3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Blaire
T he morning light streams in through my window, and as much as I could stay tucked under the warmth of my blankets and sleep the rest of the morning away, I want to make the most of my Saturday. Last night was so unexpected that I tossed and turned and barely got any sleep. Dallas cornering me in the women’s restroom rattled me. I felt his jealous rage just as fiercely as his lust. He wanted me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me.
His behavior came out of nowhere. It’s no secret how much he dislikes me, but he’s also not as sly as he thinks he is when he’s checking me out. The distillery has an insanely lax atmosphere, so I’m not worried about the fact that I told him to fuck off, but his behavior would probably get him in trouble if I wanted to report him.
I was supposed to be on my first date with Cole. We met at the end of summer bonfire at Grace Beach my first week in town, and he asked me out during a tasting yesterday. While I’m not overly interested in him, it sure beats spending another lonely night at home. Dallas being there was just the icing on the cake, and I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit how much his dominance turned me on. Something I need to dissect later, because that is usually a hard line for me.
I couldn’t imagine a sexual relationship that is built on having a trust so deep that one person can hand over their desires and needs to another with no reservations. I’m no virgin, but I can’t imagine being willing to let someone control me in the bedroom; I need to play an active part in controlling the situation. I’m sure that can be blamed on one person. For a kid who grew up the way I did, I consider myself lucky. My need to not take any shit from anyone and be in constant control are all coping mechanisms. Even if Dallas’ unexpected dominant side definitely turned me on.
I slowly rise and pull on some athletic clothes—a pair of black fleece-lined leggings, a long sleeve top, and a baggy sweatshirt. Tucking my wild hair under a beanie, I slip on my sneakers and head out. Aspen Ridge is breathtaking, especially in the morning. Fog kisses the ground, and it smells like snow is on the horizon.
The walk down Main Street is like a trip inside a Hallmark Christmas movie. Complete with brick sidewalks, light posts decorated in twinkly lights that give off a warm, festive glow, and wreaths hanging on doors. I can’t help but stop at each window display and marvel at the holiday cheer. I open the door to Bean Haven, welcoming the warmth of the shop.
“Morning, Blaire!” Hannah chirps from the other side of the counter. “I just pulled chocolate croissants out, would you like one with your coffee?”
Hannah Haven runs the town’s only coffee shop. To say she’s gorgeous would be a drastic understatement. She has beautiful violet-colored hair, styled in loose waves, and a full sleeve of intricate, fine line floral tattoos up one arm. She’s also the most genuine, sweet person I’ve met here so far, and I always look forward to talking with her.
“That sounds like heaven actually, please! Good morning, Ms. Nettie,” I say to greet Hannah’s grandmother, who is sitting at a small table in front of the shop window, her small dog lying peacefully in her lap.
“Mornin’,” the older woman replies without giving so much as a look in my direction. When I first moved to Aspen Ridge, she would sit outside just like that, watching everyone as they went about their lives around her. Now that winter has moved in, she sits right in the front window.
While I wait for Hannah to make my coffee, the bell chimes, signaling more customers, and Ms. Nettie’s dog loses her mind, jumping out of her lap and yelping loudly. I look over to find Ivy and Sawyer walking in holding hands. They’re the epitome of what two people who were made for each other look like, and from what little I’ve heard from people chatting, especially Ms. Nettie, they were together all through school and then were separated for ten years but made their way back to each other. It’s pretty romantic actually. Apparently, Sawyer waited for her—never even dated—and was convinced he’d get her back someday. Can you even imagine? That kind of stuff doesn’t happen in real life and is totally romance book material.
Ivy glows, happiness exuding from her. Her long black hair is worn down and makes all of her facial features pop. I absentmindedly run my fingers through my wild, untamed, red hair.
“Ms. Nettie, why? Why? Minnie, get off!” Sawyer drawls in an obviously irritated tone.
“It’s Winnie!” Ms. Nettie and Ivy yell at him. I laugh to myself while watching Ivy scoop the little dog up, her teeth planted firmly at the bottom of Sawyer’s pants. She wrangles her free and sets her back with Ms. Nettie before they turn in my direction.
“Hey, Blaire! Good to see you!”
“Hi, Ivy. Hey, Sawyer. What are you guys up to?”
“Ivy’s craving apple cinnamon muffins and these are the best.”
Ivy smacks Sawyer in the chest and gives him a pointed glare. I’m not sure what the issue is, it’s no secret how mouthwatering Bean Haven’s apple cinnamon muffins are.
