“What’s your name?” I find myself asking. He lifts his head, blue eyes hitting me full force as he finally looks me directly in the eye for the first time. He’s handsome. His eyes are beautiful. Sure, he could use a shave and a haircut, but he’s still a very ruggedly good-looking man. His shoulders are broad, and I can just tell he’s got a good body under his faded black T-shirt.
“Sylar,” he says in his deep husky tone.
Unusual name for an unusual man.
“I’m Bree,” I say, smiling at him. “Well, my full name is Brielle, but everyone calls me Bree.” Great, now I’m rambling. I clear my throat. “Five dollars, thank you.”
He hands me the money, and as usual, declines when I try to give him back his change.
“Thank you, Sylar. I hope you have a good day,” I say, wondering what he does for a living to tip so highly every time. I mean, it might not be much to some people, but essentially he pays double for his coffee with his tip every time, when he doesn’t have to. I want to ask him, but I think I’ve exhausted my limit on questions for the day. He dips his head at me and leaves the café. I watch him until he disappears.
Sylar.
I don’t know who he is, or what he does, or what his story is.
But I want to find out.
*****
When he comes in the next morning, I flash him a smile and start to make his coffee before he even orders. This time though, when he tries to pay, I tell him, “It’s on the house today.”
He looks confused for a moment. “What?”
“Well,” I say, licking my lips. “You’re always nice and tip, so I thought today I’d return the niceness and give you a free coffee.”
Is niceness a word?
Great, I’m making up words now.
Why do I feel a little nervous?
I’m not usually the type who gets like this when talking to men. I usually don’t care. It’s hard for anyone to get a reaction out of me, penis or not, but right now I just really want him to chat to me.
He studies me for a moment, blinking slowly. “Why are you alone here in the mornings? It’s not safe.”
I shift on my feet. “Why isn’t it safe?”
“It’s just not,” he says, shrugging like he couldn’t care less, but why did he even make that comment then?
He suddenly looks a little uncomfortable when he adds, “You’re an… attractive woman, and you shouldn’t be here alone.”
Instead of getting angry at him telling me what I should or shouldn’t be doing, I can’t help but feel a little amused. And happy that he finds me attractive.
“Are you new to town?” I ask him, knowing that has to be the case.
He nods, then watches as I slide his coffee to him. “Hope you have a good day.”
He takes the coffee, but then places a ten-dollar note on the table. Before I can open my mouth to object, he gives me his back as he exits.
Elijah is the first to show up to the café. Covered in tattoos and piercings, the man is way too overqualified for this job, with two degrees under his belt, but shows up here every day anyway.
“Hey, Elijah,” I say, smiling at him. He looks tired, with bags under his eyes. He must be so drained, working a full day then going home to look after his elderly mother. I’ve never asked him why he doesn’t put her in a home, but either he refuses to on principal or it’s too costly. Each day I tell him to take whatever food he wants for himself and his mother. I also drop by some nights with food I’ve made from home, just so it’s one less thing for him to worry about.
“Morning, Bree.” He winks a blue eye at me. “Busy morning?”
“Same as usual,” I reply on a sigh. “Which is a big not at all.”
“Hopefully it will pick up now,” he says, making himself a cup of coffee. “Do you want me to do the stocktake today, or do you want to do it?”
I think it over. “I’ll do it. Christina and Tori can man the front, and you can make the sandwiches out back.”
“Sounds good,” he says, moaning as he takes his first sip. “This is definitely going to get me through the day.”
“Glad you approve of the product.” I grin up at him. I then dare to ask, “Hey, do you know anything about the guy who comes in every morning?”
“Which one?” he asks, arching a brow.
“The only man in town who has more tattoos than you.” I lean back on the counter.
“Oh, right, him,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Nothing… yet. It’s only time before something comes out though.” He pauses, then adds, “Talk about stealing my thunder as the black sheep of the town.”
