Chapter 12 - Austin

Some people call it stalking . . . I call it admiring from afar.

~ Phoibe Cupid

There was no disguising the surprise to see Mac and Bee at the wedding. The girls seemed to pop up everywhere, and if I were to be honest, I found myself wondering if they were stalking me. Ego much?

When I’d jokingly suggested it at the wedding last night, Mac had cracked up laughing before turning her serious, unusual violet gaze on me.

“Stalking is such a strong word. We prefer the term Intense Research of an Individual.”

Silence had fallen over the small group before Bee had let out a loud snort, then we’d all laughed long and hard about it. The girls’ crazy humor, loyalty, and adventurous spirit seemed to have effortlessly wormed its way into my life, and my small circle of friends had no problem accepting them. When they weren’t laughing at each other’s expense, they were ready to beat down on each other like wrestlers in WrestleMania. They definitely had wild sprits, and I found that impulsiveness and passion sucking me into their stratosphere. For a moment last night, the girls had been the center of attention in a wedding where the bride and groom should have had it locked down.

When Bee had said she could sing, I’d been more than a little skeptical, but being all for musical spontaneity, I’d gone with it. The girl could definitely sing. Her voice probably even a little too powerful for the song choice, but she nailed it, and every time she glanced my way with her big, beautiful smile, my cock stirred with interest.

As soon as we’d finished, though, she practically leaped away from the microphone as though it might bite her. She was obviously relieved the impromptu performance was over, which made me doubt her story of singing in a live venue, yet I found I didn’t care. The fact she had purposefully put herself in such an openly vulnerable situation like that triggered some dormant need to know her better. In all our casual encounters so far, I had found myself somewhat apathetic to the woman. Sure, she was beautiful, but there was just no driving force to take it further and get to know her better. Until she’d open those ruby red lips and sung a song with me.  No woman had ever done anything like that in an attempt to get my attention, and I’m pretty sure that’s why she had done it. She’d put herself out there, and I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to do the same thing.

Sitting at a table directly in front of The Split Bean, I stretched my legs out and soaked up the sun. I’d left Mac, Bee, and Walker at the wedding a little after midnight, my driver clearly too intoxicated in both Mac and buttery nipple shots to drive me home. The further away from the wedding I got, the more distant my thoughts of Bee became, until she was nothing more than just another woman with whom I had crossed paths. Climbing into bed, I found myself regretting the invite for coffee. I didn’t want to lead her on, because to be perfectly honest, I was pretty sure I wasn’t interested in taking things further. Having not exchanged phone numbers meant I couldn’t call and cancel, though, so here I sat, in front of The Split Bean, tired from the night before, and dreading the upcoming date.  Surely it couldn’t be as bad as my last attempts at dating.

Taking a sip from the glass of water at my table, I peered over the rim of the glass and found Bee strolling down the sidewalk in my direction, her shocking blue eyes set on me, a small smile playing at the corners of her sensual mouth. And there was no mother in sight . . . high fucking five.

She was a vision of incredible beauty that had me frozen to my seat as I watched her stroll towards me. Her hair was pulled back into a slick, high ponytail, her face fresh and was either makeup free or so light it didn’t even register. She was wearing long, fitted, tan pants, with a pale blue lace top that sat off her shoulders, and slip-on white sneakers. My cock was quick to agree it liked the package she presented, and I shifted uncomfortably as I grew hard under the table.

“Hey,” she murmured as she drew to a stop in front of my table.

“Hey,” I replied, finding myself lost in her captivating features and unable to string any more words together.

“Mind if I sit?”

I drew my legs back and gestured towards the vacant seat. After the waitress came by and took our orders, we sat in awkward silence. There was something about this woman I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I was attracted to her and she felt important to me, but I wasn’t sure in what way.  It made my usual ease and casual demeanor disappear under graceless discomfort.

