“Something tells me you’re not talking about cured meats,” I said before slapping his hand away from my olives.
“I knew you were smart.”
I swallowed the olive I’d snatched from his hand and glared at him, while mouthing, “Mine.”
“Funny, that’s what I was thinking, too,” he said, looking directly at me.
I squirmed a little in my seat. “Don’t you think you want to get to know me a little more before you make such bold statements?” I asked, feeling unnerved yet again.
“Andra. I already know so much about you.” When I reached to slap his hand away from the olives again, he grabbed my hand and held it still a moment. Turning my hand over, palm up, I watched as he ran a finger from my wrist and across my palm. I looked up to see his gaze, once-again, directly on me. “I know your name is Andra Walker and you love the color red, not because it’s ‘pretty,’ but because it has deep significance for you. You don’t mind salad, but given the choice, you’ll order steak every time. I know your hair smells like clementines and I don’t need to try to impress you with a fancy meal.” He started drawing circles on my palm with his thumb. “I know that you choose to cushion your head with grass in lieu of a pillow when you pray. I know you don’t deprive yourself the more delicious things in life and you have fantastic taste in music. I know that you are funny, smart, and mesmerizing, the latter especially in candlelight. I know that your eyes betray what you’re really feeling, and your pulse jumps when I lower my voice. Just. Like. This.” His voice was thick on the last three words, his enunciation forceful. His thumb caressed the skin on the inside of my wrist, proving his last statement.
He pulled back, both in his body language and with the hand that cradled mine, breaking the connection. The physical connection, that is, because the emotional connection was still resilient, stubbornly so. Keeping eye contact with him, not willing to be the first to break, I took the final sip left of my beer.
“My hair smells like fruit?” I asked, effectively breaking the spell he had on me. A smirk played across his lips in response as I tugged the hair I had over my bare shoulder and sniffed it, conspicuously.
He took the final sip of his wine and lifted his eyebrows. “Indeed, it does.”
Our waiter came out of the corner he had to be hiding in, refilling Julian’s glass without asking and placing another beer next to my empty one. Julian popped some mozzarella in his mouth and chewed, that smirk still tugging at his lips. I snagged a slice of prosciutto and chewed; a mirror image of him.
I sipped my fresh beer and gestured my hand across the table. “So, Julian. I’d like to know more about you. When did you learn to ride your bike? And tell me your favorites.”
Julian snagged the last olive before I could stop him, chewing it slowly, blatantly savoring it just to annoy me. “I can’t tell you when I rode my first bike – I don’t remember the experience. I was young, definitely.” He sipped more wine before snagging more mozzarella. “My favorite color is white. Not for any really profound reason.” I knew my skin flushed in remembrance of my declaration for the color red. “White is clean, a fresh start. I don’t look at a white piece of paper and see it as empty. I see it as the beginning.”
“Um, excuse me, but that was actually quite deep,” I interrupted, in between bites, one eyebrow raised.
Julian nodded. “I can’t pick a favorite song, but one that I listen to often is ‘Name’ by The Goo Goo Dolls.” My face must have displayed uncertainty because he continued on, slowly twirling the stem of his wine glass in his fingers. “‘Scars are souvenirs you never lose, the past is never far.’” His eyes shifted to his fingers, still twirling the glass absent-mindedly. “To me, the song is about secrets, but steadfast loyalty too. Losing things you wanted.” He shrugged. “I can relate.”
I was thankful that Julian wasn’t looking at me because the quote he’d recited had put my guard up. The title of the song alone reminded me of who I was, and reminded me of the promises I made myself.
“Also, I just like The Goo Goo Dolls. I grew up listening to their music. Their lyrics are poetic, but unassuming.” He seemed lost in thought for a moment before he looked at me again. He cleared his throat. “What other favorites am I supposed to tell you?”
“I…uh…” I tried to remember what questions I’d answered earlier. The discussion of his favorite song and the way it made me feel had rendered me forgetful. “Just tell me whatever favorites you have,” I said quickly, taking a large swig of my beer.
