paradise in your eyes;

Men, Karen had decided, were assholes.

She was quite the expert actually. She’d had nice guys, she’d had bad boys, and she’d had everything in-between. After thirty long years of her life she’d seen the entire gambit of the male population of the world and goddamn…

Every single one of them was a total and complete douchecanoe.

So it really shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise to Karen that this barista was any different. She’d been watching him ever since he showed up and tainted her safe haven and it was almost cloying how much of a dickweed he was. Hell, this guy was practically textbook! First of all, he was far too handsome for it not to have been carefully cultivated; secondly, he obviously was trying so freaking hard to maintain a certain air of mystic and allure; and on top of all that, he was making himself out to be such a selfless dude when Karen had seen him—with her own eyes!—flirting with every single breathing entity with boobs in what had to be the tri-state area.

Karen felt like she was about to puke into her Earl Grey.

Honestly she mainly felt bad for the girl. She seemed sweet. Karen had watched her before, too. Much longer than she’d watched the Jackass as Karen had mentally named the gelled-up atrocity behind the counter. Karen had always felt a little smile touch her face when the girl left with coffee and muffins for her entire team just because it was a Tuesday, or paid for the coffee for the next three people behind her since it looked like was going to rain and they needed some sunshine.

That girl was the type of person you protected with your life in order to maintain the ratio of innocence and kindness to cynicism and hatred on this sorry planet. Just too bad that Karen was certain that nobody in this town would ever accept her help even if it would keep them from the very pits of hell.

She sighed a little and shook her head at Jackass as he batted his too-long eyelashes at the poor angel as she headed out the door. It was disgusting. He was disgusting. God almighty how could he even stand himself?

Yet she did not turn away when he looked her way and caught her staring at him. Fuck that. She’d call him out with her eyes. She wasn’t scared of him. Karen didn’t give a shit anymore. Almost everyone in this place hated her anyway so there was nothing to risk in making this fuckwad hate her too. Instead Karen just pursed her lips further and shook her head before going back to her paperwork.

It was already hard enough to arrange your accounts when you were self-employed. Didn’t help that the only good accountant in town had decided to side with Chris after the Great Selznick Scandal of 2013. Also didn’t help that Karen was helpless with numbers and probably was one bad day away from getting audited. But of course, as soon as she ran her hands through her brunette curls and made the decision that that had been enough for the day, who else would plop his pretty-boy butt down across from her?

Karen slowly lifted her head and raised an eyebrow at the man before snorting in a very un-ladylike manner.

“Oh? Is that what this is? A rescue mission? Wow… I just… I don’t even know what to say!” She drawled, collecting up her papers and beginning to file them away in her beat-up briefcase. “I had been sitting here for so long, just dying of thirst. But you know it’s so hard for me to get my own drinks. There’s all that getting up and walking across the coffee shop. And don’t even get me started on all that reading of the menu. Ugh, and then there’s all that figuring out how much to pay! It’s soooo difficult, you know?”

Karen flashed the man a sarcastic smile and stood as she slung the strap of the case over her shoulder. “So, you know, thanks… but no thanks. I don’t take charity from sleazy douchebags, Jackass. I can do better than that, and I most certainly can do better than you. So why don’t you go back to playing your little game of pretend with your fake girlfriend, okay? Though I’m pretty sure sooner or later she’ll finally wake up and decide to punch you in the face instead. At least, one can only dream.”

"Woah-ho-ho,” Aidan’s eyebrows shot up as she finished her tirade. “Slow down there, sweetheart. I know you’re capable of walking and talking and dancing your own way to the counter, if you so choose. I was just trying to be a nice guy. Excuse me wanting to help you out.”

He sat back, taking a sip from his own cup before setting it on the table. “Look, I realize maybe I came on a little strong. But you looked thirsty. I just thought I’d help out. You’ve been sitting here a long time. I know how hard it can be to find a spare moment to get up and order another drink.”

Glancing around, he noted her many bags, “There’s always the question of what to do with your stuff. Can I leave it here or should I take it with me. I’m only going up to the counter. How long could that take? But what if they’re slow? Look, I get it.”

