by S. M. Soto
“Want a ride?”
“I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t.”
He frowns. “You shouldn’t be walking alone out so late at night, either.”
I can tell he isn’t going to give in on this, so I acquiesce. “Okay, fine. Just a ride.” I start walking toward his truck when I hear him from behind me.
“Can’t forget this one.”
When I turn, my lips are thinned into a grim line. I roll my eyes, stomping toward him, and snatch the bag from him. “I’m going to kill Julia,” I mumble on the way to his truck.
The ride is mostly silent, a thick tension swirling in the confined space between us.
When he pulls to a stop at the curb, we both just sit there, not saying anything. That was too close tonight. I almost risked everything for one kiss. What the hell was I thinking? I have to be stronger. I can’t keep doing this.
“Thank you. For the ride. And the flowers. And just…thank you, Endymion.”
He smiles. It causes the corners of his beautiful, vibrant eyes to crinkle softly. “You don’t need to thank me. I’ll see you tomorrow, Selene.”
I pause with my hand gripped around the door handle. Unable to help it, I smile. “Right. Good night.”
“Good night, beautiful.”
Those words drip down from my pounding heart and settle somewhere low in my belly, like a warm dose of nectar or sunshine. They echo on a boisterous repeat as I unlock the front door and shut it behind me. I rest my back on the wood and sag against it.
God, he’s even more charming than I thought, I think as I look down at the two bouquets in my hands. I want to believe I can be strong enough to keep saying no to him, but if tonight is any indication, I obviously can’t.
Before this escalates any further, I need to come clean. I need to tell him the truth about that night at the creek and about Luna. He’s not going to like it, and it’s going to hurt, but it has to be done.
I can only hope tomorrow I’m a stronger person than I was today.
We finally break the entire wall down outside of Gavin’s house. For safety purposes, Cece and Gavin took Luna out around town. The kid is too slippery, and I didn’t want to take the chance of her getting hurt.
I didn’t get a chance to see Selene this morning, but I learned she started her job at Rita’s. I make a mental note that once I get done here, I’ll stop in for a visit. A wry grin twists my lips just at the thought.
“What the hell are you smiling about?” Griffin asks, nudging me on the arm.
I shrug noncommittally, getting back to work. “I wasn’t.”
Everyone suddenly stops short. “Okay, something is definitely off here. You’re lying about smiling now, man? Who is she?”
I don’t bother with a reply, not that I need to, though, not when I have Bishop around. The asshole.
“Oh, I’ll tell you who it is. It’s the MILF, isn’t it?” Landon pipes in. Griffin crosses his tattooed arms over his chest, a smug grin now in place thanks to Lan. Fucker thinks he knows everything.
The rest of the guys go wild over this news. “She won’t even agree to go on a date with me. Let’s not jump the gun.”
“What do you mean she won’t agree on a date? Wasn’t she in love with you when she lived here?”
My brows rise incredulously. “You guys noticed it, too?”
“It was hard not to,” Bishop says, clapping me on the back.
“Seriously. You were such an idiot back then, letting a girl like her slip through your fingers. Isn’t life crazy? She chased you for years, gave up, got pregnant by some random dude, and now all of a sudden, you’re the one chasing her. If you weren’t such a shit, I bet that’d be your kid.”
After Landon’s speech, we all get back to work, and I remain silent the entire time, stuck in my thoughts. He wasn’t wrong. His observation hits much too close to home.
Why didn’t I notice her then? And why can’t I seem to look away from her now?
Something about Selene draws you in. It makes me want to get closer, stare longer, and know everything there is to know about her as a person. I want her to let her walls down and show me the real her. The one that sits in that grassy field, gazing out at the creek. She’s not the only one I find myself drawn to—it’s Luna, too. I’ve never met a kid with more spunk. She’s adorable. I’m not all that surprised. Her mother is Selene, after all.
Once we call it a day and as the guys head out, I inform them that I’ll be late for beers and the game at Griffin’s house. I have a woman to woo, and the last thing I need is to hear more of their shit.