I laugh at that. “I can’t believe that thought even crossed your mind. That’s hilarious.”
He puts a hairnet over his dark hair then washes his hands with soap, getting ready to start doing some work. “It’s true though. Why are you asking about him? Got a taste for the bad boys, hey? If so, there’s one standing right in front of you that you could give a try.”
I roll my eyes. “Why, Elijah, are you hitting on your boss?”
He likes to play around with me, but he never crosses any boundaries, nor is he serious. In fact, I think he has a crush on Sharon, the girl who works for Paul, although he’ll never admit it.
He shakes his head no, then says, “Yes” out loud.
Laughter escapes me. “Come back when you’re grown, kid. So in about ten years.”
He sticks his chest out. “I’m twenty-three, not eighteen. I tie my own shoes and everything.”
“All the same to me,” I say with a cheeky grin. “I feel like all those piercings are compensating for a lack of something else….” I point to his lip ring and eyebrow ring.
He doesn’t get mad at my comment, he simply smirks. “Be more than happy to prove that theory wrong.”
I playfully nudge him. “I think I’ll just take your word for it.”
Christina and Charlie walk in, the two of them chatting with each other.
“Morning, Bree,” she says, smiling. She hands me a brown bag from a local fast-food restaurant. “I brought you breakfast. There’s some in there for you too, Elijah.”
I look in the bag and grin. We do serve food here, sandwiches, rolls, and cakes, but I do love something different, especially these hash browns and bagels.
“Thanks,” I say, placing the bag below the counter so none of the patrons can see it. It wouldn’t exactly be good for business if any of us are seen eating from elsewhere, even if we’re essentially just a coffee stop.
Elijah grabs the bag, grins, and heads into the back with it.
“You’re welcome!” Christina calls out after him, then brings her eyes to me. “Guess what just happened?”
“Fuck’s sake, don’t make me relive it,” Charlie grumbles, scowling at his baby sister of three minutes. He follows Elijah, disappearing into the back, while I lean on the counter, waiting for her to continue.
“We stopped to get petrol, and there was this hot-ass guy in the car behind us.” She puts up her hand when I’m about to ask a question. “No idea who he was, and haven’t seen him around town.”
“Passing through?” I ask, which is probable. All the good ones usually are.
“I don’t know,” she says. “But I quickly got out to put petrol in before Charlie did, and he was fully checking me out. So I smiled and wished him a good morning.”
“And?”
“And he told me that I have a beautiful smile and asked for my number,” she says, smiling dreamily, her hand on her chest. Her smile suddenly turns into a glare. “He was putting my number into his phone when Charlie started beeping the horn. It was so embarrassing!”
I laugh as I picture that playing out. “You know how he gets weird about you and men. He’s just being a typical protective brother.”
Not that I know that from my own experience, but I know how much Charlie loves his sister. If I had a sibling, I’d want to protect them too. And fuckboys are a real danger these days—that I do
know from experience.
“Yeah, I know,” she grumbles. “I’m twenty-five now though. At least he doesn’t try and beat them up like he did in high school.”
“There you go, look at the positives,” I tease with a grin. I know it must be a pain to have to deal with Charlie, but the truth is, I’d love to have someone who cared about me like that. I find being an only child rather boring, and my childhood was spent mostly amusing myself. My parents are amazing ones, but they did work a lot, and were always busy.
“Now I just have to wait for him to call,” she says, eyes sparkling. “You should have seen him, Bree. Dark hair, stubble, tall, perfect build. He’s a dreamboat.”
“Sounds like a heartbreaker to me,” I say, earning myself an eye roll. There’s a type of man one should avoid, and they come in a package like the one she just mentioned. They are good-looking, confident, charismatic, and know exactly what to say and do. They pull you into their game, complete with head fucks and mind-blowing sex, and make you question yourself. About everything.