“What about you? Any plans for the weekend?” Ivy asks me.
“Nope. Just kinda hanging around.” Alone. Cause that’s what you do when you have no family and haven’t made any real friends in your new town yet.
“Morning, you two!” Hannah sets my coffee and croissant on the counter and rings me up. “Usual?” she asks the pair.
Sawyer nods and confirms, “Yep.”
“Really? When are you going to stop this madness? Get something you actually enjoy,” Ivy says to him.
I watch as Sawyer leans down and whispers something into her ear. Her face flames in a vibrant blush and I can’t hold back a smile. They’re so in love.
“You and Charlie coming tomorrow, Han?” Sawyer asks. I grab my coffee and paper bag and turn to leave.
“Wouldn’t miss it!” she replies.
“Hey, Blaire, if you don’t have plans tomorrow, why don’t you join us? Sawyer’s parents host a mandatory Sunday dinner at their house. It’s super informal, usually pretty chaotic actually, but it’s good food and it isn’t just family. Hannah and Charlie usually come, and Reid is always invited but never shows. But it’s fun, sometimes others bring a friend or two. You should join us.”
I give her a genuine smile, but the idea of going over to my employer’s parents’ house for Sunday dinner doesn’t sound like the best idea. Dinner opens up getting-to-know-you questions, and questions are never good when you basically made up an entire story about your past to make yourself sound better and not so pathetic and damaged. They think I’m a military child who grew up around the world, returning to Washington to live with my grandparents—who don’t exist. The last thing I wanted out of moving here was a pity hire.
“Thank you for the invite, honestly, but?—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you need to come. Plus, the look on Dallas’ face will be worth it. You enjoy pissing him off, right?” Sawyer chimes in, slinging his arm around Ivy’s shoulders. I know my face brightens at the mention of my other boss. While Dallas is indeed a huge prick, he’s so sexy that it’s actually painful to look at him. Memories of last night flash through my mind—how his eyes were filled with a blazing inferno, how he looked at me like he wanted to devour me. But then the way he left me hot and bothered, confused, and shocked, yeah, I’d love to spend my Sunday pissing him off in retaliation.
“Actually, that sounds great. You convinced me.”
Sawyer laughs. “Atta girl. Ivy will text you the details.”
“Sounds great. See you all tomorrow.”
We all go our separate ways and head back out into the winter chill. I’m lost in looking at the holiday displays and don’t notice when I run into a hard wall of a human leaving Book Bound, the indie bookstore. I bounce backward, lucky not to spill any of my coffee.
“I’m so sorry about that!”
“For fuck’s sake. Can’t you watch where you’re going?”
Dallas. Because of course it would be Dallas.
“What part of sorry did you not hear?”
“You wouldn’t need to say sorry if you were watching where you were going.”
“You would think that wouldn’t you? Because you never make mistakes. Speaking of, I’m sure the innocent girl you were going to corrupt last night is thankful you weren’t another notch on her bedpost.”
“Cheeky as always, princess.”
He leans down into my space, his head next to mine as he whispers in my ear, making my pulse race and sending chills down my spine.
“Trust me, nothing about what I would have done to her would have been considered a mistake. She’d be left more than satisfied and come back begging for more.”
My eyes flutter closed for a brief moment as thoughts of all the things Dallas could do behind closed doors flash before them, then I shake clear of the spell he has over me.
“You tell yourself that all you want, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Refusing to let Dallas get under my skin today, knowing that he’ll get a rude awakening at dinner tomorrow, I walk away, deciding to head into Rogue to check on Reid before going upstairs to my apartment. Especially because I don’t need Dallas seeing where I live. Lucky for me, he’s not currently tattooing any clients.
“Hey, you,” I greet him. He looks up from his workstation, his iPad displaying a gorgeous design he’s working on. The artist in me wants to look at the details, but I don’t ask. He takes off his glasses, which are such an enigma because the man is the size of an extra-angry Hulk, covered in tattoos from the neck down, and has shoulder-length hair. His occupation checks out.
“Hey there. What, no coffee for me?”
I pale, realizing the rudeness of my behavior.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Last minute decision to swing in to say hi,” I say sheepishly. He reaches down by his feet, picking up a Bean Haven to-go mug that matches my own, and smirks at me as he takes a long pull from it.
“Dick,” I tease while taking a seat across from him. “So, guess where I was just invited.”
“Hayes Sunday dinner.”