When I push through the diner doors, the bell chimes, and all eyes swing my way. I rake a hand through my hair that is still damp from my shower. I’m used to this—the women in this town staring for far too long. The whispers about my past, about my present, and of course, my future. That is the main thing I still hate about living here in Dunsmuir, even after all these years. It is a small town, and all people like to do is talk. It doesn’t matter if the shit they are spewing is true or false; they spread it anyway.
Ignoring the glances, I find an open booth in the corner, and I set another fresh bouquet down on the table. This time I went with a mix of lilies and calla lilies. I lean back, slinging my arm over the back of the open booth, looking around, trying to find the woman I came here for. Almost like it was meant to be, she stumbles out from the back double doors, juggling a tray filled with glasses.
On anyone else, this uniform looks plain and boring, but on Selene? She looks like a fucking goddess. Her hair is in another one of those loose braids, her face clean of any makeup. Her cheeks have a pink tint, probably from running around and standing on her feet all day. The uniform here at Rita’s is a simple red dress with a black apron. And for some reason, I can’t stop staring at her perfect, shapely legs. Her long, brown hair and her creamy skin is a balm I never knew I needed.
She’s beautiful. I’ve never been surer of anything.
Off to the right, she serves a table the drinks from her tray. She turns around, blowing out a deep sigh. Stray strands of hair have fallen into her eyes and billow around her face with that gust of air. It’s fucking adorable. That’s about the time she notices me sitting there, and she freezes. Those gorgeous doe eyes widen, and her face flames. She glances down at herself, around the diner, then back at me. Slowly, she wipes her hands down her front apron, then she squares her shoulders and makes her way toward me. The whole time, her gaze drifts from the flowers on the table, then back to me, like she can’t seem to decide where she wants to look.
Selene pauses in front of my booth, and she wrings her hands in her apron nervously. In a nervous tic, she traps her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing on it. And, fuck me, I love it when she does that, too.
“Selene,” I say by way of greeting, unable to hide my grin. Her gaze drops to my lips, then back up to my eyes, like she doesn’t want to get caught staring for too long.
“Endymion.” She clears her throat, her face flushing. Her bottom lip has popped free, and my eyes are riveted to her pinkish red plump lips.
I reach for the bouquet of lilies and hand them off to her. “Your daily dose of flowers, as promised.” That gets a smile out of her. It slowly spreads across her face, brightening her features. She grins down at the bouquet, taking them in with a soft look in her eyes. I do a quick scan around Rita’s and realize everyone has stopped talking and eating, and instead, they’re gaping at us.
“God, Endymion,” she breathes. “These are beautiful.” She suddenly frowns, glancing around her, as if she’s just now realizing how quiet it’s gotten in here. Her mouth opens as if she’s going to say something, but then she snaps it shut.
“Thank you,” she mumbles quietly, as though she doesn’t want everyone around us to hear. I grin up at her, unable to help myself. I don’t know how it’s possible—I shouldn’t even be able to smell it, what with the delicious savory scent floating around Rita’s—but somehow, I can still smell her. Her
scent is so distinct. Even out in the field at the creek, her presence overshadows everything. It’s an alluring scent, all soft and sweet. Like coconut milk and cedarwood. Like flowers and honey.
“What do you say about that date?”
The creamy expanse of her chest goes up in flames. I hear a sharp intake of breath from someone in the diner. Selene glances over her shoulder and shifts on her feet, obviously uncomfortable with the close scrutiny. She gets a nod from Rita herself and leans down to speak near my ear.
“People are going to talk,” she whisper-hisses.
Cocking my head to the side, I regard her for a beat. She’s never really struck me as someone who cares what others think, but obviously, she does care. Or maybe, she just hates being the focal point of conversation or the spotlight of gossip here in town. I eventually shrug. “Let them talk, babe.”
The concept seems insane to her because she looks at me like I’m crazy. She shoots another quick glance over her shoulder, and I grin at her.
“Go ahead. I know you have your hands full.”