“You’re too young for such cynicism, Bree,” she says, and not for the first time. “And even if he is a heartbreaker, I’m not looking for someone to marry. I haven’t had sex in six months and—”
“Jesus Christ.” I hear Charlie groan as he walks into the front, catching his sister’s last line. “I really don’t want to know that shit, Chris.”
She rolls her eyes again. “We live together, Charlie. It’s not like I don’t see you bring girls home. Quit it with the double standards.”
He looks at me, cringing. “I need a raise. To move out and get my own place.”
I laugh. I wish I could give him a raise. Unfortunately, this place only just makes enough to get by. I need something, an idea, to make more profit, but until I come up with it, we’re all stuck here, barely making ends meet. I’m lucky—my parents left me their house, too. And it’s paid off, so I don’t have to worry about a mortgage. Christina and Charlie are renting.
“You can move in with me,” I tell Christina. “You can bring as many men as you like home. I’ll wear my earphones.”
“I hate you guys,” Charlie says with no heat, scrubbing his hand down his face. “And maybe that is a good idea. Then I can turn my place into a bachelor pad.”
“It’s practically one now,” Christina grumbles. “He leaves pizza boxes everywhere, and some mornings there are random women standing in my kitchen. How is that not a bachelor pad?”
“Because you decorated it,” he points out. “I want less colourful pillows and shit, and a more minimalistic look.”
Christina blinks slowly, then turns to look at me. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”
“Those pillows are pretty fruity,” I hesitantly say, unable to keep a straight face.
Charlie barks out a laugh while his sister narrows her brown eyes on me.
Just as she’s about to speak, the bell rings as two customers enter, and everyone quickly disappears to where they’re supposed to be.
Time to work.
Chapter Three
“You’re early today,” I note as Sylar walks into the café just as I open the next morning.
He arches a dark, thick brow. “I didn’t realize I had an exact time that I came in.”
I can feel my cheeks heat as I give away the fact that I noticed this. Yeah, I pay attention to these things, sue me. I shrug, trying to play it off. “It’s my job to pay attention to my customers’ needs.”
Oh fuck.
Did I just say that?
Did that just sound like…?
Okay, now I know I’m blushing, and I know he can see it. He doesn’t say anything though, nor does his expression give anything away. He just studies me, waiting.
Oh, right. I should probably do my job.
I clear my throat. “What can I get you? The usual?”
“Two, please,” he says, pulling his wallet out.
“Two long blacks?” I confirm, wondering who the other one is for. Or does he plan to drink two?
He nods and places a twenty on the table. I glance up at him whilst I’m getting his order. “Been in town long?”
He shakes his head, but doesn’t elaborate. Finding out information about him is like pulling teeth, and it just makes me more curious.
“Do you live here?” I pry, wondering if he is just passing through. “Or are you here for work or something?”
“I just moved here,” he says, shifting on his feet, as if uncomfortable. “Kind of like an early retirement.”
My eyebrows rise. He looks like he’s about thirty years old, midthirties at the oldest. How can he be retiring? Maybe he’s making a joke. I eye his expression. No, there’s no joking there. I wonder if he’s ever told a joke his whole life. I doubt he’s going to have any laugh lines appear anytime soon. Maybe he’s rich, or has a trust fund or something. I don’t ask. Money is a subject most people don’t feel comfortable talking about, and I don’t want to make him not want to come here anymore because I ask so many questions.
“I hope you like it here,” I settle on saying, smiling and placing his two coffees in a tray and handing it to him.
He glances around the café. “This place is yours?”
I nod. “Yeah, it’s a family business.” I tilt my head to the side. “Or at least it was. I run it alone now.”
“Where are your parents?” he asks, blue eyes pinned on me yet giving nothing away. I’ve never spoken to anyone who hides his emotions so well before. Nothing plays out on his face, and I have to wonder why that is. What is it about this man that has me so curious? Is it because he’s such a mystery? He’s definitely not my type. I don’t go for the ones that give off an alpha male vibe. At least I don’t anymore.
