Chapter 12

Emily

I chatted with Adelynn for a while and discovered her mother had died of cancer, a while back. She told me she was married to a wonderful man named Ricky and that he was killed six years ago. He was in logistics and supply and was killed by an IED when it blew up and destroyed the truck he was in. He was based in Iraq. They have a son Ben, and he is eight. He doesn’t remember his father. Adelynn moved back to Tourmaline after Ricky’s death to be with family and to help her father. She didn’t realize he needs more help than she is capable of giving.

After out chat, I head towards room five. My stomach is in knots, as I don’t know what kind of reception to expect. I knock on the door and Salvatore steps out and into my space. He has no shirt on and goodness me, does he look divine. I notice the tattoos across his chest and down one arm. I have never seen such a well-sculpted physique. I have a fleeting thought of running my lips over his skin.

For a moment, I am speechless but he breaks me out of my thoughts when he says, “Amare, what brings you to me again?” His voice is deep and gravelly. I slowly drag my eyes to his and when I do, he has a knowing smirk on his face.

“I got you some coffee...to say thank you and...” I pause and stare at his chest again and say, “I thought maybe I could buy you breakfast. The café apparently does amazing waffles...” I slowly raise my eyes to his and he is still wearing that knowing smile.

He puts his arm around me and ushers me into his room. “Come in, Amare, while I put a shirt on.” He closes the door and I stand there like a mannequin, searching my mind for something amusing to say. I am barely inside the room; my back is almost up against the door. He bends over the bed, grabs his shirt and faces me. Again, he comes into my space and touches both my hands. “So, which one is mine.” I hold up my right hand slowly and he takes both cups out of my hands and places them on a small table. Then he returns to me and I find myself pushed up against the door as he examines my face. “Ahh, I see you’ve had this treated.” He has his body pressed up against mine as his hands prod my face. “I do not think you will even have a scar. Tell me, did they tow your car to the Compound?”

I am completely overwhelmed. My core is on fire and I want so much to kiss him, to touch him. I feel sparks of electricity shoot through every fiber in my body and every nerve ending is screaming for release. I want his hands on me, all over me.

“Amare?”

I put my hands on his chest and push him away. He’s too close, making it hard to form a single thought. I take two steps to the side to put some distance between us so I can speak like a human, not a lust induced zombie. “Yes, they towed my car and it’s in their lot. I haven’t really spoken to them about it yet. I kind of fell asleep on them...”

His face clouds over and he says, “You kind of fell asleep on them? What. Does. That. Mean?” He pauses between each word and growls them at me.

“Jonas took me to see Doc Jordan and he gave me something for the pain, but because I hadn’t slept in days it made me sleepy. I think he ended up carrying me to their clubhouse.” I realize how all this must sound. If someone told me that exact same story, I would be thinking the worst.

“Did they touch you, Amare?” he growls at me, his eyes blazing with anger.

“No, no, no! In fact, Jonas put a guard on my door so no one would go near me. Not that they would. I was safe, Sal.” Something crosses his face and he stares at me so intently that I look away and stare at the floor.

He moves back into my space and lifts my head up. “Thank you for getting me coffee. Let’s go have breakfast and I’m buying. I think I shall keep you in my sights to make sure nothing else happens to you. I have never met a woman who allows herself to get into so many dangerous situations, in such a short space in time. You, my Amare, are a handful.” He moves away from me and does up his shirt, then grabs his jacket. He opens the door to his room and extends his arm. “Shall we?” he asks, offering me a smile that reveals his dimple. My core clenches again and I have to fight the urge to throw myself at him.

I walk out into the sunshine and he is about to join me when he says, “One minute, Amare, wait here.” He goes back inside and shuts the door. He’s only gone for a moment and I wonder what he’s doing, but then he opens the door and is back by my side.

I grab his hand and we walk, hand in hand to the café. I have never felt so aroused in my life. I wish I were more experienced with men. He looks at me as though he is amused and gives me a half smile. I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Do I respond? Do I try to make conversation? Or, should I kiss him and see what happens? All this runs through my mind as he guides me to a booth in Betties Café. I sit down opposite him and he continues to hold my hand.

The waitress from earlier comes bounding up to our table and Sal says, “Hello, Rosie, how are you this morning?”

“Great! It’s another glorious day in downtown Tourmaline! Now, what can I get you?” Her infectious personality just bubbles over.

Sal looks at me and I say, “Well, I think I have to try those waffles please, Rosie.”

“Fantastic choice!” she says and winks at me. Then she looks to Sal. “The same as yesterday? And pronto on the coffee?” she says with a smile.

“That sounds good, Rosie, thank you.”

As Rosie backs away, she points at Sal behind his back and gives me the thumbs up. I smile at her and Sal turns around to see a red‐faced Rosie who hurries back to the kitchen.

He raises his eyebrows at me and says, “I think Rosie approves.” Then he runs his thumb over my knuckles and heat pools between my thighs. I go to pull my hand from his but he holds on. “Tell me about yourself, Amare. Where are you from? What do you do?”

For a moment I am caught off guard, my senses have been so focused on him and now he wants to know about me. I look into his eyes and I see compassion there. I have no idea how to tell him about my life and myself, so I try turning the tables on him.

“No, you don’t want to know about me, not really. I’m an open book; tell me about you and what brings you to Tourmaline.”

He stares at me for a moment and is about to say something when Rosie appears with our coffees. “Here you go!” she says and I am temporarily saved from any conversation.