Bee was obviously feeling it, too. Her leg bounced a steady cadence under the table, and her elegant fingers fidgeted with the cutlery. I hadn’t met too many women who looked as well put together as Bee yet seemed to lack confidence. It was an unusual combination. The way she dressed indicated she cared about the way she looked. The skin hugging dress she wore to the wedding—that I hadn’t missed was the exact same shade of green as the dress shirt I had worn—implied she had no problem showing off her stunning figure, and yet as she sat before me, she seemed uneasy. Maybe this dating business was a first for her, too? Maybe she was just clumsy with men in general? Maybe it was just me? She didn’t seem to have a problem laughing and joking with Walker.

“So, what do you do for a living?” I asked to try and break the ice. I’d seen her more than half a dozen times over the last few weeks and just realized I knew nothing about her except her first name and her love for sour Warheads.

Bee cleared her throat. “I’m in the business of love,” she murmured, lifting her chin up a notch, as if daring me to tease her over that fact.

“What do you mean? Like a dating agency?”

“I guess,” she replied vaguely.  “It's a family business. You’re a carpenter?”

 “When I’m not busking, yes, I’m a carpenter.”

“Why don’t you perform music full time? You're very good at it.”

Too many people had given me their opinions of my profession and music. It was tiring, justifying my busking, which actually earned me nothing, because I donated the money to charity. I’d lost count of the amount of women who casually implied I should try and get picked up by a label, or play bigger venues. They were women who liked the idea of being seen with a rock star rather than me, the man who liked to build tables and cabinets.

“I’ve never had any dreams or aspirations to be famous,” I casually replied, though I had trouble hiding the hostility in my tone. I hated people suggesting I should be more than what I was. I liked who I was. “My favorite place is definitely not in front of a crowd. Believe it or not, the nerves make me feel sick. I love music, I love to share my love for music, but I don’t want it to be a full time profession. I love being a carpenter; it’s relaxing and I enjoy working with wood and making it into something useful.”

Bee listened intently, leaning forward as if every word I spoke was significant. I wondered if the next question off her full lips would be about my parents and their wealth. Enough women in the past had worked their way into my bed simply because of my surname and the money that name was linked to. At that moment, our food was delivered. It impressed me to see the enormous plate of bacon and eggs she heartily dived into. I liked that she didn’t pick at her meal like a starved bird.

“That’s cool,” she finally said, stabbing a sausage on the end of her fork. “Too many people in this world do things simply because they like the way it makes them look, not because they like the way it makes them feel.”

I froze at her profound statement. It was spoken with complete honesty, and she seemed unapologetically pragmatic about it.

“And I like wood.”

I snorted, and when my gaze rose to hers I found a sexy smile on her full flips.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I mean I like working with wood. I even craft my own arrows.”

“Like a bow and arrow?” I asked, surprised. I’d never met anyone into archery before. It seemed like such an archaic sport.

“Uh-huh,” Bee answered, before taking another mouthful of food.

“I would have thought arrows now days were made from carbon fiber or something.”

“Modern arrows are usually made from carbon fiber, aluminum, fiberglass, and wood shafts, but my arrows are special. They are crafted from a very special wood with obsidian arrow heads.”

“Wow,” I said, almost reverently. I liked that she worked with her hands, too. The conversation, albeit only a few minutes, made something inside me shift; it was almost as if pieces were moving around and clicking into place. The longer I was in this woman’s presence, the more I began to actually care about her world and life. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked, thirsting for more knowledge about this riveting woman.

“No, I’m one of those spoiled-rotten only children.”

 “Must have been a lonely childhood,” I said, unable to comprehend since I had two sisters and we were all close.

Bee shrugged. “Sometimes, but I met Mac when I was fifteen and we’ve been inseparable since. She kind of filled the void, and trust me, she’s a big personality. There was no room for any siblings once she came along.”

“So it’s just you and your parents in the family business of love?”

Another nod. “It’s called Cupids Catch, that was my father’s idea, not mine. Our surname is even Cupid.”

I rarely found myself struck speechless. “For real?” I asked.

“For reals,” Bee replied with a sassy smile.

“Are you close to your parents?”