Julian sipped his wine. “Okay. My favorite book is actually a series.” He held my gaze, eyes serious. “The Harry Potter novels.”
“You have excellent taste,” I replied. “I’ve read that series probably ten times.”
Julian nodded fervently. “J.K. Rowling is why I started writing. Though our styles and genres are miles apart, she definitely inspired me.”
“Where is your favorite place to be?”
Julian pursed his lips in thought. “My mother’s sunroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows, warm wood floors, fluffy couches perfect for naps. It’s warm and cozy, and smells exactly like home.”
I leaned forward slightly. “What does home smell like?”
Before Julian could reply, the waiter returned with our entrees. He held a bottle of wine, intending to pour Julian a refill, but Julian covered his hand over the glass and shook his head. The waiter turned to me and eyed my beer, seemingly asking if I wanted a refill. I shook my head. I needed to clear my head.
I took a knife to my steak and sliced a thin piece. After placing it on my tongue, I moaned in appreciation. It had been cooked perfectly, slightly pink in the middle and seasoned perfectly on the outside. My eyes closed in satisfaction as I chewed. After swallowing, I opened my eyes to Julian’s hooded gaze. “Delicious,” I said softly.
The dimmed lights of the restaurant blocked out all distractions so that my focus was solely on Julian. And his focus was intently on me. I raised an eyebrow and gestured towards his plate. “Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked, slicing another piece of steak. Without a second thought, I held the fork in the air, in offering. “Would you like to try mine?”
I saw his jaw flex before he shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said hoarsely. He gulped down some water and concentrated on his plate in front of him.
I couldn’t help the smile that stretched my lips.
After Julian settled the bill, we walked outside to the car. The sun had long fallen behind the mountains, leaving a slight chill in its absence.
“Normally, I’d spend more time, take you somewhere else.” Julian gazed at me. “But I’ve been informed that you have a curfew of sorts, since you work early tomorrow morning.”
I eyed him. “Says who?”
“Rosa.” Julian draped his suit jacket over my shoulders and opened the door for me. I clutched the opening of the jacket with one hand and turned to face him, not making a move to sit inside the car.
“Do you want to go on a walk?” I asked, motioning my head down the sidewalk.
The street lamps cast a soft halo of light around him as he looked at me, contemplating. He stuck his hands in his pockets and glanced around before nodding his head off into the distance, in agreement. He closed the door as I stepped away from the car and turned to face me.
I slipped my arms inside his jacket sleeves and gave him a grateful smile as we started down the block. The sidewalks glistened in the moonlight, the crushed stone sparkling like sprinkles in the concrete.
“Why Colorado?” I asked after we’d passed several now-closed stores.
Julian turned to me, eyebrows drawn together. “Colorado is my home. I’m from here originally,” he said matter-of-factly. “My sisters and mother live in Denver.”
“Oh.”
“Same question to you, Andra?”
It was on the type of my tongue to say something that would betray who I really was. “Colorado is home for me too, I guess you could say.”
“Wh
ere was home before?”
I chewed on my lip ring and looked down at the sidewalk as we slowly walked down the side of the road, feeling guilty for the lies that would start coming from this seemingly harmless question. “California.”
“Who is in California?” he asked.
I looked at him. “What do you mean?”
Julian stopped walking and turned to me. “Parents? Siblings?”
Crap. Now to recover quickly. “Yes, my parents live there.” I nodded and pulled the jacket tighter across my chest, focusing my eyes on my bright red-polished fingernails. Still chipped.
“Your brother, too?” he asked.
Oh, right. Six. I’d told Julian that Six was my brother. “Yes, he lives there too.”
Julian nodded and resumed walking again. I teetered a little in my platform heels, silently berating myself for suggesting the walk. That was not my brightest idea. “How many sisters do you have?”
“Four. All younger. Trouble-makers, too.” Julian laughed, seemingly in memory.
