A Million Tiny Pieces (5 page)

“Mia!”
the barista called as he pushed a plastic cup out onto the counter, tossing a
paper-wrapped straw alongside it.

“Thank
you,” she called out to him, but he’d already moved on to help the next
customer, which happened to be the man in the hoodie.

Not
thinking, Mia unwrapped the straw and stuck it into the cup before bringing it
to her lips. As she turned around to throw the paper in the trash, she practically
ran right into Hot Hoodie Guy.

“Sorry,”
she muttered, stepping around him at the very last second, avoiding a full-body
collision by mere centimeters.

Mia
dodged looking directly at him, thankful the hood covered most of his head
because she hoped it limited his ability to see the evidence of her
embarrassment in her heated cheeks. With her head down, she darted toward one
of the empty chairs in the corner near the windows at the front. That way she
could read her book and watch the people on the street.

And,
more importantly, keep her back to Hot Hoodie Guy.

Placing
her cup on the small table, she opened her paperback and pretended to read what
was on the page. She was actually peering over her shoulder at the hoodie guy,
trying to get a better look at his face. He was talking to the man making the
coffee, leaning on the counter casually as they spoke. The glass partition that
separated the customer side of the counter from where they worked as well as
the hood he had over his head were obscuring her view.

Not
like it really mattered what he looked like anyway. Mia didn’t have time to be
admiring anyone, not even from afar. She had too much to focus on. School was
keeping her plenty busy.

And
on top of that, she didn’t want to date anyone, so it didn’t really make sense
that she should get caught ogling some attractive runner who quite possibly
lived in her building. She had a plan. And it definitely didn’t consist of a
relationship — casual or otherwise — anytime in the near future.

“I
HEAR YA, man,” Phoenix told the guy behind the counter, although hearing him
was about as far as Phoenix got, which was the same as most days he came into
the coffee shop.

The
name of the guy making his coffee was Brian, he knew that much. He was married
with a kid. Other than that, Phoenix didn’t really know him, but every time he
came in the coffee shop, which was usually at least twice a day on the days he
was in town, Brian greeted him as though they were long-lost friends. Somewhere
along the way, they’d given him a nickname — Coach — and though it had stuck, Phoenix
had never bothered to correct them on the fact that he technically wasn’t a
coach. Granted, his driver and a few others had adopted the nickname just to
fuck with him, so he’d gotten used to it.

Today,
Brian was telling a story about how his son had started kindergarten that year
and wasn’t all that keen on having to go back now that the holidays were over.
Phoenix couldn’t relate — he didn’t have kids and wasn’t around them at all —
but he smiled and nodded, tacking on the appropriate encouraging phrase when
necessary. He knew how to hold a conversation even when he knew little about
the topic; he’d been doing it most of his life.

When
Brian passed over the drink he had ordered, Phoenix walked back over to the
register, dropping a five-dollar bill into the glass jar labeled
TIPS
.
It wasn’t that he was feeling overly generous as much as he was trying to get a
look at Mia.

Yes,
Mia.

He
knew her name thanks to the information Tarik had provided him that morning,
but now he had another reason to know her name. A reason that was significantly
less stalkerish than having someone pull up her personal information without
her knowing. Brian had conveniently announced her order as Phoenix had been
paying for his own, which meant he now had a suitable excuse. Running into her
for the third time in one day seemed almost … too good to be true.

During
their trip up to the seventeenth floor, Phoenix had wondered whether or not she
had realized he was the same guy from their run-in in the lobby that morning.
He didn’t think so, based on the way she was darting looks at him. And that
intrigued him for reasons he didn’t quite understand. Not that she had given
either “him” an approving look, but Phoenix had to wonder why she’d gone out of
her way to avoid looking at him both times. Hell, he’d laughed when she’d
practically launched herself out of the elevator when they’d finally reached
her floor.

Mia.

He
had to admit, even her name gave him a hard-on.

Deciding
he wasn’t ready to allow this opportunity to pass him by, he took his coffee
over to the corner she was sitting in and dropped down into one of the chairs
behind her. She looked intently focused on the novel in her hand, and he
would’ve believed that she was engrossed in the story, but even he noticed that
the thing was upside down. Not that he intended to say anything. She was too
damn cute, and he liked the idea that she was possibly trying to avoid him.

