Chapter 9
Elijah
Our shopping assignment was: Halloween rules.
Costume a roofer, but make it sexy.
School teacher, but sexy.
Grocer, but sexy.
And Nora had been wise to enlist help dressing these men. Some of them acted like putting on a button-up shirt was terminal.
I tended to be accepting of other people’s limitations, but even I wanted to roll my eyes when Shane Briar complained, again, about having to try on a third pair of jeans. Or when Brooks grabbed an extra-large shirt when he was a lean large, at best.
“It fits tight in the shoulders,” he complained.
“Good,” I retorted.
“It’s restricting my movement.”
“What, you gonna do jumping jacks on stage?”
He cupped the bill of his baseball cap. The shirt did strain around his arms and shoulders, but that was the idea. It was no snugger than the shirts I wore regularly.
The three-sided mirror repeated our images from different angles. Behind us, the other end of the hallway opened into the store.
“Do you have the belt on?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Cool, tuck the shirt in.” I looked in the other direction, catching an animated conversation between Sterling and Bill Mueller, a local plumber, about the merits of a quality undershirt. The older man nodded, his bald head gleaming under the florescent lights.
To my left, I vaguely registered the rattle of Brooks undoing his belt. Hazel walked into the frame the doorway created. She looked down at a shelf, her hands working quickly through the garments as she talked to someone I couldn’t see to her right. Her smile was warm, and when she laughed, I couldn’t help but grin in response. It sparked a vague memory of sharing a high school class with her. She’d been this cute, nerdy girl in the front row. I wouldn’t go near her, because I was trouble and she was good. I didn’t know if she actually wore glasses back then, or if I’d projected them onto her face in my mind—a manifestation of just how clever she was with her hand always in the air, always with the answer to the questions.
We had driven to the mall separately. She’d called earlier that morning, saying she had some work that needed to get done for the clinic. I was expected to get here at the beginning of the shopping trip, and neither of us wanted to risk Nora’s wrath. Instead, Hazel hitched a ride with Millie, the owner of Country Grounds, Grand Ridge’s coffee shop. Hazel and I hadn’t been able to spend much time together all day, and she planned to hitch a ride back with Millie as well. At least this way we could eat lunch together before she left. And, of course, we had a date tonight, where I’d cook for her at her house.
Seeing her again, knowing that we both wanted to give this romance a shot, had me full of energy. I was certain we would be a good fit; I could see a future with her. A life that looked nothing like what I had pictured before. I always saw myself living in cities, building my business with Sebastian, and the women I dated fit into that image. They were career driven—just like Hazel—but they didn’t aspire to a small-town life with a yard. If they wanted kids, they wanted to raise them in the city.
I didn’t think that was what Hazel wanted. She was building a business she was proud of, and I understood firsthand how important that was.
She didn’t have the type of job that could go remote like mine.
If we became everything I thought we could, it would mean moving back to Grand Ridge—a town I had mixed feelings about. But I had the feeling the more I got to know Hazel, the less that would feel like a sacrifice.
Looking up, she caught me staring, and I didn’t look away.
She pinched her lips together and shook her head.
I smiled, the tip of my tongue running along the ridges of my upper teeth.
Her breasts rose with an inhale.
The need to touch her, to be near her, grew almost overwhelming. I couldn’t wait to get her alone. I didn’t know how I would keep my hands off her long enough to not only prepare food, but let her eat it, too. Not with the way her jeans hugged her hips, and the V-neck of her thin sweater gave me glimpses of the black lace of her bra.
Not when just the memory of her gasps and moans made my cock twitch.
Something must have changed in my expression because pink warmed her cheeks and she absentmindedly grazed her fingertips on the pale skin of her neck.
I was going to run my teeth right there. I was going to—
“This what you want?” Brooks’ voice broke my train of thought so abruptly, I had to blink, forcing my brain into the present and out of a much more desirable future.
“What?” I croaked. I flicked my eyes toward him, then back to Hazel. She was covering her mouth and laughing down toward her feet.
When I met his eye in the mirror, Brooks appeared equal parts amused and annoyed. He held his arms out, indicating his shirt fully buttoned-up and tucked into his slacks. The gold buckle of the brown belt was bright against the navy blue pants, and the shirt was the same blue as his eyes.
“You look sharp, man,” I said.
He gripped the bill of his hat in both hands, the ends of his hair curling out under the rim.
I jerked my chin up. “You know Nora’s gonna make you get a haircut.”
He nodded. “I’ll schedule it today.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “I still think it’s too tight.”
Hazel wasn’t outside of the dressing room hallway; instead there was a woman I hadn’t seen before. She had bright blond hair and whispered something to her friend, who stood with her back to us. The other woman casually looked over her shoulder before doing a double take. It was easy to see the line of the women’s gazes taking in an eyeful of Brooks.
Quietly, I said, “Look in the mirror above your right shoulder.”
He did and caught the women checking him out. When they realized they’d been caught, they giggled and one of them gave a shy wave. The smallest tug upward of his mouth was the only indication Brooks gave that he saw them.
As they walked away, he conceded, “Maybe it’s not too tight.”
Almost an hour later, I held Hazel’s hand as we entered a chain restaurant. The walls were lined in booths, and there was random classic film paraphernalia on the walls. It was the tail end of the lunch rush, and most of the restaurant was empty. We’d waited for everyone else to commit to a different place, then slipped away like thieves. Finally, having her to myself was well worth it.
