chapter 17
RILEY
“THE DAY YOU WENT Away” by Wendy Matthews plays on the radio, and I sing along to it while I wipe down all the tables. We haven’t opened yet, but sometimes I like to come early and make sure everything is spotless. It’s my moment of peace, before all the hustle and bustle of the day begins. I vacuum and mop the wooden floors and then make sure all the glasses and plates are sparkling, and that we are all stocked up with everything we’re going to need for the day.
Callie comes in thirty minutes early, and we both sit down at one of the booths and have some breakfast together. I don’t know how this became our morning routine, but I really enjoy it. On the menu today is smashed avocado, toast, and poached eggs. It’s not as good as Cheffy’s, because we made it ourselves, but it still tastes pretty good. I don’t mind cooking. I’m pretty decent in the kitchen, although I don’t have the time to cook every day like I used to.
“Whose playlist is it today?” she asks me, eating a bite of toast. “I really hope it’s not Preston’s.”
“I think it’s Cheffy’s,” I reply, smirking. “Love songs all the way today then.”
“Why can’t the men here have cooler taste in music?” she asks, sighing. “I like working to upbeat stuff, and not just Preston’s pop music, it makes the day go faster, and I can dance when no one is looking.”
“As if you care if anyone is looking,” I point out.
Actually, I’m pretty sure she likes it.
“True,” she says, chewing slowly and swallowing. “I really don’t care. I like to think I’m a good dancer.”
“For a pole, maybe,” I tease, laughing when she looks outraged but then eventually nods, agrees, and murmurs, “Who am I kidding?”
Without so much as a pause, she asks, “So are you ever going to talk about what happened with Hunter the other night? I’m over making hints and hoping that you will tell me of your own accord.”
I laugh, because she’s been hinting so obviously but hasn’t straight-out asked until now, so I kind of avoided the subject. “Well, we kissed. And chatted a little, and that’s about it.”
“About fucking time. How was the kiss? Months of pent-up sexual tension exploding into a clash of lips and tongue?”
The shit she comes up with.
“The kiss was . . .”
How do I explain the kiss? I’ve never been kissed like that in my life. He’s so good with his mouth, with his tongue, and the way he was looking at me . . . It was the emotion behind the kiss that really hit me. I’m so drawn to the man, and I’ve been fighting it; just after that kiss I have to ask myself: Why? Yes, it’s a risk, and yes, I could get hurt, but . . .
That. Fucking. Kiss.
It was worth it, and it’s worth what will or won’t happen.
No one has looked at me like that before either.
I see lust in men’s eyes all the time.
But what I saw in his, it was something else.
“Perfect,” I finish with. “It was perfect. He clearly knows what he’s doing, and . . . shit, Callie. This is what I wanted to avoid, you know? How am I going to see him now, to be around him without wanting more?”
“It’s okay to want more of him,” Callie tells me. “And he wants you back, Riley, so you can do what you want. Kiss him when you want. Don’t question or think, just feel.”
“Easier said than done,” I grumble.
Cheffy arrives, and love songs from the eighties start to fill the room.
“I feel like I need to tease my hair and wear blue eye shadow for this music,” Callie groans, standing up. “I’m going to open the doors. Another day, another dollar.”
I stand up and go and say good morning to Cheffy, then stand behind the bar and wait for people to start filing in. We don’t get too busy in the mornings, but I like to be prepared, just in case. Callie comes and stands next to me and smiles.
“I bet you fuck him by the end of the week,” she says, bouncing on her feet in excitement. “And I bet it’s going to be epic. What a way to end your yearlong dick drought.”
I sigh and shake my head. “That’s not going to happen. You know how skeptical I am; rushing into things isn’t going to help.”
“Yeah, I know, but sometimes your vagina makes decisions, not your head, and I think this is going to be one of those times,” she says with a straight face. “Trust me, I know a thing or two about that. I’m the queen of bad decisions, and welcome to my world.”
I study her, blinking furiously, considering her words.
“I am not joining your world just yet, Callie,” I say to her.
But fuck, it’s tempting.