Selene pauses, and it looks like she wants to say more, but she nods, offering me a gentle smile. “Did you…did you want anything?”
“I could go for a coffee.”
Her smile is shy as she dips her head, trying to hide her face. I get the sense this is a protective gesture. One she uses to hide. Doesn’t she know it only makes me want to delve deeper?
She suddenly clears her throat, feigning bravado. Squaring her shoulders, she nods. “Right. Okay. A coffee. I can do that.”
I milk my time in the diner. It gives me the perfect view of Selene as she works. She sends furtive glances my way often, probably wondering when I’ll leave, but I’m enjoying myself far too much. It doesn’t escape my notice the way men in the diner watch her. She’s beautiful, so it’s not like I blame them, but I can’t ignore the ball of anger that turns my gut at their coveted glances. I try to rationalize what the hell the sensation could be, and I realize it’s jealousy. I’m jealous of every man in here who gets to stare at her. I’m jealous they get any of her time at all. I want it all. I want all of her.
I’m a selfish fucking bastard, and I don’t give a damn.
I think about the man she had a kid with. I try to envision what he would’ve been like. Did she love him? Was it serious? And my biggest issue is, will he ever come back? Is that who she is waiting for—Luna’s father to pull his head out of his ass, so they can finally be together? I hope not.
When the guys text me, asking where I am, I decide to call it a night. I’ve spent enough time sitting here, thinking about all the ways this woman invades every part of my brain.
I pay the bill and leave a tip on the table, which is more than triple the bill. The bell chimes as I walk out toward the truck, and once I’m about to climb in, I hear the door chime again, followed by soft footsteps.
“End, wait!” Selene calls after me. I pause with my hand still gripping the handle on the truck and turn. Her lips are pursed, the lines around her eyes tight with frustration.
“Here. I can’t take this,” she says, passing the hundred-dollar bill back to me. I keep my hands just where they are, refusing to take it back.
“Yes, you can.”
“End,” she says, her voice growing stern. “This is a hundred-dollar tip. All you had was coffee that was left untouched.”
I shrug. “And it was the best damn coffee I’ve ever had.”
She growls in frustration. “Would you have given Rita this same tip if she was the one serving you?”
A smirk twists the corner of my mouth. “No, I wouldn’t have, because Rita isn’t you.”
“I—wait, what?”
My grin widens. The effect of it seems to catch her off guard, and her slender throat works a thick swallow. Slowly, I close the distance between us and wrap my hand around hers, softly tucking the money back into her palm. Her skin is soft, so fucking smooth, and I find myself wanting to hang on. Hang on to that electricity coursing through my veins. Hang on to that look in her eyes. Hang on to everything about her.
“It’s yours, Selene.” She stares up at me, hazel eyes so soft, I practically fucking melt into a puddle right then and there. “See you tomorrow.” Before I can think better of it, I lean forward, and as much as I’d like to aim for her bee-stung lips, I decide not to. Instead, I press a soft kiss on her cheek, enjoying the way her skin feels against mine. I get a whiff of her scent, and fuck me, she’s absolutely divine this close. In every shape and form.
I hear her soft intake of breath, and if I’m not mistaken, I swear she even leans into the kiss like she wants more. That could just be my mind playing tricks on me, though.
I step away, my grin still glued to my face as I back up toward the truck. She’s frozen in place, still standing there, mouth agape, staring after me as though I’ve done the craziest thing in the world. And hell, maybe I have.
“Can someone please tell me why we’re here in this shithole instead of back at my place, watching the game?” Bishop complains for what feels like the tenth time within the past few minutes. The guys—and by the guys, I mean Landon—wanted to come to the bar and shoot the shit, play pool, and watch the game instead of at Bishop’s place like we normally do. I personally think he’s here for other reasons.
“Probably because our boy Landon here wants to get laid, and he can’t do that hanging out at your place all night.”
Landon shoots me a glare for calling him out. Now, if we can just figure out who he’s trying to seal the deal with tonight.
