Chapter 8
Hazel
Elijah March could control time. It was the only explanation for the way seconds slowed as he opened the door from the bar.
My friends were still clapping and hollering, but my attention was fully focused on the movement of his body. The distribution of his weight over his stylish brown boots. The shape of his knuckles holding the door handle as he scanned the tables. His eyebrows were drawn together until he found me, and a dizzying smile spread across his face.
The string of globe lights cast warm hues across his sharp cheekbones, and the freshly trimmed beard covering his jaw. The waves of his hair were tousled; a brunette curl hung over one eyebrow, giving him a rakish quality. My fingertips practically itched to brush it back.
A jean jacket hung open over a forest green flannel shirt he’d tucked into dark blue jeans. It all fit just right—tight enough where I could see the shape of his shoulders and thighs, but only hints of his pecs and biceps. Masculine. Effortless. Mouth-watering.
He closed the gap between us in fluid strides, and my heart thundered with each one. I was so fixated on him that I didn’t notice Sterling Strauss, the closest thing the town had to a publicist, trailing behind until they were at the table on the other side of Remi.
That was when I realized I was smiling as well. It was too big, but it matched my emotions—too excited, too nervous, too infatuated.
“Hi.” Elijah grinned down at me.
“Hi.” I sighed.
“Can we join you?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Remi stood. “Sure thing, take my seat.”
“Brooks, you gonna give me your seat?” Sterling asked, his usual flirtatious smirk and brilliantly blue gaze focused on Nora.
“No, he will not,” she answered.
He grabbed an empty chair from a nearby empty table. “Nora, why are you always turning me down?”
She shrugged. “I just like to be special that way.”
But that was the last I heard of their conversation, because Elijah had lowered into the seat next to me. He scraped it closer, making room for two new chairs. He was near enough that I could smell his oaky cologne.
“Hi,” I said again. Warmth spread up my neck and cheeks. How did I usually start conversations? I suddenly couldn’t remember.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hi. How was the rest of your week?”
“Good. Busy. You?”
“Good. Chill.” With jerky movements, he tugged the sleeves of his jacket down, even though they didn’t need it. “I hear the auction is coming together.”
“It is. Thank you for volunteering your time, and on your vacation, too. That’s so nice of you.”
“I’m happy to. I like animals.” He pulled his sleeves down again, before exhaling and leaning back in his chair.
I tried to do the same, but as quiet settled between us, my nerves made me shift and fidget with my hair.
“I’m surprised how quickly you scheduled the auction. It’s only five weeks away. Has planning it that quickly been a problem?”
Part of me was disappointed with our professional conversation. The other part of me was happy he was making conversation at all, because I wasn’t supplying anything. “Honestly, Nora, Sterling, and Ben have totally taken that over—which I appreciate. So, I really don’t know.”
The uncomfortable silence came back. It was probably only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. I needed to speak—it was arguably my turn.
“I…” I didn’t know what I would say next. I didn’t mean to blow you off felt too blunt. I missed you was hive inducing. I don’t know what I’m doing was way too embarrassing. Finally, I forced out, “I’m glad you’re here.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as amusement warmed his green eyes. “I am, too.”
“I didn’t mean to blow you off.”
Well, that happened.
“No?”
I shook my head. “I’d like to see you.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I want to see you, too, but I think we might want different things.”
“Why’s that?”
He considered me for a moment before leaning on his elbow, putting our faces within inches of each other. “Why didn’t you text me?”
I blinked, trying to register his whispered words, but they were so gentle and tender with the slightest rasp to his baritone, brushing like fingertips down my spine.
“Or call me,” he went on. “You got my number from Ransom months ago. I was hoping you’d reach out.”
Of course, Elijah knew. Why wouldn’t Ransom tell him?
My shoulders tensed toward my ears.
After a few more moments of my mind sputtering, I answered, “I don’t have a good reason. I just kept typing out messages, then deleting them. I couldn’t send them.”
A brush of his finger hooking my pinkie made some of the tension leave my body.
Quietly, he asked, “Why couldn’t you send them?”
Focusing on our hands slowly intertwining, I found the bravery to say, “You’re way cooler than me.”
“Not true.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing here, and it makes me nervous.”
“You make me nervous, too.”
I snorted. “Really?”
His smile did things to my heart, made it behave erratically.
“I could jump out of my skin at any second.” His thumb rubbed along my knuckles.
“Because of me?”
“I want to get to know you.”
Butterflies took flight in my stomach, fluttering wild and frantic. “You could have called me. I’m easy to find, and you knew I had your number.”
“It felt… creepy to call the office—you didn’t give me permission to do that. I almost messaged your Instagram profile a couple of times… I don’t know, I probably should’ve. I just figured there was a reason you weren’t calling me.”
