Curse of the Alpha: The Complete Bundle Read Online Free PDF

rich with the scent of fresh coffee. Her shoulders went down an inch in relief.
    A chalkboard by the counter listed the coffee choices. The pastry flavors were labeled with wax pencil on the glass of the case. Pretty decent spread. The boy at the counter swallowed when he saw her.
    “Um…Hi…what can I get for you?”
    He didn’t look familiar. But he was pulling that thing where he stared while she looked at the menu and then looked away when she turned to make eye contact again. Stupid Tarker’s Hollow.
    “Soy latte, please.”
    She turned to look around while he steamed the milk. The dim room was filled with small wooden tables and sofas. It seemed to be a popular spot for college students – a relief since they were mostly passing through, not wolves-in-residence.
    A table of kids with blue and purple hair sipped tea and fussed with their laptops. An awkward couple on a vintage sofa pretended to look at their iPads while it was clear each wished it were a regular date, not a homework date. At the table by the window, a man read a book – a real book – not on some electronic device. Ainsley squinted to see what it was, but the angle was wrong.
    The man holding it was hot, though. No, that wasn’t quite right, he was handsome. He was too refined to be described as hot. He was just Ainsley’s type.
    “Uh, soy latte,” the kid called out, as though she weren’t the only one standing at the counter. “Anything else?”
    “No, thank you.”
    Ainsley’s mood for a treat was ruined. She wouldn’t want the man with the book to think she was the type of person who ate pastries in the middle of the day for no reason, even if she was never going to see him again.
    She used a napkin to wipe the stray drips from the sides of the cup, then headed toward the window. If she could just grab a seat close to the book guy, she’d be able to see what he was reading.
    She wiped down a table catty-corner to his and took a seat. The heavy oak chair clattered on the pine floor as she pulled it out, causing him to glance in her direction.
    Ainsley took him in. Bright blue eyes in a finely chiseled face, crisp white tailored shirt, and longish blonde hair that was too well styled to be cut anywhere in Tarker’s Hollow.
    She surveyed his table.
    It was free of crumbs and occupied by a paper coffee cup, and a tattered copy of War and Peace .
    She checked his hands.
    No ring. Manicured nails. An understated Breitling watch peeked from his shirt cuff, not trying too hard to draw attention.
    Her eyes were drawn back to War and Peace in wonder.
    “Have you read it?” His eyes crinkled when he smiled.
    Of course she had. She read it every fall. It was her dad’s favorite, and eventually hers as well, though she’d gone through a rebellious Dostoyevsky phase.
    “It’s my favorite book.” That didn’t sound too desperate.
    “Join me,” he said. “If the table seems clean enough.”
    She studied him again, he was certainly not from Tarker’s Hollow.
    He raised an eyebrow and her stomach did a little flip flop.
    She grabbed her clutch and her latte and stepped to the table. He stood up immediately and pulled out her chair. She couldn’t decide if the gesture was sincere or ironic, and frankly didn’t know which she would have preferred.
    “So, what brings you to Tarker’s Hollow?” It sounded like he was going through niceties by rote.
    “I could ask you the same,” she said.
    “A local, eh? I’ve been here six months and haven’t seen you. I would remember.”
    “I was born here, grew up here, went away to college, then to a job in New York and now I’m back here to close out my parents’ estate.”
    “An economical biography. It’s nice to meet a fellow New Yorker,” he said.
    “You’re from New York?”
    “Not originally, no. But I teach Russian Lit at NYU. I’m at Tarker’s Hollow College on sabbatical, and doing a few lectures here and there to earn my keep.”
    Ainsley pursed her lips.
    “What’s