Chapter 13
Thirteen
Nicolas
I didn't get as much done yesterday as I'd planned.
It's all his fucking fault too. Not to mention he stole my back up pair of sunglasses and was in my truck bed smearing his cum on the lenses before capturing a photo.
I kept getting notifications from OnlyFans all day.
So many new photos and two new videos posted.
It's a wonder how he got all the jam and pies on his table made with how much time he spent in front of that not so great resolution camera of his.
His new phone will be here sometime next week but maybe I don't want him to have it.
Then that means other people get to see the good quality I do.
They get to see every scar and freckle on his body. They can see him more clearly.
“Well look who is finally here to claim his pie.” Patrick stands from his chair with his hands on his hips.
He's wearing pink overalls and a straw hat…
wait is that my black buffalo plaid shirt?
I've been looking for that. I should have known where it would be.
Right with my spare sunglasses, bandana and blue trucker hat. I shake my head, biting back a smile.
“It's only been thirty minutes since it started,” I say, inching close, my gaze trailing from item to item on his table.
There's a lot more than I expected. Handmade soap, three types of jam, three different pies, strawberries, apples and peaches.
Oh, this little cute thief. At the very left corner rests a chest with ice and six glass jugs filled with fresh squeezed orange juice.
“I don't remember you having oranges in your yard.”
His cheeks grow a bright pink. “I don't. The wind must have blown them over.”
I lift a brow. “That's some strong wind.”
“Okay, okay. I should have asked but…but that orange juice was really good and if I don't sell it today then I'll have an excuse to bring it home.”
I laugh. “Feel free to help yourself anytime. Although I do prefer you ask because I was worried I left that shirt somewhere I shouldn't have.”
His face falls. “Like…like a one-night stand.”
“Eh…sure we'll go with that.”
A muscle in his neck twitches. “Sorry. I thought it went well with my new converse and overalls.” He steps out from behind the table, lifting each of his feet.
“It does,” I agree. “So well, I think I might have to let you keep it now.”
His eyes brighten “Does that mean you'll buy another so we can match the next time we pick fruit off trees together.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “I think I'd like to buy my pie now.”
He nods, reaching under the table. “Got another busy day ahead of you?”
I lift one shoulder. “Kinda. Didn't accomplish as much as I would have liked yesterday.”
“Why's that? All those one night-stands?” He scrutinizes me with his eyes.
I grin. “No. It's actually this clumsy little red head's fault. I couldn't stop wasting so much time thinking about him.”
“Thinking about him or watching him?”
“Who knows,” I say, cocking my head.
He digs his nails into the table, the pie in his hand nearly crashing to the ground before I reach over to grab it.
“Shit, I'm sorry.” He adjusts his hat.
“It's okay. I caught it. It's all good. No pie is going to waste on my account.”
Letting out a nervous laugh, his eyes point down and an older lady in a teal dress approaches the table.
“Well doesn't all this just look delicious.”
“I'll catch you later, Patty.” I set down thirty five dollars, adding a jar of strawberry jam to the pile.
“Yeah,” he stammers and I can tell he wants to say more as he watches me slowly walk away.
As I'm almost to my truck, I turn around and smile when I see a long line forming at his table.
My lips lift higher when I see how much joy wraps around him and for a minute I almost think it could be enough to thaw out my frozen heart. Almost.
I'm checking out my plants when Patrick pulls up in his driveway. Getting out of the car, he doesn't wait for his feet to touch the ground before waving at me.
“Good selling day?” I shout.
He waltzes my way with something behind his back after slamming his door shut behind him. His smile is big and his hips are shimmying from side to side.
“Really good! I sold out.”
“That's great. Way to go.”
“Thanks.” He stops inches in front of me, hands still behind his back as he holds a mischievous glow in his eyes.
“If you have nothing left then what you got back there?” I point to where a pink bag is peaking from his back.
“You're really going to keep playing dumb with me?”
I lift a brow, wiping sweat from my forehead. “What do you mean?”
He snorts. “Really, it's getting a little drawn out, don't you think? I mean I'll admit I liked it at first and might even still enjoy it now but it's all gotta come to light at some point.”
“What's any of this have to do with what's behind your back?”
“You left a gift on my table.” He lifts the plastic bag in the air and a slight breeze has the top curling.
My eyes cast downward. “What's that?”
“It's from you, isn't it?” His forehead wrinkles and he looks from the bag to me.
I lean closer, squinting my eyes. “When would I have had time to leave that?”
His lips fold in and he peaks inside, plucking out a chocolate chip cookie. “I don't know but you're one sneaky asshole so I figured you'd find a way.”
He's about to pop the sweet treat on his tongue and then the wind picks up pushing a chemical odor my way. I lunge forward, slapping it out of his hand and I snatch the bag from the other.
He jumps back, brows dipping. “What'd you do that for?”
My hackles rise as I take a deeper sniff of the inside of the bag. Someone drugged these cookies. They wanted to hurt my little bo. Who would want to do such a thing? Is it because of me? Are we getting too close? Someone must have seen us at some point putting two and two together.
I grit my teeth. “You didn't see anyone who looked suspicious walking by the whole time you were selling?”
His mouth opens and closes before he shakes his head. “What's going on? Did something happen to the cookies?”
“Yes and you shouldn't go eating just anything lying around.”
His face pales. “What's wrong with them? Made with something spoiled?”
“Yeah, sure. We'll go with that.” Bending down, I carefully retrieve the other cookie and slip it into the bag.
“Will you stop doing that and just tell me what it is?” He asks as I stomp toward my house.
“You don't have to worry about it anymore and you should really go wash your hands.”
His eyes graze over his palms. “Are you going to come over later? I can serve you a beverage that will go very well with that pie you bought.”
“I…I can't. I have work today.”
He nods. “How about you come over later then, and this time surprise me from under my bed after my shower?” His eyes heat.
“I really don't have time to do this with you right now, Patrick. Go home and lock all your doors tonight.”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Why are you not more worried about what I stopped you from eating?”
He shoves his hand in the back of his pockets, lifting himself up on his tiptoes. “You said it was spoiled. Why would I be worried about that?”
I sneer. “You need to stop walking around the earth so damn blindsided and shouldn't take just anyone for their word.”
“So you didn't mean it when you said you'll always be everywhere I am then?” His chest dips and the sadness in his eyes make my heart ache.
What the fuck is happening? What is he doing to me?
Why do I want to take him in my arms so badly while whispering yes, yes I'm right here and always will be?
This is the reason he almost died today.
Someone could be watching us now. One wrong move could lead to me losing him in a worse way than I would if I walked away from whatever it is that's been happening between us.
“I don't know what you're talking about but I do know it's getting late and I need to finish my yard work before the sun goes down.”
“Yeah…” Hesitation is heavy in his eyes and his bottom lip shakes. “Yeah, okay. See you around neighbor.”
As I'm turning around, trying not to give into the temptation of following him, I hear a metal door slam.
An engine roars minutes later and my heart pounds heavily in my chest as he backs out of his driveway.
Where the hell does he think he's going?
I quickly toss the bag of cookies in the back of my truck bed and get in to follow him.
No one else is on the road but us and he goes exactly to where I think he's headed—to see his brother.
Right when I think it's another day of him staying in the car and debating on going inside, the passenger door swings open.
His shoes step onto the pavement and he slowly drags himself forward, wiping at his eyes.
Not moving from where I am, I keep watching him until he's fully out of sight and this time I'm the one debating if I should get out of the vehicle or not.