“How about you fuck off, yeah? You’ve been buying the same chick flowers for what, the past ten days, and she still keeps saying no. Don’t give me shit. You guys should be giving End shit.”
I roll my eyes.
“He’s not the one that dragged us here tonight, asshole,” Griffin retorts.
“Thank you!” Bishop slams a meaty hand down on the bar top, happy one of us has some sense.
“What the hell are y’all even complaining about? The game is on right here!” Landon points at the TV with frustration.
We all shoot him a glower.
“Bert hasn’t upgraded this TV in years. So, yeah, excuse me if I’m pissed off that I have to watch the game on this shit box instead of on a flat screen like a normal person. I mean, Christ, who doesn’t own a flat screen? It’s fucking 2020!”
I can’t really argue with that.
Bert, the owner of Bert’s Pub, has owned this place since what feels like the dawn of time. His father, Bert Sr., opened the pub years ago, and Bert took over for his father when he passed. I’m not kidding when I say everything is the same as it was years ago. There have been minor changes we’ve done for Bert, but for the most part, this place is like stepping back into the 80s sprinkled with a dash of 70s flavor.
It’s a goddamn time machine.
It has character, I’ll give it that. It’s a staple here, just like so many other places. A part of this town’s history, a core place where the locals flock for good conversation and a fun night out. I glance around, taking in everyone crowded at the bar and the surrounding tables. There are about five pool tables in total, each one in use, including the one we’re using. The bar is made up of worn oak that gives it character, telling the story of just how long Bert’s has been around. The stools are black and red, the red cushions are a bit worn, but they’re still comfortable, nonetheless.
The décor is much as you’d expect—local sports teams’ banners hanging, a Bud Light neon sign hangs in the front window right next to the open sign, and the TVs are all these old, pieces of shit that no one hardly looks at. Do the people in this generation even know what it’s like to go most of your childhood watching something in SD? Before HD was even a thing? Probably not.
Music floats from the speakers, and I’m just glad it isn’t country. That’s where I draw the line in this fucking town.
Bishop cues the balls on the table, before taking the first shot. The lou
d crack reverberates between us, scattering the balls along the velvet surface.
“So, who is she? Might as well tell us now. We’re going to find out eventually,” Bishop demands with a bit of an attitude. If there was a surefire way to piss off Bishop, it would be ruining baseball for him, and tonight, Landon has committed a cardinal sin in his world.
Landon sighs. Picking up his pool stick, he angles himself over the table and takes his shot. Just as the white ball connects with his intended solid color, he mumbles a name under his breath. We all pause, our eyes widening. I share a look with the rest of the guys, and they burst into laughter. Bishop clutches his stomach, howling with hysterics, and Griffin damn near has tears rolling down his cheeks. I hide my laughter behind my hand, thinking about the other night with Selene and the bags of dildos she got from Beth-Ann’s party. I guess Landon’s in for a treat with her.
“Well, tonight just got interesting,” Griffin mumbles aloud, gaze pinned to the entrance. When I follow the trajectory, I see why.
Beth-Ann, her sister Julia, and Selene, of all people, step over the threshold. Something weaves its way through the air, a static electricity I can feel swimming through my veins. I straighten on the stool, my gaze glued to Selene. Her hair is down, hanging around her back in a soft curtain of waves that I’m itching to drag my hand through. Her creamy skin is on display in the dress she’s wearing. Heat shoots through my body as I take her in. She looks beautiful tonight, but that’s not new. She always looks beautiful. Her dress is a virginal white, off-the-shoulder number that’s cinched at the waist, making her look tinier than I remember. Her heels make her legs look like they go on for miles.
I find myself sliding off the barstool, weaving through Bert’s, just to get close to her. She must sense me coming, or her friends tell her, because she swings her gaze toward me, our eyes homing in on each other. A ripple shoots down my spine, the sensation otherworldly. It’s odd and foreign, and I’m certain she feels it, too. Her lips part, and I notice the way her chest rises and falls sharply at my presence. It’s that awareness. That current between us that’s impossible to ignore.
