He just says, “Because it would be easier that way,” and takes my hand in his and leads me along the beach.
I like this better.
*****
“What do you think hurts more, a tattoo or anal?” Christina asks, making me choke on my morning coffee.
“What the hell made you ask that? Jesus, Christina. You’re lucky there are no customers in right now.” I groan, shaking my head at her.
“Okay, stop acting like a prude. I’m asking because I’m curious. I’d like to do both in the future, and I’m wondering which one I should tackle first. The one that hurts the least, right?”
“I’ve never done either of them, so why are you asking me?” I ask her, unable to hold in my laughter. “Seriously, the shit you say. We need our own reality TV show.”
She grins and agrees. “We do. Especially now that we have some eye candy.”
She told me all about her time with Spencer, and yes, they did end up sleeping together. Apparently he’s a god in bed—her words not mine—and they are seeing each other again tonight. I told her about my time with Sylar, which was much more innocent. We spent the day talking and getting to know each other. We held hands. We flirted. But that’s it. And that’s okay with me. In fact, it was perfect.
He didn’t ask for my number though, so I don’t know when we’re going to see each other again. I just know that we will.
“I say go for the tattoo first,” I tell her, winking.
“Yeah, okay,” she says, touching her shoulder. “I want a sleeve, so it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”
Elijah walks out the front at that moment, smirking at Christina. “How high is your pain tolerance?”
She winces, and I start laughing again. “She started crying the other day because her nail broke.”
“Hey! That hurt really badly, okay? Half of it pretty much ripped off!” she says defensively, looking at her fingernail. “Bree wouldn’t even take me to the emergency room. What kind of friend is she?”
“A normal one,” Elijah says, shaking his head. “Maybe start with a small butterfly or something, instead of going for a sleeve to take your virginity.”
“I cried during that too,” she says, smirking at both of us. “It hurt.”
Elijah rubs the back of his neck. “I feel like we need some boundaries in here.”
“Face it, we have none,” I say, returning to wiping down the counter. “At least Charlie isn’t in today, to hear her carrying on. He’d probably run out in front of a car. I’ve had to listen to her describe her sexcapades in detail. Details, Elijah. I don’t want to know how many times my best friend can come in one night.”
She holds up four fingers.
Elijah winces and scrubs a hand down his face. “Yeah, okay. I’m going to go out the back now.”
He turns and leaves.
I put the cloth down and cross my arms over my chest. “Did Spencer say anything about Sylar?”
“Nope, but he seemed happy to see the two of you together,” she says, resting her hip against the counter. “I get the feeling he’s a bit of a loner.”
“Did you admit to Spencer that there was no missing cat?” I ask, since I forgot to before.
“No,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t want him to think I’m crazy. He can never know the truth. As far as he’s concerned, I lost my ginger cat named Kitty, and although a sad and traumatic event, it brought the two of us back together.”
“Did he say why he didn’t call in the first place?”
“He said he lost my number,” she says, shrugging. “I don’t know if that’s true or not, but when he opened the door, he looked happy and surprised to see me. Let’s just enjoy what time we have with them, Bree, because I think we both know these men aren’t the type to stick around long-term. Spencer is here for a good time, not a long time, and Sylar…. I don’t know what he is, but he will go where his brother does.”
Her words are probably true, and I don’t like the idea of Sylar leaving town, but it is what it is.
“By the way, you realize that you just had your first day date, right?” she says, arching her brow. “Not a drop of alcohol involved.”
“I guess you’re right,” I murmur, wondering what makes Sylar so different. He’s my exception, it seems, and it’s quite a scary thought that he already has a hold over me. I don’t like it, but I crave it at the same time. I haven’t felt in so long. Anything. I haven’t felt anything. I think that’s why I crave him so much, because around him, I feel. Why does that feel like I’m using him or something? I don’t even know. It’s like I’ve been living in black and white, but he’s brought back colour. I don’t want anyone to have power over me again, but I don’t want to go back to how I was living before I laid eyes on him, either. If I’m feeling like this after spending just one day with him, how deep am I going to get as we go on? Opening yourself up is such a gamble, and I don’t know how anyone does it these days.
Maybe they just need to find their exception.
Christina closes the space between us and cups my cheeks with her palms. “My baby is all grown up.”
“Because I went on a date that I wasn’t drunk on?”
“Yep.”
I smile, my cheeks going all squishy with her hands still on my face. “That’s pretty sad.”
“You were a sad woman,” she says, letting go of my face with a cheeky grin.
Customers start to file in, and we all go into work mode.
Yet, in the back of the mind, pale blue eyes never seem to fade.
*****
“Hey,” I say, smiling when Spencer walks into the café just as I’m about to close up. He’s my last customer for the day. Sylar came in earlier, but the place was packed so I didn’t get to chat. Still, in the few moments he was in here, I couldn’t stop smiling. I saw him smile once, too. He was wearing all black as usual, but jeans and a V-neck T-shirt this time. He looked good.
“You’re just in time. Five more minutes and I would have been closed,” I say, standing at the counter. “Do you want the usual?”
