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“She wanted to talk to your brother,” I try and explain without giving too much away. “And she… lost her cat. And then I lost my dog. And yes, that’s how I ended up here.”
Or something along those lines anyway. Yes, I’m rambling, and probably sound insane, and he’s never going to want to visit my café again. Oh well, might as well go out with a bang now.
“She wanted to talk to Spencer and you didn’t want me to see you so you hid in the bush across the road from my house?”
My mouth drops open. “That’s quite an assumption there, Sylar.”
But yes, he hit the nail on the head.
“Why wouldn’t I want you to see me?” I ask, trying to play it off. I can’t believe he called me out like this. Does he know that for some unexplainable reason I just want to be in his presence? He should take it as a compliment. I can’t remember the last time I chased a man. Have I ever? I didn’t even chase Eric, he came after me. Maybe in my old age, I’ve lost all my dignity, too.
Well, this sucks.
He does something that surprises me then. He grins. It’s devastating.
In fact, it makes everything that just happened worth it.
“What am I going to do with you, Brielle?” he murmurs, eyes scanning my face in such a way that butterflies appear in my stomach.
Kiss me, maybe?
When he starts chuckling, I realize I said that out loud.
I cover my face with my hands. “I need a do over. Today needs to start again, and this time I’m just going to stay in bed.”
A warm hand cups my nape, gently. “Come on, how about I make you a coffee for once.”
I let my hands drop from my face to look at him.
He shrugs a little sheepishly and adds, “It’s not going to be as good though.”
“That’s okay,” I whisper, mesmerized by everything that is he.
“Hopefully those two are still clothed,” he mutters under his breath, letting go of my nape and placing his hand on my lower back, gently leading me across the road.
Clothed?
Christina wouldn’t….
Oh, who am I kidding? She so would.
He opens his front door, which is unlocked, and I step into his house, taking everything in. As we walk to the kitchen, I notice that the house is very spacious, and sparsely decorated. It looks like no one lives here, because there is no mess, and no personal touches. I sit down on a bar stool in the kitchen while he grabs two mugs and starts to make some instant coffee. I can’t remember the last time I had any. I’m wondering where the hell Snoop is when he asks, “How many sugars?”
“Two, please,” I reply, watching his hands work.
“I’m really sorry about this whole”—I wave my hands around—“thing.”
“It’s not every day you find a beautiful woman hiding in a bush,” he murmurs, eyes cast downwards. “Why do I have a feeling you get yourself into a lot of trouble?”
“I mean, I’m alive,” I say, shrugging. “I can’t be doing so badly. And I wouldn’t say it was trouble, more like… shenanigans. We live in a small, boring town. How much trouble can we really get into?”
Blue eyes rise and clash with mine. “More than you know.”
The look in his eyes is a warning, but I don’t understand it. Is he warning me away from him?
“I think I like you,” I blurt out, too far gone to care, too intrigued to lose my only chance to tell him. “I mean, I want to get to know you. Will you tell me about you?”
He slides one mug in my direction.
“Thanks,” I tell him.
“You’re welcome,” he says, picking up his own.
When he doesn’t say anything else, I ask, “What are you thinking about right now?”
“I’m wondering why out of all the men in this town, you think you like me,” he says, a muscle working in his jaw. “Because, Brielle, trust me when I say that I’m the worst one.”
I always did have terrible taste in men.