I’M RELAXING IN THE bath, surrounded by bubbles, candles lit and music in the background, when I hear a knock on my door and Bear’s bark. I take a sip of the glass of red wine in my hand and wonder if I ignore it, will they go away? I only just slid into the warm water, and I don’t want to get out any time soon. When the knocking continues, I get out of the bath with an audible groan, bubbles clinging to my soapy body. I grab a fluffy white towel to my left and wrap it around me, rushing to the front door. When I glance through the peephole and see Hunter standing there, panic fills me. He knocks again, making me jump and almost lose my towel. I decide to open the door a little, sticking my head out.
“Hunter, what are you doing here?” I ask him.
He gives me a once-over, a slow-spreading smile transforming his face. “Came to say hello. Perfect timing, by the looks of things.”
“I just got into my bath, and I’ve been looking forward to it all day,” I groan, opening the door a little more. “Can you come back another time?”
“I can wait until you finish your bath,” he says, lifting his hands and showing the bag he’s brought with him. “I got you food.”
“What is it?” I ask, eyeing his hands.
“Mexican.”
“I love Mexican,” I tell him.
“I know,” he replies with a wide grin, a picture of the emoji I use with the cheeky side smile.
My stomach rumbles.
I open the door and let him in, food winning out over my shyness of my being in a towel, my hair slightly damp in some areas. Bear smells him, then retreats back to his bed, I guess assessing him as unthreatening. Who am I kidding, Bear likes everyone. “The food smells good.”
“You smell good,” he rumbles, glancing over me once again. “I’ve never seen you with—”
“So little clothes on?” I insert, looking down at myself. “Let me get dressed.”
“Take your time,” he croons, eyes alight with humor. “No need to put on any clothes on my behalf.”
I roll my eyes and show him where my living room is, waiting until he’s sitting, before disappearing into my bathroom, where I blow out the candles and then put on panties, a bra, and my white robe. I’ll refill the bath and try to have another one when he leaves. When I come out again, I’ve found he’s already made himself at home, putting on the TV.
“That’s your idea of clothes?” he teases as I sit down next to him. He slides over the food. “There’s nachos, two tacos, and a burrito.”
My eyes go wide. “That’s a lot of food. Then again, you could probably eat it all, couldn’t you?”
“I could,” he says, resting his arm behind my head, running it along the couch. “So choose what you want and hold on to it for dear life.”
I grin and take out the nachos, then slide the rest over to him. “Better be jalapeños on there.”
He makes a scoffing sound. “Of course, who do you think I am, Riley? I know you like it spicy.”
My lip twitches as I open the white Styrofoam container, grabbing a plastic fork and taking a bite of the cheesy goodness. “Thanks for bringing me dinner.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, watching me. “I knew it’s what would get me through the door.”
I swallow my bite, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “You don’t need to bring me food to hang out with me. You could just let me know when you’re coming so I expect you.”
“But then I won’t see you wet, in a towel, cheeks flushed,” he replies, and I can feel myself blushing.
“You just say whatever you feel like saying, don’t you?” I ask him, realizing that he likes putting me on the spot. “No filter whatsoever.”
“How do you get to really know someone if they’re not being honest about their thoughts? There’s no point sugarcoating who I am, and yes, I like to joke around and tease. I’m honest. And I like it when you blush. Not many women do anymore.”
“You’d know,” I mutter under my breath, eyes on the food instead of him now.
“Would I now? Been listening to gossip, Riley?” he asks, and I don’t miss the amusement in his tone.
“No. I don’t listen to gossip. I believe what I see with my own eyes,” I tell him, bringing my eyes back to him. “Don’t forget that you’ve been coming to my pub ever since it opened, Hunter.”
“How could I forget, when you’re the reason I keep coming back there?” the charmer fires back at me. “I remember the first day I saw you.”
“I remember too,” I tell him. He and Jaxon together are quite the view, how could I forget? Hunter is the one who caught my eye though; the first thing that went through my mind when I saw him was This one is trouble. I stick to my first impression.
I stare at the TV, which is hard because I can feel him watching me. I like it though. He likes watching me. It makes me feel—I don’t know—special, I guess, as stupid as that sounds. I’m not used to having someone pay so much attention to me, be so focused on me. It’s like he can’t look away, even if he wanted to. Like just being near me is enough. With Jeremy, after the first few years, I kind of faded into the background. He didn’t look at me like Hunter does, and the fucked-up thing is, I don’t think he ever did, but I didn’t have anything to compare it to, so I didn’t know any better.
Maybe I still don’t know any better.