My ribs squeezed my lungs. I had to force myself to suck in air. He had been waiting to hear from me. I’d wasted time being too intimidated to text a few words, when really, he was the sweetest man.
He shifted in his seat to face me squarely. His eyes locked onto mine, capturing me entirely. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and I don’t want to.”
I tried to fight back the smile spreading across my face, but it was stronger than me. These fresh, light emotions blooming were such a sharp contrast from the disappointment that was still sinking in my gut.
“I want to hold your hand,” he squeezed our palms together, “all the time. I want to take you out or bring you lunch. I want to see what there is between us, because there is something here.”
Despite how good those words were to hear, there was still the issue of distance. “What happens when you go back to Detroit?”
“A couple hours’ drive is not insurmountable. I’m here for four more weeks. Let’s give this a try. See how we fit together?”
Biting my lower lip, but grinning like a fool, I nodded. “I want that, too.”
Holding my gaze, Elijah lifted our joined hands and brushed his lips across my knuckles. My breath caught and a rush of my blood whooshed in my ears. That small touch of his mouth to my skin was enough to invoke sensations and memories from our one night together—enough for me to consider asking him to take me home.
He pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist before he whispered in my ear, “Not yet.”
“Why?” I sounded as desperate as I felt, and also completely unconcerned that he could read my mind.
“Did you forget that I want to get to know you?”
“Now?”
Laughing, he rested his forehead against mine. “Yes, now.”
“Fine,” I said with a giddy grin on my face.
I leaned against Elijah’s side. His body was comforting and warm in the booth next to me—the chill that lingered in my bones slowly leeching away. We’d moved inside almost an hour ago, when the outdoor furnaces couldn’t keep the cold far enough back.
His arm was wrapped around my shoulders. His thumb drew circles on my upper arm, following the knit pattern of my dress. The combination of yet another long week, Moscow mules, and the persistent beat of his heart against my ear caused my eyes to drift shut. But I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to hug him goodbye. I didn’t want to say good night.
Not yet.
I wanted to keep soaking up his presence.
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked, trying to stay awake.
“Midnight blue. What’s yours?”
“Green.”
Like your eyesI left unsaid, but just barely. I was halfway through my third Moscow mule and my inhibitions were showing it.
“It suits you.” He brushed my hair back from my face and craned his neck to look at me. “Do you wanna go home? You seem exhausted.”
I shook my head. “I’m not ready.”
He pulled me closer. “Okay.”
“Get Low” was pounding from the speakers. Nora, Brooks, Remi, and Sterling were dancing with half the town’s population of twenty- to thirty-year-olds. They laughed as Sterling twerked.
I laughed too until Elijah asked, “Would you like to dance?”
I recoiled. “Oh god, no!”
“Don’t like dancing?” His schooled expression hid most everything, except the amusement in his eyes.
“No.”
“Not even alone in your house?”
“No. I don’t like dancing alone. I don’t like dancing in front of people. I don’t know if there’s anything more embarrassing than dancing.”
“Aw, baby, don’t be embarrassed.”
My brain went fully offline, remembering the last time he’d called me that. He’d pushed me to the point where my need was too much, and my hands sought out relief. But then he asked, ‘You need it that bad, baby?’ and he sent me over the edge on his tongue.
It took a while, but eventually, I regained the ability to speak. “If you’d like to dance, I’m good. I’m perfectly happy to sit here drinking water and watching you.”
In response, he’d tucked me against his side.
I spotted Emily, the bartender, and Millie, the owner of the local coffee shop, share surprised looks at the sight of me and Elijah together.
No one could be as shocked as I was.
A few songs later, I was comfortably nestled against him, my mind adrift and drowsy. The tension eased from my shoulders with each breath.
“Are you falling asleep?” Elijah’s voice rumbled low in my ear.
With a sharp intake through my nose, I sat up straight, trying to appear awake. “Hmm?”
“How are you getting home? Is your car here?”
I shook my head.
“I have my bike, or I’d offer to drive you.”
“You ride a motorcycle?” I generally found motorcycles to be reckless death machines, but the idea of him on one surfaced a sexual awakening from Grease 2 I hadn’t realized was still relevant.
He scoffed, “My bicycle.”
Laughing, I covered my mouth. “Where’s your car?”
“I don’t want to say; I’m already being supremely uncool.”
“Where is it?”
He grimaced at the black iron beams of the ceiling. “My mom has it.”
I hid my face in his shoulder as the humor took over. The sounds I was making couldn’t even be called laughter anymore; it was more like cackling.