The hostess gave us a welcoming smile that didn’t reach her eyes—an expression just as uniformed as her name badge. “How many?”
“Two, please,” I answered.
She grabbed menus and led us into the seating area. Gesturing to a four-top table, she asked, “Will this work?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She left while Hazel and I slid into our seats across from one another.
With a quick glance over her shoulder, she said, “I love how polite you are.”
I shrugged, not knowing exactly how to respond.
“Your dad’s polite.” She picked up her menu.
“So is my mom. You’d like her.”
Without looking up from the laminated pages, Hazel asked, “Are you close with her?”
“Yeah, it was kinda just her and me—like we were the only ones who knew what it was like when I was growing up. We’ve always stayed close.”
Hazel laid her menu down. Giving me her full attention, she tilted her head. “Was it that bad?”
I knew she understood what kind of man my dad was better than most people. But that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable to actually explain the nuanced way he controlled me and my mom. I clasped my hands together, swiping the knuckles of my thumbs across my lips. “Uh, looking back, there was a lot of gaslighting. When I got older, Mom and I were able to piece our reality together. You know, there was a way he twisted the truth, and then there was actual reality. And in public, I was just kinda this set piece. I had to anticipate what he wanted and do that. If I got it wrong, he’d get this look, and I’d just know it’d be mental warfare for weeks.” I sighed, forcing some of the tension from my body. “I didn’t know that wasn’t normal; I thought everyone’s life was like that. Then I got older and, I started pushing back, and… Mom got us out of there. And… that was good.”
“That is good. I’m glad she did that.”
“Me, too.” I slid my menu in front of me. “What about you? What was your childhood like?”
“Um… I was an awkward little know-it-all who spent most of her time with books. So… pretty awesome, actually.”
My mind conjured the memory of the little room in the library where she’d taken me the summer before. I pictured her in her mid-teens—the only age I remembered her from when we were growing up—carrying books clasped to her chest, reading quotes about love and longing.
A smile spread across my lips. “That is awesome.”
Logically, I knew we lived hours apart, and opening myself up to the infatuation I’d harbored for her wasn’t wise. The likelihood of us becoming something sustainable was low. But I enjoyed being with her too much to completely ignore the thrill of these feelings growing in my chest.
I lowered my hand to the tabletop, palm up. She laid her fingers on mine, and we curled them. Her short nails pressed into my flesh but didn’t dig. Her eyes were brown pools, lined in sweeping dark eyelashes. I was being pulled into their depths, adrift and happy to be there.
Until the front door of the restaurant swung open, and a wave of voices poured into the dining area. Familiar male faces filed in.
Hazel’s jaw dropped, not even having to turn around to know exactly who just walked into the building. “No, they are not here.”
My laugh was more of a cough. “They are.”
“But they were supposed to go—”
“I know. They’ll sit somewhere else… it’s a big building.”
Then I saw a shitty sneer pull at the corner of Shane’s mouth, and our stupid high school rivalry came back to me in full force. We couldn’t stop getting in each other’s way back then—going after the same girls, trying out for the same position on the baseball team. It had been annoying, and he’d been an asshole. I had the suspicion his basic personality type hadn’t changed since then.
“I doubt it,” she said.
I squeezed her hand reassuringly, even though I felt less sure. “We’ll tell them we’re here together.”
She rolled her eyes. “I love that you think they have boundaries. The only boundary these people recognize is city limits.”
As if on cue, Shane Briar called out, “Sweet, Hazel and Eli already got a seat.”
“Leave them alone,” Nora’s voice called from the back of the crowd, but I couldn’t spot her.
Shane led the way past the apathetic hostess.
I half stood, and gestured between me and Hazel. “Hey guys, we’re kinda—”
“Come on, help me push these tables together.” He pulled chairs out from the neighboring empty four-top. My hands fisted under the table, my biceps flexed. The sensation of my body preparing to fight happened so quickly, it completely caught me off guard. But then Shane had always been able to get a rise out of me. His annoying-ass face had a direct line to my worst character flaws.
I forced my hands flat on top of my thighs.
“Are you all really this oblivious?” Nora asked with her arms open, but the men were set to their task.
“Let’s not push them together,” I said, my irritation sharpening my unheard words.
“It’s fine.” Hazel shrugged.
“What’s fine?” Sterling stood next to Nora before his crystal blue eyes met mine. He must have seen my exasperation and understood the situation. “Oh shit, yeah, guys, come on. We’ll sit somewhere else.”
“Why?” Bill Mueller lifted his bushy eyebrows as he reached for the chair between me and Hazel.
“Yeah, why?” Shane feigned innocence.
“It’s fine,” Hazel said again.
My shoulders fell in resignation. “Bill, I’m gonna sit there.”
“Here?”
I nodded.
He shook his head, confused. “Okay.”
Lowering into my new spot, I shifted to face her fully. I tried to tune out my ornery emotions as easily as I turned my back to Shane. Under the table, my knee brushed hers. I was determined to look on the bright side. I hooked my ankle around hers and said, “I guess this could be worse.”
An adorable smirk played at the corner of her mouth. “I guess it could.”
Then Dennis took the empty seat next to her.