“What the hell? How’d you know?”
“’Cause you just came from Bean Haven. Which means Liam was probably there, and since Ivy can’t get enough of those damn apple cinnamon muffins, there’s a good chance she was there with Sawyer. Plus, they’re always trying to extend that invitation.”
“Smarty pants. They said you have a standing invitation but you don’t ever go. What’s up? Is there something I’m missing? There’s not some weird cult thing happening over there, is there? My roommate in college got sucked into one of those.”
He laughs at that.
“Nah, they’re good people. The best, actually. I just can’t bring myself to go. Got something else going on Sundays and don’t do family stuff like that.”
There’s something in his tone that brings me pause, taking a moment to decide whether I should press or not.
“I can see your brain working overtime, B. Just spill it.”
“Why can’t you go? From what I’ve seen and heard, you and Sawyer are best friends, you seem close with all of them, actually.”
He sighs before leaning back on his stool, resting his large, tattooed arms across his station behind him.
“It’s complicated. It’s just the family dynamic. It has everything to do with me and nothing to do with them, and going there just reminds me of everything that I’ve lost. Plus, I have a standing appointment that day.”
Now that, I can relate to. I don’t want to ask further questions on the topic, I understand more than anyone the need to keep our secrets close.
“So, I guess I’m going solo then. I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m positive it’s going to ruin Dallas’ day, so that will be my highlight.”
He laughs and takes another sip of his coffee, then sits up straight and looks at me with huge eyes.
“Wait, you actually know someone who got pulled into a cult?”
“How are you just now hearing that? I swear men’s brains are bizarrely wired. I’m so not making it up. My roommate in college got involved with one. Took over her entire life, like consumed her. Couldn’t talk about anything else. Kept trying to get me to join. Hard pass, by the way. But we lost her to it. The CrossFit gods claimed her.”
The look on his face is priceless, as shock morphs into a deep laugh that triggers my own. It feels so good to have a friend. AR is finally starting to feel like home.
I decide to head back to my apartment upstairs to get some work done, choosing to spend the rest of the day with my Post Malone playlist on shuffle, working on my laptop, and going over plans for Sawyer and Ivy’s upcoming wedding. They wanted to have it on the distillery property, something intimate and beautiful, and being asked to plan it has been such an honor. While I’d worked on weddings at my previous job, I’ve never taken the lead until now.
Planning weddings has always been my dream, and this is as close to reaching it as I’m going to get right now. Creating someone’s happiest moments and giving them something spectacular to look back on, would be goals for me.
Before I know it, four hours have passed, and I’m forced to set my laptop down next to me on the couch and rub my strained eyes. I stretch my legs out and pick up my phone to scroll aimlessly through social media, when I find a missed text.
Cole:
I had a great time with you last night. I’m glad you agreed to go out with me.
A soft smile comes to my face. Despite Dallas flustering me in the bathroom, I had a good time with Cole. The conversation flowed easily, and he was present and attentive, sweet even. But he didn’t light me up. There weren’t any initial sparks. But maybe that takes time. Perhaps if Dallas hadn’t messed with my head, I’d feel differently. I want so badly to make it work here in Aspen Ridge, and dating is a part of that. I don’t want to be alone forever.
Me:
Thank you for taking me out. I had a good time as well.
Cole:
I was hoping that was the case.
Unsure of what to say in response, my fingers hover over my keypad. Feeling slightly awkward about how to keep the conversation going, I toss my phone to the side and pick up my sketchpad and pencil, adding some finishing touches to a new wedding gown design I’ve had floating around in my head. Designing wedding dresses was my first passion, but going to art school was too much of a gamble. I needed to make sure that I could settle down with a stable job, and let’s face it, unless I wanted to teach, getting my degree in art was going to make finding a career more challenging. With no one to fall back on but myself, going to school for hospitality management and then studying my ass off to get my project plus certification was the closest I could get to creating dream weddings. I may not be designing brides’ dream gowns, but the event process is just as fulfilling.
Looking around the sparse room that is my apartment, I can’t help but wonder what tomorrow will be like at Dallas’ parents’ house. I’ve seen the relationship dynamic between the Hayes brothers, and their closeness must be partially due to their parents and their upbringing. As much as I’m eager to see the shocked look on Dallas’ face, I’m nervous to be asked questions about my own family, because I’m seriously lacking in that department. I’ll have to get creative to keep my secrets locked up close.
But I’ve been playing this game my entire life.