I leaned towards him, gently, playfully bumping his shoulder with my own. “Girls are good at that.”
He bumped me with his shoulder, and my heels slid, causing me to nearly fall over. He snagged my arm and yanked me towards him, slamming my torso against his. My entire body shivered, remembering this exact same pose earlier.
“Sorry,” he murmured. My hands were pressed flat against his chest, the throb of his heartbeat booming against my palms. He exhaled, sending a rush of warmth over my lips. My eyes met his in the moonlight, and I memorized the strong line of his eyebrows, the thick black lashes that framed his deep brown eyes. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he’d yet to figure out. “You are stunning.” His hands cupped my jaw, brushing the edges of my lips with his thumbs. Something heavy sat on my windpipe, rendering me incapable of coherent speech. Julian leaned forward and settled his lips on mine. It wasn’t as inviting as the first kiss. Softer, more intimate. He didn’t try to deepen the kiss, just held me steady, my jaw firmly in his hands.
When he slowly pulled back, I whispered “you’re trouble, too.” I slowly opened my eyes and saw the smile flash across his face.
“I was going to say the same about you. Come,” he said, stepping back and clasping my hand firmly in his. “Let’s get you home.”
When we arrived back to the ranch, it was nearly eleven. Most of the interior lights of the big house were off, so only the exterior lights greeted us as the car drove up the gravel driveway. This was my favorite view, the big house lit up at night. I’d once told Rosa it was a cabin on steroids, a log mansion. It was three levels, built at the crest of a hill. It appeared much smaller than it actually was, because the back of the house boasted a walk out basement and large picture windows facing the view of the pond and valley beyond.
Julian drove the convertible all the way down the gravel road to my cabin. I laughed. “You could’ve parked it in your driveway and let me walk the five cabins down.”
“Sure.” He glanced sideways at me. “But what kind of date would I be then?”
He pulled into the spot next to my parked Jeep and opened my door for me. I shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to him. “Thanks for this.” He nodded, and walked beside me up the steps to my porch.
This felt so weird for me. Not awkward necessarily, just different. I didn’t date, I wasn’t romanced. I never had a desire for any of the extra stuff. I couldn’t definitively say I had a taste for it now, but I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t enjoy myself in his company, either.
The floorboards creaked eerily as we stepped on my porch. My flood light had turned on, illuminating the entrance to my cabin with its unnatural light. I turned to Julian and found him close, one hand braced on the door frame. He looked at me as though he didn’t want this night to end and, truth be told, neither did I. I had spent much of dinner teasing him, but he dished it right back. If anything, tonight had confirmed that I couldn’t walk so easily away from this one.
“Thank you for tonight, Julian,” I said, as seriously as possible.
“Thank you for being a good sport, Andra,” he parroted in the same tone.
How did he make me smile so damn much? “I had fun,” I said, earnestly, softening. I let my back lean against the door.
“You are…” he said, bringing his free hand up to where my hair hung over my shoulder. His fingers slid through my waves easily. “Unexpected.”
It was the perfect compliment, and I’m sure my face told him so. His hands twisted in my hair and slid the mass over behind my shoulder, revealing the strapless side of my dress. His fingers traced the exposed curve of my neck, down over my shoulder, and came to rest at the top of my arm. I was transfixed, wholly focused on his face. I barely registered his lips descending upon mine before my eyes closed instinctively and my arms went lax.
His lips met mine softly. His hand moved to my waist and he pulled me closer while simultaneously coaxing my lips open. I didn’t resist, not even for a moment. Before I realized it, my hands found his hair and I dug my fingers in, keeping him close. His tongue traced the opening of my lips and his grip tightened on my waist, probably in reaction to my suddenly weak knees.
This kiss was different. Oh, it was just as intoxicating as the others, but it was more. It was a sleepy kiss, not a kiss of two people getting to know each other, but rather a kiss of reverence. The level of feeling in this kiss was deep, heady, and confident.