He gestured back to her seat as she stood up. “Now would you please sit back down? And maybe pack away your claws? Not that they’re not attractive. But a little much for the first meeting. Maybe save them for next time.”

With that, he leaned back and made himself comfortable.

Her angry rant would’ve sent most guys packing. But that’s where Aidan was different. With years of practice under his belt, he knew how to handle every type. It was just a matter of finding what works. This one obviously didn’t need charm. Or, at least, not the kind of charm he used with Amaira and thousands of others like her.

That’s fine. Every girl’s different. He just had to find what worked with this one. And when he did, well, he was confident she’d fall for him, the same as all the others. And then maybe she’d stop staring. Or at the very least, maybe she’d smile while she did.

It wasn’t the staring that unnerved him. That, he was used to. It was the glaring. Aidan wasn’t used to women glaring at him. He couldn’t even remember the last one who had. But this one? She was a piece of work if he ever saw one. If he didn’t already have his sights set on Amaira, he might give this one a go.

But she didn’t look rich. She didn’t even look like she could afford that second cup of coffee. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t ordered one.

Then why hadn’t she been more grateful? Girls usually loved free stuff. Unless this one only came here for the wifi. That would mean she wasn’t rich and, therefore, not even in his league. He didn’t play for quarters. He was here for the big bucks.

So this one wasn’t going to get him that ticket to Vegas. After things heated up with Amaira, he wouldn’t need it. But this girl was here every day. And he couldn’t take yet another day of her staring at him while he chatted with Amaira. So this would work. It had to.

“For the record, I don’t have a girlfriend. Fake or otherwise.” He gave her a small half smile, tilting his head as his eyes locked with hers. “If you’re talking about Amaira, we’re just friends. I’m not looking for anything more. With her or with you.” He sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands. “Look, if you think I came over here to flirt with you, you are entirely mistaken. I hate to break it to you, but you’re not really my type.

“I just came to give you a refill. And maybe get to know you a little better. You’ve been here every day this week. I work here now. If we’re both going to be regulars, the least we can do is get to know each other. As much as I’ve enjoyed the staring contest, I think we can do better. Maybe add in a ‘hello’ or a ‘how are you’ every once in a while.

“I’m not here to pack you in the car and whisk you off to Atlantic City. So don’t worry. You’re safe with me. I promise.”

His blue eyes continued to bore into hers as he licked his lips, his eyebrows shooting skyward as he cocked his head to the side, posing the unspoken question. Was she intent on keeping up her angry façade? Or would she sit back down, drink her tea and chat with him. If she didn’t, well, she’d be the first. That’s why he was sure she would.

If not, well, he had lots of other tricks up his sleeve. A whole book’s worth. He was, after all, the master. You didn’t do this for ten years and not learn anything.

And Aidan, well, he was the best in the biz. Not that he’d brag about that or anything. At least, not to anyone who’d remember.

But this girl? Even though she contined to stare at him like he was the scum of the sea, Aidan didn’t doubt for a single second that he’d win her over. She maybe talk a good game but deep down, she wanted what all women wanted. To feel wanted.

An On the Oceanfront moodboard | Brot3: Two Babes and a Blonde (1/?)

and a Bonus grumpy!Nick:

AIDAN QUINN / chris pine

Relationships: (current targets:) Amaira Uddin,  (ex-girlfriend:) Kara Larsson, (cousin:) Elaine Burrows, (employee:) Penelope “Pippa” Eastwood 

Age: 29 Occupation: Manager @ Bad Ass Coffee/Conman  Description: Aidan’s drifted into town under the pretense of reuniting with his cousin, Elaine, but he’s really just here to run a few cons before he moves onto his next town. Aidan’s always been exceptionally bright, but he’s never applied himself. He failed out of highschool and no one thought he would amount to much. While he manages the local coffee shop by day, at night he’s out on the town using his looks, intelligence, and charms to his advantage as he cons people out of their money. He’s good at reading people and knowing exactly what they want to hear. He knows how to fake empathy, but the truth is, Aidan really only cares about himself.