Codi
The rain drizzles down lightly as I turn the corner to Blaq. I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jacket, ducking my head against the cool air of the afternoon. I skirt around the afternoon foot traffic, moving with purpose with a want to get home as soon as possible. It’s freezing, I have a cold and I just want to be tucked into my bed, not pushing through downtown Seattle. For my cell, no less. I leave it at work on occasion. Not on purpose. I’m forgetful. It’s an awful trait. But I need my phone. I’ve been without it since I left work sick on Monday and haven’t contacted my dad since before then. If I don’t call him soon, he’ll panic and a panicked Dominic Rein is something I don’t need to deal with.
Glancing up from the path as I near the door, I come to an abrupt halt. I haven’t seen him a week. Not since I left him scowling after me on the ground floor of Ruin. That night was a complete disaster. I know I’m inexperienced, but if that’s the way relationships work, I’ll happily remain in naivety.
He wrenches the door of Blaq open with greater force than necessary as he enters the shop. I find myself sticking my entire body against the brick wall fifteen or so feet away, attempting to remain invisible as I wait for him to reappear. Tucking my hair into the collar of my jacket, I disguise myself as best as possible, wanting to remain as inconspicuous as possible against his potentially searching eyes.
He exits the shop only a few minutes later, hands braced against the back of his skull in frustration. I see his lips move at the shout of his loud cussing, startling a few people walking close by. I’d bet money at the fact that he most likely growled in their direction at their disapproving looks if their scurrying feet are anything to go by. He glances either way down the street, turning to kick the wall by the door before walking in the opposite direction to my hiding spot.
I watch his retreat with a mixture of eager interest and confusion. Parker Shay turning up at my place of work was not something I’d considered. I was pretty confident we were done. Not that we’d even started anything noteworthy, I just couldn’t imagine why he’d be seeking me out, especially after last Friday night.
Unsticking myself from the brick, I take the few steps needed to reach Blaq, pulling the door open more gently than he had. Pia glances up from the counter, a small smile of greeting playing at her lips.
“You look like shit.”
I walk toward her, clearing the scratch in my throat. “Feel like it.”
“So listen, this guy, Parker, keeps coming by. Hot as all hell. Scary in the same way.”
I frown unconsciously. “He’s been by more than just now?”
Pulling my cell from the counter drawer, she hands it over, nodding her head. “Yeah, at least four times. Look, he’s scaring the customers, not that he’s rude or anything, I told him you’d be back Monday. Hope that’s okay.”
Stuffing my cell into my jeans, I consider what Pia’s just told me. “Did he say what he wanted?”
She shakes her head. “Nah. Just comes in, asks whether you’re working, asks when you’ll be back in.”
“Did he leave a number or something?”
“Nope,” she sighs, no longer interested in the conversation. “Look, he’ll be in on Monday, you can ask him what he wants then.”
“Yeah, okay, thanks,” I mumble to her retreating back.
***
Crouched down by the counter, I restock the bags and tissue paper, trying to create some form of order within the shelving. This is what happens when Pia is left in charge for a week. Everything turns to crap. She’s the owner’s daughter. A spoiled kid who hates working here as much as I hate her being here. She messes with everything. The racks, counter, storeroom; they’re all a complete disaster when I come back. Not to mention all the shit that goes missing, conveniently, all her size too. I don’t know why she bothers stealing and denying it, her mom wouldn’t charge her anyway.
Being down with a cold is like torture, because not only do I feel like death, I know what I have to look forward to on my return.
The door chimes and I rearrange the last of the bags, straightening them before standing. Readjusting my skirt and blouse, I plant my smile onto my face, looking up to say hello. My smile falters almost immediately and I swallow deeply against the nerves in my throat.
He watches me quietly, taking a few steps to bring himself closer. He looks good, no bruises or cuts on his face today. Instead, a fine shadow of unshaven hair decorates his jawline. He’s dressed simply, as seems to be his way, dark jeans, heavy boots, white tee, a leather jacket completing his look.
“Walk past this place every day, ain’t ever seen you before.”
I let my eyes meet his familiar gray stare, a small grin playing at my lips.
He’s starting over. Or at least attempting to.
“Worked here for a few years now, can’t say I’ve seen you before.” I can’t recall exactly what I said last time. I know I flirted. Smiled big. Made my interest known.
Not this time. No. This time, my words are hesitant. No hint of intimacy dancing in the words. He’s disappointed by this, his eyes closing briefly in regret before he opens them again.
“Kickin’ myself I haven’t laid eyes on you sooner.”
I watch him candidly. Looking for the animosity that seemed to overtake him in the club, but it’s not there. In all honesty, he looks a little lost. Unsure, not of himself, more of me.
“That so?”
He doesn’t answer. Much like last time, but instead of the false grin he offered me the first time we met, he smiles genuinely. Maybe stupidly, this pleases me. Parker Shay is dark. Anger and loss ricochet from his demeanor. I like that I can make him smile.
“So, you come in here to tell me that or you buying somethin’?”
He scratches his neck, shifting on his feet. “I ain’t buyin’ anything.”
I raise an eyebrow and he mimics the gesture.
“You got a man?”
This one catches me off guard. Again, making me laugh awkwardly. “Not sure that’s a question you dive right into, handsome. You don’t even know my name.”
He takes a step closer, bringing him flush against the counter I’m standing behind. He’s so close I can smell him; a subtle spiced scent and I lean a little closer. “Just need to know if I need to kill anyone before I ask your name.”
I laugh on cue and his smile comes on wider, pleased with the reaction.
“You don’t need to kill anyone.”
He chews his bottom lip and my focus drops to his mouth. Disappointment overtakes me in that moment at the realization that in the short time at the club, he didn’t attempt to touch me, to kiss me.
Leaning toward me, my body automatically retreats, unsure by the move and he winks, reaching out to grab a pen and paper. His focus drops to the paper as he scribbles a number on it, pushing it my direction and taking a step back.
“That’s it?”
He takes another step backward, his hands burying into his pockets. “All those eyes on you in the club,,, Not used to feelin’ jealous. Caught me off guard and I acted like a dick. Shouldn’a treated you way I did. Hopin’ whatever was maybe growing between us, ain’t lost completely.”
There’s sincerity in his tone that seems out of place on such a severe man. But it’s real and he considers me for only a moment longer, letting his words sink in before walking backward. Reaching the door, he stops. “You gotta name, Sugar?”
Elbows on the counter, I lean over it. “Codi Rein.”
He nods, turning to place a hand on the glass door. “Codi Rein. I like it.”
He pushes on the door, the small entry bell chiming with the move. “You got my number, Codi Rein. Hopin’ like hell you use it.”
He leaves without another word and I stand upright, glancing down at the scribbled-on piece of paper. Picking it up, I laugh loudly, looking back at the door in time to catch his wink before he’s gone from sight.
BOB 206-555-5555