Her
cell phone rang, and Phoenix sat back, waiting. He still wasn’t sure whether he
would interrupt her or not, but he was seriously considering it. He’d never
been the kind to let an opportunity pass him by.

“Hey,”
she greeted the caller.

Phoenix
immediately liked her voice. Soft and a little raspy. Not the high-pitched,
saccharine type he’d heard far too many times.

“Yeah,
it was good. Kinda boring.”

He
wished he could hear what the caller was asking her. He had an overwhelming
urge to know what she was talking about.

“No.”

Pause.

“Yes.”

Pause.

“Tomorrow
night? Are you—?”

Pause.
(Obviously
interrupted by the person on the other end of the line.)

“Hockey?
Really? I don’t know, Alex…”

Well,
hell. Phoenix frowned.
Alex?
Seriously? She was talking to some guy?
About hockey? That would be just his fucking luck.

“Got
it. Yep, I’m in.”

Pause.

“What
about
Friday?”

Pause.

“Aww,
crap. I totally forgot about that. Yes, you can pick me up.”

Pause.

“Yes,”
she said, chuckling. “Friday night. It’s a date.”

Pause.

“Okay.
See you tomorrow night.”

A
strange wave of disappointment flooded him as he watched Mia tuck her phone
into the pocket of her sweatshirt. She had a date with
Alex
. Two dates,
it sounded like. He found it odd that it bothered him. He’d really have to give
that some thought. It wasn’t like he knew the girl, so why the hell should he
care if she were going out on a date?

Shit.

Getting
to his feet, Phoenix grabbed his coffee and headed for the door. As he pushed
it open, he glanced back at Mia. She was looking at her book again; this time
it was right side up in her hands, and she didn’t seem to be paying any
attention to him.

Seriously.
He was going to have to figure out what the hell his problem was, because he
didn’t chase women. Ever. He didn’t have to. There were too many lining up to
spend a night in his bed. And that wasn’t ego talking, either. Sometimes it was
irritating as fuck because … well, because sometimes it was just irritating.

Maybe
he would like the chase; he didn’t really know. If and when it ever happened,
he’d know.

Stopping
at the door, he dared one more look at her. This time, her arctic-blue eyes
slowly slid up to meet his. God, she was beautiful. In a sweet, innocent sort
of way. He offered a small smile, a barely there tilt of the corner of his
lips, and he felt a jolt of heat hit him square in the gut when her cheeks
turned a fascinating shade of pink right before her eyes darted back to her
book.

As
he headed out of the coffee shop, his cell phone chirped, signaling a message.
He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. A text from Tarik.

The
blonde girl’s cute. Not your type, but cute.

Phoenix
smiled and typed a quick response.
Not your type, either. Hands off.

Not
surprisingly, he received one more message before he reached the elevator to
take him to the penthouse.

No
promises.

»»●««

When
Phoenix walked into his condominium a few minutes later, after waiting for the
damn elevator for longer than he’d cared to, he was grateful to be alone. Tarik
wasn’t there, and surprisingly, Phoenix’s mother wasn’t there to greet him,
either.

Maybe
that sounded strange, but it was necessary to understand his life to realize
why he’d prefer to be met with silence than someone asking him questions about
his day. Living alone, it should’ve been a no-brainer that he would have time
to himself, but strangely, it seemed people were always traipsing in and out
his door, never offering him a moment’s peace.

Case
in point, when Phoenix had come home earlier, Tarik had been in Phoenix’s home office,
his laptop sitting on the desk in front of him and the phone to his ear. It
wasn’t unusual to find Tarik in his condo at any time of the day. When it came
to business, Tarik took his job very seriously. Oddly, Tarik was about the only
person Phoenix could tolerate in large doses.

Tarik
had greeted him with a gruff look, which, now that he thought about it, really
was the guy’s one and only expression, but no words. That had lasted all of
about a minute before Phoenix had headed for his bedroom, changed out of his
suit and back into street clothes — which so happened to be the same as his
running clothes, his going-to-the-store clothes, and … hell, they were pretty
much the only thing he wore when he didn’t have to be somewhere important —
then darted back downstairs. Initially, he had gone in search of coffee, but
seeing Mia had briefly changed his reason for being there.