“You rode your bike here,” I yelled into the soft fabric of his flannel. It wasn’t funny… I knew it wasn’t funny. A bicycle was a completely reasonable form of transportation, but still, I couldn’t stop laughing.
His finger hooked under my chin, urging it up. Three wrinkles were drawn from the corners of his eyes, and parentheses were etched at both sides of his smile. A tender heat grew in my chest, wrapping around my heart and easing into my stomach, pleasant and soft. Unlike the all-consuming smolder he’d made me feel in the past, this was something new. Gentle. Sustainable.
“The woman I like asked me to be here, so I’m here,” he stated.
“You’re here because of me?”
“I am in this town because of you.”
The distance between our mouths was closing in imperceptible increments.
“No way,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“No.” I shook my head, brushing his lips for the barest second.
“Yes.” He nodded, nudging my nose with his. His fingers weaved into the hair at the base of my skull.
And then we were kissing.
And I was falling—tumbling, reeling. Head over heels into a pool I hadn’t even realized I was dipping my toe in.
His lips were smooth and soft, and his hold on me was firm. My fingertips trailed down his neck to grip the collar of his shirt, the back of my knuckles against his clavicle. I felt the vibrations of his groaned moan more than heard it as he pulled me against him and deepened the kiss. Tilting his head, he ran his tongue along the inside of my lips. And I was fully immersed in the smell of his skin—that scent I couldn’t place, but reminded me of campfires, and staying up too late, and hot nights under the stars. I couldn’t get enough of his taste, the lingering hoppy notes from the beer he drank under the inexplicably sweet taste of his mouth.
I’d heard of this, but I’d never experienced it. Someone who just appealed to every single one of my senses. Maybe it was a pheromone or a gift from god that made him so delicious to me, but I didn’t care. I wanted more. I wanted to feel him closer, tighter. I wanted to smell every inch of his skin. I wanted to run my hands down his stomach. I wanted to bite into the flesh of his deltoid as I wrapped myself around him.
Someone bumped our table, and we startled, both of us gasping for air. Somehow, I’d ended up on his lap, and our sweet little kiss had grown into something barely appropriate, even for this dimly lit bar.
His erection strained against the pant leg of his jeans. The skirt of my dress would have been up to my waist if he hadn’t held on to it in both fists, keeping it in place at the top of my thighs.
Hiding my blushing face in his neck, I lowered to the booth next to him. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah.” He shielded his face with his hand, and only I could see his baffled smile. His chest bounced against my cheek.
“Oh good, you came up for air,” Nora said, scooting into the booth across from us.
I ignored her, but Elijah snorted.
“Are you getting a ride from me or him?” Her face twisted in distaste. “I hate the way I asked that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Classy.”
Elijah shook his head. “You’ll have to take her home. I’ll pick you up for a date tomorrow.”
I wanted to ask him to spend the night at my place, but decided I was probably being too thirsty.
“We have the shopping trip tomorrow,” Nora pointed out.
“We’ll be done by the evening, right?” Elijah asked.
“What shopping trip?” I asked.
She gestured to the sea of dancing bodies to her left. “I’m making the bachelors get clothes that fit their bodies. Most of these men dress like little boys playing dress up in their dad’s clothes.”
I considered Brooks and his loose-fitting jeans and T-shirt. “Good point. But Elijah dresses great.”
“I’m making him, Remi, and Sterling come to do most of the styling. I don’t have the energy to be patient with a medium-sized man insisting on wearing an extra-large.”
The mental image of Elijah trying on clothes and me getting to sit back and ogle him was enough for me to give up my plans for a productive Saturday. “Can I go, too?”
“Of course,” he said as Nora warned, “Only if you’re not a distraction.”
“Great, I’m coming tomorrow.”
“Maybe we can get dinner down there, or I could cook for you when we’re back in town.”
I nodded, my brain lagging due to his nearness, scent, and touch.
Holding my hand, he walked me and Nora out to her car. She told him the logistical details about the following day, but I wasn’t paying attention. All that really mattered was when he held my waist and promised to text me the following morning to make plans.
He combed his fingers through my hair, then cupped my jaw. Leaning forward, he kissed me. It was just a kiss goodbye, but it was slow and full of promise. And I could not wait for our upcoming date.
After closing my car door, Elijah waved. Turning with his hands stuffed into his pockets, he shrugged against the blustery autumn wind. I watched him in the side mirror until he disappeared into the bar.
Nora pulled onto the dark, quiet street. “You two are so cute, it almost makes me want someone to crush on.”
I gasped theatrically. “Not reel ’em in and throw ’em out Nora!”
“I said almost.”
“He said he likes me.”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “I’m really happy for you, babe.”
I wiggled in my seat, too elated to hold still. “Thanks.”