His hand still rests on my back, the warmth of his palm soaking in through the thick cotton of the shirt. I can practically count the swirls of his fingerprint on my shoulder.
“Are you alright?” He asks, his voice thick and deep and so wonderful that I forget I almost died by way of biscuit.
He eases me down onto one of the rickety metal chairs, kneeling before me so that his blue eyes peer up at me through dark, long lashes.
“I’m great.” I whisper hoarsely, running my fingertips tentatively down the front of my throat.
That crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the serious twitch of his full lips… there’s something so familiar about it. Something that I can’t place. It niggles the back of my mind, irritating me when I try and focus on the fact that a man this damn gorgeous is gazing at me like I’m the only person on this entire planet.
“Good. I was just in time, then. Witness reports take so much time to file.” The tiniest hint of a smirk crosses his beautiful mouth and I have to struggle not to wrap my hands around the back of his neck and draw his mouth in to greedily greet my own.
“I suppose my eyes are bigger than my mouth.” I murmur, grimacing at my own lack of humor.
The man’s smirk vanishes back into the serious, firm line as his hand sticks out towards me.
“Maddox Dodge.” He introduces himself with that voice that’s grizzly gruff and velvety smooth all at the same time, butterflies swirling around my tummy with so much vigor it makes my head spin.
I plant a hand down on the table, unwilling to pass out on this beautiful stranger.
Maddox Dodge. I look at him again shyly, unable to keep my eyes from drifting down the length of his square, tan jaw. He clears his throat, jiggling the hand slightly that’s still extended towards me as I gasp in embarrassment and meet his handshake.
“It’s okay, women tend to forget themselves around me.” He shrugs, blinking his almond shaped eyes. My head cocks, momentarily torn from reveling in the warmth of his fingers encapsulating mine.
“You know...” He continues slowly, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth tediously, “My being a celebrity and all.
I sucked in another sharp blast of air, this time grateful for the clear passageway of my throat.
Maddox Dodge. As in THE Maddox Dodge, handsome actor and movie star, stealer of hearts from women, young girls, and even men alike. And he is in my café, right now.
Oh my god! I had my life saved by Maddox Dodge!
Reagan was going to have a meltdown when she found out. We had literally just watched Devilishly Dangerous last night.
Damn. I hadn’t even recognized him. He was way more handsome in person… not that I’d ever thought that was even possible.
He drops my hand and I watch it slowly sink back into my lap. Though his hand no longer cupped my own, I could still feel the lingering sensation of his smooth fingers against me. A shiver crawls up my spine, the hair on the back of my neck standing on edge.
“…And your name is?” He asks with another clear of his throat. His eyes shift around slightly, unnerved by my silent, persistent staring.
No way. I get a chance to meet Maddox Dodge and I’m making him uncomfortable with my awkwardness.
I jerk upwards slightly so that I’m straight and my jaw is no longer laying on the floor at our feet, moving to toss my hair over my shoulder before I remember that I’d thrown it into a messy bun.
Oh, lord. And I was wearing my lazy pants – my ripped, faded, oldest pair of jeans that I always wore when I knew there’d be an exceptionally low flow of clients.
Reagan was going to slap me. She was always telling me to look my best.
“You never know who you could meet, Ava!” She always lectured with a tsk of her motherly tongue.
Turns out she was right all along. I’d have to listen to her more often.
Maybe.
“Are you perhaps Mondy?” He continues, trying to prod me from my thoughts.
Come on, Ava!
“It’s Nancy’s.” I somehow manage to sputter from behind nervous lips, clasping my hands in my lap.
“Okay, Nancy-”
“No, no. The café is Nancy’s. I’m Ava. Nancy’s daughter.”
As he nods his chocolate brown hair falls in his curious eyes. He quietly inspects the nearly empty shelves and the distressed menu with items crossed off that I could no longer provide.
Then suddenly he’s looking back at me with those endless, ocean blue eyes that make my jaw fall right back to the floor.
It isn’t right for anyone to be this attractive. It was inhuman. I almost felt like I had to hold up a hand to keep the glowing light of his gorgeous features off my face. Like if I stared at him too long I’d be blinded.
“Well, Ava. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Pleasure. It was a pleasure to meet me. The way he said it made me reach for a napkin, fanning it against my reddening cheeks. He gazes at me in confusion, reaching out to stroke his fingertips once more against my forehead.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“Yes.” I lie, choosing not to state that I was simply overcome by his mere presence. I was like a lady in an old time western film with the vapors, “Just a little cold I’ve been fighting.”
“Is that why you decided to choke on the scone?” He smirks, eyes glinting almost silver in the soft light of the bakery, “A set of the sniffles and you just want to end it all?”
I swat at him, taking that half second flush of my palm against the silk of his button up to memorize the curve of his muscled arm. It was even more robust and rugged than I expected, like he was carved out of rock. He must live at the gym. Ugh. Hopefully not in one of those wife beater tanks with the sides all but carved out so they can worship their abs in the mirror.
With a faint sigh, he glances at his watch and then slowly rises. He towers in front of me, tall as a mountain and just as ruggedly sturdy, “I’ve got to go. I’m late for an interview.”
I bite back the argument leaping to my tongue, wishing that I could cajole him into staying for just a little while. Just long enough for me to map out the flecks of his eyes and the dimple in his cheek. I wanted to bask in his image just a little while longer.
Instead, however, I give a curt nod and leap to my own feet.
“Here.” I announce, weaving through the metal chairs to tug out a pink cardboard box and dump a dozen fresh baked chocolate chip cookies into it. While I work, he heads to the door, watching the first drips of rain fall to the sidewalk.
“It isn’t much.” I shrug, “But thank you. For saving my life and stuff.”
“You’re welcome and stuff.” He smirks back with a chuckle.
“…I really do appreciate you helping me.” I offer softly, lingering at the corner of the doorway with the box of cookies still in my hands. The rich scent of melty chocolate chips slips between my lips with every short breath I inhale, “If there’s anything I can do to return the favor, I’d love to.”
All it took was the tiniest glance around to remind me just how little I had to offer Maddox. I had nothing I could give him, nothing I could spare.
At the most, I could let him have like one large coffee for free a week or the leftover pastries and fresh produce that didn’t sell in time. Pathetic, that was me. I could barely even look up at him, I felt so guilty in his unearthly presence. He’d saved my life and there was nothing I could do to repay him.
He reaches out, his palms smoothing overtop my hands as he takes the cookies and pulls it towards his chest, tugging me a step closer towards him in the process. The fragrance of chocolate melds with the woody musk of his cologne, making my eyelids heavy. It was heavenly.
I can only guess that he could read my thoughts or detect my sense of incompetence because his touch was gentle and soothing.
“You don’t have to pay me.” He shrugs, his fingers dancing along the back of my hands. Every faint tap of his finger pads against my skin made stomach twist more and more until I could barely breathe, “But there is something that I could use… a favor.”
“Anything.” I whisper, voice barely audible over the gentle plucks of heavy raindrops on the glass by our faces, “Anything you ask, it’s yours.”
I was too hypnotized by his touch and the silkiness of his voice to regret that statement, which I would soon enough.
“I’m so glad you say that, Ava.” He murmurs, fingers tightening around my clammy, quivering hands, “Because I need you to marry me.”