“Yes, please,” he says, studying me. Spencer is a less intense version of his brother, but I can tell that underneath, he isn’t all charm and gentle nature.
“One or two?” I ask, wondering if Sylar wants another.
“Two, just to be safe,” he says, drumming his fingers on the counter. “So, Brielle,” he starts, and I know he wants to talk about something.
“Yeah?” I ask, giving him my full attention.
“Sylar,” he says, shifting on his feet. “He doesn’t usually show interest. In anyone, or anything… and—”
“I’m not going to hurt your brother, Spencer,” I say, assuming that is what he’s getting at, but as the words leave my mouth, I realize how egotistical they sound, like I’m assuming I have the power to do so. “If that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says, but still looks a little worried, his brow furrowed. “I’m glad he’s actually speaking to you and everything, I just don’t want it to backfire.” He puts his hands up. “Not saying that you don’t seem like a nice girl…. Ah, fuck. I’m messing this up, aren’t I? And if he finds out I said anything, the bastard will kill me with his bare hands.”
“You don’t want what to backfire?” I ask, brow furrowing.
“Him opening up,” he says, wincing. “And me encouraging it.”
My lip twitches. “It’s okay, Spencer. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Good,” he says, smiling as I slide his coffees over to him. He tries to pay, but I don’t accept it, just like I did with Sylar today.
“On the house.”
He leaves the money on the table. “Not happening. Thank you, though.”
I roll my eyes. Sylar did the exact same thing. I walk him to the door, then lock it behind him.
He wants to protect Sylar from me?
I think it’s me who is going to need the protecting.
Chapter Eight
“Why does everyone act like I suck men’s souls as a hobby?” Christina asks, pursing her pouty lips. “I have the least hearts in my jar.” She looks at me. “In fact, you have more.”
“I do not,” I say defensively, although she’s probably right. After Eric, I did break more than a few hearts, not on purpose, but because I had no idea who I was or what I wanted then. I was selfish, and I shouldn’t have been dating at all. All I wanted was a distraction; my heart was broken and therefore no one else could touch it. I was safe, but I was also cold, and the men I dated didn’t deserve that. No one does.
“You so do,” she says, licking her ice-cream cone. “Charlie sent me out of the house because his friends are coming over. What am I going to do to his friends, exactly?”
“He probably doesn’t want to see them check you out,” I say, smirking. “Aren’t his friends all nerds? You’re probably the first woman they’ll have seen up close in real life.”
“Nerdy guys are hot,” Christina says, eyes going wide. “But I’d never go near any of his friends, just like I’d expect the same from him with my friends.” She looks at me. “Not that I have many apart from you.”
“And Charlie is safe from me,” I add with a smirk, changing the channel on the TV.
“Everyone is besides Sylar,” she teases, biting into the crunchy ice-cream cone. “Oh by the way, I invited him and Spencer over here for drinks tonight.”
“What?” I yell, jumping up off the couch. “Please tell me you’re joking. Is this you trying to be funny?”
She starts laughing. “Calm down. The house is clean.”
I glance around frantically. “The house is friends-visiting-level clean, it’s not Sylar-level clean. There’s a huge difference.”
She watches with dry amusement as I rush around, cleaning the house, shoving things into drawers so it looks less cluttered, and trying to make the house look like no one lives here.
“You have serious issues,” she mutters, tidying up the pillows on the couch for me. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d go straight into a cleaning frenzy and panic mode. Relax. Your house is clean, and I don’t think he’d really care if it wasn’t perfect.”
“It’s about me caring, not him,” I say, dusting a table. “I need it to be clean.” I pause. “If they’re coming over for drinks, don’t we need to actually go out and buy some?”
“Probably a good idea,” she says, wincing. She then stands and grabs her keys. “I’ll do a store run. What do we need?”
Sylar doesn’t drink alcohol, so what would he have instead? Juice? Coffee? I can’t imagine him sitting there, all manly looking with a mocktail in his hand. The mere thought makes me laugh.
“Are you losing your mind over boys coming over to chill?” Christina asks me, being dead serious.
I roll my eyes at her, then grab a piece of paper and write up a quick list. When I hand it to her, she reaches out and pats my arm. “It will be okay, Bree. I’ve got this.”
I wave her away and continue to clean. This is the first time Sylar will be coming to my house, and fuck me if I don’t want to make a good impression. Should I cook something? Men like food. Or is that putting in too much effort? I probably shouldn’t set unrealistic expectations, because I don’t cook that much. Okay I’m definitely overthinking this. I finish tidying up and then wait for Christina to return with the goods. Now that the place is clean, I can look forward to having Sylar in my space. He didn’t come in last time, even though he said he wanted to check out the work that needs to be done, and I was happy that he didn’t. I like to be prepared for these things. When Christina takes longer than I thought she would, I decide to jump in the shower.
Might as well start getting pretty.
*****
I’m in my towel when I hear her in the kitchen, so I venture out. “Hey, what took you so long?” I ask, combing my damp hair with my fingers. I come to a standstill when I see not just Christina in the kitchen, but Sylar and Spencer as well.
Fuck.
I look down, making sure the towel is indeed covering my breasts.