Dropping
down onto the leather sofa that sat in the center of his living room, facing
the wall of windows in a room that he spent little time in — there wasn’t a
television, therefore he didn’t have much use for the room — Phoenix
contemplated his little hang-up on the blonde-haired, crystal-blue-eyed woman
who lived in his building.
She was hot, there was absolutely no doubt about
that. But seeing a sexy woman didn’t generally spike his pulse the way she did,
or send him into some sort of fixation. Clearly this woman had something …
something incredibly appealing.

Was
it the look of innocence in her blue eyes? Possible.

That
or it really was the chase.

He
genuinely liked the fact that she’d looked right past him, strange as it
sounded. Three times in one day, in fact. Although, again, he really didn’t
think she’d figured out that he was the same guy she’d seen that morning and
again on the elevator.
That
he found interesting as well. Then again,
maybe she didn’t care.

He
grabbed his laptop from the side table and flipped open the lid, leaving his
coffee to sit untouched. He pulled up his web browser and typed in Mia’s name.
Maybe, just maybe, there was something he could find on her. Why, he didn’t
know, but he figured it was worth a shot.

Two
seconds later, he slammed the lid closed.

No.
He was not going to go there. If there was something to learn about her on the
Internet, he didn’t want to know. He’d had enough of those types. If she was
worth getting to know, he was going to get to know her on a personal basis, no
Internet involved.

Staring
out at the Austin skyline as the orange and pink from the setting sun slowly
settled into darkness, Phoenix realized he had a problem. This was not how he
usually managed things. He didn’t get a glimpse of a woman in an elevator and
become some slobbering idiot who wanted to know more about her. That was
fucking absurd.

Nor
did he think about Tarik with that very same woman, both of them naked and
writhing in the throes of an intense orgasm. Yet his mind had drifted there
more than once that day, the mental images playing like a slide show through
his head, one erotic scene after another. Now, as he imagined the two of them,
Phoenix superimposed himself into those encounters. He could practically feel
the hardwood biting into his knees as he knelt before Tarik, sucking his cock
deep into his throat while Mia kissed Tarik, watching everything he was doing
while Tarik fingered her pretty little pussy.

Son
of a bitch.

Shaking
off the thought, Phoenix focused on the buildings outside the window.

What
the
fuck
was he doing? He was supposed to be thinking about Mia.
Only
Mia. Not entertaining thoughts of threesomes or …
or
pleasuring Tarik.
He’d never fixated on interactions with men before. Well, nothing more than a
couple of hand jobs and some rather exquisite blow jobs during a time in his
life when he’d been trying to identify some of those lingering desires. Sure,
he might’ve sated some curiosity, and maybe he’d gotten off to gay porn a time
or two, but that didn’t mean… He wasn’t…

Fuck.

He
was. He so was.

Tossing
the laptop onto the cushion beside him, he grabbed his cell phone. Pulling up
his contact list, Phoenix held his finger over the button that would dial the
number, one of the few numbers he had that weren’t business related. It would
take the push of a button, and Phoenix would prove that he preferred women over
men any day. He enjoyed women.

Damn
it.

He
hesitated, staring down at the phone.

“Son
of a motherfucking bitch,” he growled, backing out of the screen and tossing
his phone on the cushion beside his laptop.

Calling
any woman other than Mia — which wasn’t even a possibility because he didn’t
have her phone number — wasn’t going to do a damn thing to curb the ache that
had taken up residence in his balls since that brief run-in that morning.
Even if a woman
came over and gave him exactly what he needed, he would still go to bed longing
for something he couldn’t have. And what fucking good would that do him?

An
hour of mindless sex with a woman who didn’t want anything from him wasn’t
going to help. It never had before. Even if his dick thought otherwise.

But
he needed to do something. Whatever he had to do in order to stop thinking
about the woman who’d been on his mind for no other reason than she had
captured his interest that morning in an elevator.

Fuck.

Mindlessly,
he stared out the window and slid his hand down into his shorts, gripping the
steely length of his erection, stroking ever so slowly. His mind drifted back
to Mia, to the way she’d looked that morning when she had stepped off the
elevator. Those tight jeans that hugged a perfect little heart-shaped ass, the
trim legs that would feel like heaven wrapped around his hips while he thrust
into her.