, working today, would he?”

The girl at the till gave him an odd look, then shrugged her shoulders and called for Christian. A tall man dressed in designer jeans and a black blazer approached. Kessen nearly choked on her gum when she looked into his icy blue eyes.

His penetrating gaze took her in, appearing to assess her in an instant, in all her American glory. His demeanor immediately changed, and he appeared as though he wanted to kill her, and she had no idea why. After all, she was a paying customer, wasn’t she?

She looked for Duncan, but he had walked away. Where was the little traitor?

“May I help you?” the man named Christian asked. He had unruly chestnut hair, which went past his ears in an unprofessional way. He more than likely needed the job to stay in the boy band that wasn’t taking off like he had hoped. She smiled at her private joke, and then winced when she looked into his face.

He lifted his eyebrow as if to say, “Are you as stupid as you look?”

She swallowed and looked at the menu, which had never happened before in her life. Having been raised in the company, she had it memorized. For crying out loud, she helped design it. Yet the way Christian was looking at her made it difficult to even remember her name.

From a marketing standpoint, his face was perfect for the company posters. Her mother would have loved watching Kessen in this uncomfortable situation, considering she was normally so sure of herself. The wistful memory jolted Kessen out of her confused fog.

“I’ll have a large coffee with cream.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course you will.”

“Excuse me?” she asked a little loudly, putting her hands on her hips.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you need to be excused for something?” he snapped. His face contorted with a mix of humor and irritation.

Her mouth dropped open. “Why are you being so rude?” This time she tried to whisper so people wouldn’t stare.

“I wasn’t. I merely stated it was normal for someone like you to order coffee rather than tea. You’ve probably never even had tea before. It comes from a leaf, by the way.”

Sarcastic laughter bubbled out of her. “Wow, your intelligence is intimidating. Thanks for the botany lesson. And you’re right, I don’t like tea. I hate tea.”

She leveled her eyes with his, as she confidently stood her ground. She refused to back down just because the man in front of her had issues with Americans and apparently all things coffee.

He looked like she had just slapped him. “How dare you come in here and say you hate tea! Do you even know what this company stands for?”

“Stuffy old British people who think tea solves everything?” She put her finger to her head to show deep thought. “Am I close?”

“I hate Americans,” he muttered under his breath.

“Well, I hate England!” she said, albeit a little too loudly. She winced when she looked at their audience—most of them looking at her as if she had just burned their beloved flag. Oh, well. Might as well seal the deal. “And I’m sorry,” she said. “But tea doesn’t solve anything! It’s not going to cure cancer, and the world has progressed to more than just one type of drink … yes, there is a thing called water, and there’s soda, and juice, and heaven forbid, coffee. Broaden your horizons, pop star.”

The barista’s eyes looked as if they were going to bug out of her face. If possible, steam would have been billowing out of Christian’s ears. He leaned inches in front of her face. Kessen’s breathing became labored, but not out of attraction. If they were both men, punches would have already been thrown.

Just then, Duncan came out of hiding and sauntered behind the counter, slapping Christian on the back.

“Christian, meet Lord Newberry’s daughter, Kessen. Kessen, meet your new business partner, Christian—” He looked like he was going to say Christian’s last name, then appeared to change his mind as he looked toward her. “Just Christian.”

You could have heard a pin drop in that shop. Kessen prayed the earth would swallow her up; she even closed her eyes to prepare for it, but was sadly disappointed when nothing happened. Instead she held out a shaky hand to Christian and offered a sweet, searing smile.

“Wow, nice dental plan. Hey, are your teeth real?” Duncan asked as Christian maneuvered everyone out of earshot from the rest of the customers.

Kessen smiled, thinking he was kidding, but he looked as serious as could be.

“You’re joking right?” she pleaded. “Who asks someone if their teeth are real? That’s like asking a woman if her b—”She stopped short and reddened. Christian let out a bark of laughter.

“What was that, love?” His deep laugh openly mocked her.

“I want my coffee.” She pulled off her sunglasses and crossed her arms.

Christian gazed at her briefly, and then turned to grab the coffee abruptly, breaking all eye contact.

****

It was so much worse than he could have possibly imagined. Bright green eyes searched his when she pulled off her sunglasses. Pictures had not done the girl justice whatsoever. Long platinum blonde hair gave her the stereotypical look of an American heiress, but those eyes. Her eyes were brilliant. If only he could get her to keep her mouth shut, lest he become entangled in another argument in front of customers. What in the blazes was wrong with him? How unprofessional could a person get? Especially one raised to be a duke! Luck had not been on his side this week. He could only hope his father wouldn’t catch wind of the Marquess getting into it with a beautiful blonde customer at one of the local stores.

Christian put the lid on her coffee and handed it to her. She appeared to be about twenty-five, though he couldn’t really tell. She certainly had enough spirit to set the room on fire. He struggled to regain his composure.