“Retired,” I say, smirking. “They waited a little longer than you did.”
His lip twitches, and I feel like I’ve accomplished something huge. A tiny reaction, but a good one nonetheless. “I’m still working, just a change in career paths, I guess you can say. I’m doing some construction work now.”
“Cool,” I say, tucking his change money into the tray so he can’t try and give me another tip. “I’m trying to renovate my house right now. Doing a questionable job, but I’m trying.”
His eyes widen. “By yourself?”
I nod.
He shifts on his feet, looks towards the door, then back at me. “You don’t have a man?”
I shake my head. “No man. How about you, are you single?”
I hope he is, although I don’t know why. It’s not like anything will come out of this; he’s a customer, and obviously not much of a people person, although he seems to be opening up to me. Maybe that’s why I’m so interested. I don’t know.
He barks out a short laugh, one that sounds more bitter than anything. “Yeah. I don’t have a woman.”
“Oh,” I say, clearing my throat. “Maybe you’ll meet a nice woman here then.”
Maybe he’s already met her.
Again—what the fuck?
Since Eric broke my heart, I’ve never been the same again. I don’t trust like I did, and like Christina says, I’ve become cynical. Both men and women get their hearts broken every day, and they still love again, so I don’t know why I’ve found it so hard to handle. I loved him so much, with the very essence of my being, and now I’m scared to love again. It means giving my power away, and I’m not ready to do that. When Eric cheated, my whole mindset changed. When he got the woman he cheated with pregnant, and married her, my whole world exploded. After I’d invested years into us, planning for the future, I suddenly had a fresh start I never asked for or deserved. And now? Some people think I’m cold, but I’m not.
I’m just careful with who I let in.
The men I’ve dated casually since him have been gentler, softer men. Regular men, slightly on the boring side, more safe than anything. The problem with that? They can’t seem to hold my attention. I don’t claim to be a prize of any kind. I’m pretty, not amazing
; I’m smart, not magnificent. I’m a good woman, or at least I was. My heart is still good, it’s just a little bruised. It beats the same though.
I’m sure the old me is still in there somewhere. The romantic. The woman who thought she was going to be with one man for the rest of her life. I wanted the big wedding, the white picket fence, and the two-point-five children. I wanted it all. And now? I don’t know what I want. I’m single, childless, and running the café, still stuck in my hometown. I’m not where I thought I’d be, but maybe this is where I’m meant to be. Eric may be gone now, but his memory still lingers, like a poison in my veins. The local bad boy, the one I thought I’d tamed, rode off on his motorbike without me. I’m still here, though. I was left behind to pick up the pieces, and I have.
I thought I’d buried my craving for men like Eric, the strong, mysterious, badass kind, but I guess I’m not as smart as I think I am, because there’s nothing I’d like to do more than talk to this man. I want to find out everything about him. I want to ask questions with no restrictions. I don’t want to bite my tongue. I want to discover who he is. I want to know why he’s caught my eye.
Sylar—the man before me—is not a safe man.
“I don’t know about that,” he murmurs, then looks me in the eye. “Brielle.”
I smile. He remembered my name. And my full name, not the nickname everyone calls me.
He picks up the tray on the counter, and places the ten-dollar note back on the table.
“Have a good day,” he says, ducking his head before I’m able to say it first, leaving me with a smile on my face. I watch him exit, taking him in from his thick head of hair to his broad shoulders and narrowed hips. He has dressed a little better today, his clothes more fitting. He definitely has a good body under there. I look through the window and watch as he gets into his truck and drives off.
“Caught in the act,” Christina says as she walks in, smirking.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I murmur, grabbing a cloth and wiping down the counter.
“You were totally checking creepy hot guy out,” she says, coming to the counter as a customer would. “You have weird taste, you know that? He looks like he could be a Viking or something.”
See No Evil: Part One (See No Evil #1) Page 2