“I am, especially with my mom. She's the patient one out of the two, whereas my father is prone to being a douche. He’s the killer of fun, the type of man to turn the music down at a party and confiscate all the alcohol.”

I grinned at the picture she painted. 

“I’ve been somewhat of a rebellious daughter, so as you can imagine, we clash, often. I even changed my name, and if I were to be honest it was mostly to spite my father.”

“What was your name?”

Bee blushed. “It was Hedone, pronounced ‘head-one’. It's Greek, and not very modern. I once met a woman in Greece named Phoebe. She was completely crazy, the kind of woman who stalked her own husband and glued his hand to his pecker when she discovered he was cheating on her. I was so impressed, I asked if she would mind if I borrowed her name. Anyway, Mac took to it like a duck to water and my friends and mom were happy to oblige, thinking it was just a phase. Anyway, it stuck but my father still refuses to call me Phoibe let alone Bee.”

“He sounds like an interesting man.”

“Interesting is one word for it. He is also very protective. Regardless of how often I screw up, he’s always had my back and has always forgiven me. He might be strict, but he’s fair.” Bee sighed. “I miss them.”

“Where are they?” I asked.

“They’re away,” she said rather mulishly. “I’m not sure when I will see them again, and as much of a pain in my butt they might be, I usually see them every couple of days. It’s weird going longer periods of time without them grinding my gears.”

She seemed sad, and I didn’t like seeing that dull glaze in her usually bright eyes. Such a sassy woman should never be sad, and I found myself wanting to make her smile.

  A knife she had been fidgeting with while under my studious gaze clashed against her plate and Bee winced, placing the cutlery carefully to one side.

“Sorry, I fidget when I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous because of me?” I asked, unable to comprehend why.

“Umm, duh, of course.”

“Why?” I asked, utterly bewildered.

“Because I’ve never done this before.” She indicated between the two of us.

“Had breakfast?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“Of course I’ve had breakfast before, bacon and eggs are a major part of my staple diet,” she murmured with a smile. “I’ve never dated before.”

“Is that what this is? A date?” I probed, the corner of my mouth threatening to drag my lips into a smile.

A beautiful blush filled her cheeks but she didn’t retreat or look away, she did however squirm in her seat which made keeping my smile hidden near impossible. I felt this childish need to poke a stick at this prickly beauty.

“A social engagement between two people can be construed as a date.”

I let her stew a moment longer, and she finally looked away, the heat in her cheeks pretty cute. When I smiled and she noticed, she scowled which only made me laugh.

“You’re teasing me?” she said, with something akin to disbelief.

“I like watching you squirm.”

“You’re a sadist,” she growled out, her own smile falling to her gorgeous lips.

“What about you? I’m assuming from your endless confidence you do this every other day.”

“You’d assume wrong. The few dates I’ve been on have been complete disasters. I was beginning to think there was something wrong with me.”

Bee leaned forward until her elbows were on the table and her chin was propped under one hand.

“I think the only thing wrong with you was your taste in women.”

“Was?” I said with an arched brow.

Bee smiled and winked.

“I’m confident your tastes have improved.”

Her words weren’t said with conceit, but rather humor.

“Well,” I said, leaning forward to rest my arms on the table and enter her personal space a little. “I haven’t done much tasting so far, so it’s yet to be seen.” Her pupils expanded and a sharp gasp of breath lifted her breasts, which of course, drew my attention. She had great tits, a more than generous handful.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I was hoping I’d be busy being tasted,” she purred.

Chuckling, I stood and hoped she didn’t notice the hard-on I’d discreetly tried to tuck into the waist band of my jeans.

“Let’s get out of here.”

She stood quickly, and when I reached out my hand, she accepted it without hesitation. If I wanted to, I could have taken this beauty home and tasted every inch of her flawless skin for hours upon hours. Keeping my eye on the bigger picture, though, I decided to take her somewhere else with the hope that being in a public place would force me to behave and allow me to get to know her a little better. From the hungry look in Bee’s eyes, I had a feeling she wasn’t going to make that easy for me, though.