My heart beat double time and I felt completely and utterly powerless. Panic set in a moment later and I pulled away, resting my forehead on his shoulder. My breathing was urgent and fractured and I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly terrified of what it all meant. Julian’s hand ran over my hair and down my back soothingly.
What. The. Hell. One date and my self-control was MIA; I couldn’t calm down. A million thoughts rushed through my head, fighting their way to materialize on my lips. I pushed them down and pulled away from Julian giving him what I hoped was not a shaky smile. “Thank you for tonight.”
His eyes searched mine. He knew something had shifted within me but didn’t press. “You already said that.”
I laughed. “Right. Well, thanks again.”
He nodded and moved away from me, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Goodnight, Andra.”
“You too.” I smiled once more and let myself into the cabin, closing the door behind me while kicking off the heels. I leaned against the door and slid down until I was fully sitting on the rug that sat flush to the door frame. I knew my dress was going to be covered in dirt, but I didn’t care. I needed to catch my breath and figure out what I was going to do about Julian.
I was awake in bed, like usual, staring at my ceiling. The parking lot lights outside my window defined the raised textured pattern around my bedroom’s light fixture, looking like tons of islands across the sea of white.
I turned my head to see my alarm clock, the numbers 1:45 bright green, reflecting onto the surface of my shiny white nightstand. I silently prayed for sleep to overtake the person down the hall. It was later than usual. I tugged the comforter up higher over my long sleeve sweater, dread anchoring my chest.
Had I even fallen asleep? I wasn’t sure. This was a nightly ritual of mine. Lie in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, too afraid to allow myself to be pulled into dreams. Sleep was a friend I never visited.
The sound of the television clicking off in the living room should have been hard to hear, but I was as attuned to it as the sound of my heart beat, the latter of which started increasing its boom-boom-boom in dreaded anticipation. My eyes moved to the light that framed my closed door in the doorway and I stared as that light grew dimmer with each flick of a light switch, from the kitchen to the office, to the hallway. Each click of the light brought the shadows across the floor closer to my bedroom door.
Shadows blocked out light in two spots under the door before I heard the click sound of the light switch just outside. My door was completely shadowed now.
My heart beat three times, fast in my chest.
I swore I could hear his breathing just outside my door and I prayed that he would continue walking on to his bedroom. My hopes were dashed a moment later when I heard him humming right against the white, hollow door. It was the only sound besides the now rapid beat of my heart. No, no, no, no, I pleaded uselessly, my fingernails digging into my palms, making fists.
The door opened with a creak. That creak was like a security system, alerting me to his presence. The door stopped after two inches, as if he wanted to be stealthier. Then the door swung open fully, his face exposed by the street lights coming through my window.
I screamed.
I sat up in bed, the scream dying in my throat. In a span of two seconds, I’d retrieved the folded knife from under my mattress and held it open in front of me, protecting myself from the nightmare.
Of course, there was nothing in my doorway. My door was closed. It wasn’t white, and the Monster was not waiting on the other side. The Monster was states away.
Shakily, I lifted the sheets off my sweat-soaked body and stood up, padding across the floor to my door, double checking the locks I’d installed. The deadbolt was in place, the chain was latched. Nothing was getting through this door without a hatchet.
I blew out a relieved breath and brushed the hair that had clung to my forehead. I hadn’t had nightmares like that in a long time. Despite my confidence in having moved on from that part of my life, nights were still occasionally traumatic for me. It took just a few months of nightmares before I pleaded to frame an actual bedroom in my cabin. Rosa, thankfully, was more than willing to come to my aid. The studio style setup the cabin had was too big and too exposed. I needed the assurance of a locked front door and locked bedroom door to assuage my anxiety.
The clock on my nightstand read 1:30 AM. Of course. Gripping the knife in one hand, I unlocked the door and made my way to my kitchen, switching on lights as I passed them. Being in such a small space in the dark bred irrational fears. I glanced at the front door, noting the locks still in place.
He Found Me Page 7