“Look who I ran into,” Christina says, cringing.
“Great welcome,” Spencer says, eyes wide.
Sylar slaps him on the back of his head, gets up, and blocks the view of me with his huge body, his back to the others. Looking down at me, he murmurs, “You going to go put some clothes on, or just stand there looking like a deer in headlights?”
“The former, I guess,” I say, peering over his body to flash an evil look in my best friend’s direction.
She could have warned me!
“Come on,” he says, turning me around and pushing me with a hand on the small of my back. I walk to my room, and he comes in and closes the door behind him. “She tried to call you and tell you we were coming, but you didn’t answer.”
“Oh,” I say, licking my suddenly dry lips.
He’s in my room.
I’m in nothing but a towel.
And I haven’t had sex in a very long time.
And it’s not just any guy—it’s him.
I swallow hard, and tighten the towel around me. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I meant in my house, but did it sound like I meant in my room?
He closes the space between us and cups my face. “You look beautiful with no make-up on.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, my heart starting to race.
“Get dressed. I just wanted to warn you that my brother bought Christina a kitten to replace the pet she lost. He’s going to give it to her tonight.”
“He got her a kitten?” I ask, not sure that I heard right.
Sylar nods. “She was upset, so….”
He shrugs, smiles, then leaves my room.
He got her a kitten.
She hates cats.
I smirk. I’m going to enjoy watching this play out.
*****
I re-emerge in jeans and a white T-shirt, and Christina hands me a glass of red wine as I sit down next to Sylar on the couch. A movie is playing, and there are drinks and a platter on the table. She has done well hosting in my absence.
“So Spencer apparently has a surprise for me,” she says, smiling and snuggling up to him.
I nod, but couldn’t contain my smirk if I tried. “Can’t wait to hear all about it.”
Sylar hides his grin behind his glass of what looks like orange juice. Meanwhile, Spencer is practically inhaling his beer. Apparently he has no problems with alcohol. I sit back and realize how weird this situation actually is, two best friends and two brothers hanging out. Those two all over each other while Sylar and I have no idea what to do with each other. Maybe he just wants to be friends; I don’t know. I get mixed signals from him, and I have absolutely no clue what goes on in that mind of his.
“I had a little look around,” Sylar says to me, bringing my attention back to him. “I can definitely help you fix this place up, if you want me to.”
“Okay,” I say, flashing him a small smile. While Christina and Spencer disappear into their own world, Sylar and I do the same. I move a little closer to him, so my thigh is touching his, and lay my head back. “Did you finish everything you had to do yesterday?”
He nods. “I did. The café was busy when I came in. I’m happy you’re doing so well.”
“We have a morning and lunch rush every day,” I explain. “I try and make sure we have two people out the back and two out the front when it hits, but sometimes I get the timing wrong.” I take a sip of my wine then continue, “Running a business isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”
Humour dances in his eyes. “I don’t think it’s meant to be fun, Brielle. It’s meant to be profitable.”
“Can’t it be both?”
“It seems like you’ve made it that way. I remember walking in one morning and seeing you and Christina singing into a broom.”
I wince, remembering that morning. “Great, we’re unprofessional, too. When th
e place is empty, we do tend to mess around a little, but whenever we have customers around we’re on our best behaviour.”
“They love your coffee around here,” he says, putting his glass down on my coffee table. “How do you think I found you in the first place? I went to pump some petrol and the man at the counter kept raving on about the best coffee place in town.”
I’m pretty sure that man is my uncle, and he’s biased, but I smile at his compliment. “Well, I’m glad you decided to give it a try.”
“Me too.”
“Why are you single?” I ask softly, using the question he asked me on the beach.
“If someone as perfect as you is single, what kind of chance is there for a man like me?” he asks, watching me. The look in his eyes is curious, intense. He’s serious, but he wants to know what I think. I think that he’s intrigued by me, but he doesn’t know if he’s making a mistake by being here tonight. I feel like he struggles with himself every time he sees me. I don’t like that, and I don’t want him to do that. He doesn’t want to regret his decisions, but neither do I.
“And what kind of man is that?” I ask, looking up at him through my lashes.
“Not a good one,” he replies simply, like he’s reciting a fact. He truly thinks he is a bad man.
“Will you tell me why you think that?” I ask, wishing to know.
He looks down at his hands and turns them over so they’re palm up. “I’ve just done bad things, Brielle. I want to move forward now, but it’s hard.”
“Maybe I can help you,” I say, and clear my throat. I realize how stupid that might sound, but I mean it. I’d help him in any way I can. “I mean, I can listen if you need someone to talk to. With no judgment.”
His lips tighten. “You’re the last person I’d want to have hear about these things, Brielle.”
“I shouldn’t be,” I say, taking his hand in mine and squeezing gently. “Tell me something about you, Sylar.”
“I’d much rather hear about you,” he says, running his thumb over my knuckles.
“How about I start, but then you have to give me something. It doesn’t need to be deep. It could be something small, like your favourite colour or the places you’ve travelled to,” I say, expression gentle.
See No Evil: Part One (See No Evil #1) Page 5
