Chapter 13
Declan
It takes about four and a half minutes of sitting next to Elsie in a crowded, noisy restaurant, brushing elbows as she studiously ignores me, to decide I’m going to pursue her.
Fuck whatever rule I set for myself about not hooking up with anybody in Port Myles. That rule should have been chucked out the window the second I laid eyes on Elsie, all feisty and mad about her parking spot, hazel eyes blazing, with that damn braid I wanted to wrap around my fist.
Elsie’s elbow nudges my forearm and I barely catch her muttered, “Sorry.”
Our table is packed, with Sean at one head of it, Frankie to his right, then Grace, Olivia and Cam.
Eddie sits at the other end of the table, with Maya to his right, then Ty, Elsie and I.
I could see the protest in Elsie’s eyes when Ty tugged her town into the seat beside him, putting her right next to me.
At least she was polite enough not to say anything.
I don’t mind, though. I kind of like how hard she’s resisting whatever she’s feeling for me.
Because she is feeling something, though I’d be willing to bet she won’t admit that even to herself.
I see it in the way she avoids my eye, but can’t help glancing my way when she thinks I won’t be looking.
Unfortunately for her, I’m always looking. I can’t help myself.
Before I can decide how to play this, a woman approaches our table.
“Hi, Mom,” Olivia says, and everyone else around the table, my friends and coworkers included, echoes with a chorus of, “Hi, Mom.”
“Congratulations to all of you,” she says, smiling at each of us who had our opening day today. “First round of drinks is on the house.”
Everyone whoops and cheers around me, and drink orders are called out and jotted down by the server standing with Olivia’s mom. I order my usual Coke, making a mental note when Elsie asks for a blueberry mojito. Very Maine of her.
The server gives us some time to figure out what we want to eat and Elsie is quiet, studying her menu like she’s never seen it before.
It’s cute. I know for a fact that she and her friends come here often, because one of the customers I tattooed today told me so.
Everyone in this goddamn town seems to know her, and it makes me jealous in a way that I know isn’t rational.
I hardly know her. Doesn’t seem like she wants to know me.
But this weird part of me feels like she’s mine, somehow, and I find myself wanting to wring the neck of everyone who gets to claim a little piece of her in a way I haven’t yet.
It’s time to change that.
“Elsie,” I say, and she nearly jumps out of her skin. One of her knees bangs into the bottom of the table and her elbow bumps mine again.
“Are you okay?” Ty asks from her other side.
“Yes,” she squeaks out. “Fine.”
Ty leans forward to peer around her at me. “You might need to approach her like a wild animal,” he suggests. “Move slowly, hands out in front of you, maybe provide a snack?”
“Fuck off,” Elsie fires back. Ty tosses his head back in a laugh.
“I’ve never heard you curse before. I’m honored.”
Elsie rolls her eyes and buries her head in her menu again, apparently forgetting I was trying to speak to her.
“Elsie,” I say again, a bit gentler this time. She still flinches, but at least she doesn’t bang into anything.
“Yes?” she asks, still studying her menu. I keep my eyes on her face, waiting for her to break, to spare me even just a fleeting glance.
She doesn’t.
“Look at me,” I finally say, the words coming out more like a command than the request I’d meant them to be. My voice is all gravel and heat, but it’s loud enough in here that she might not notice.
My eyes zero in on the way her throat bobs before she sets down her menu and turns slightly toward me, her eyes settling on mine. I make another mental note, one that has my dick twitching.
Takes commands well. Good to know.
“Are you going to ignore me all night?” I quirk one side of my mouth up into the smirk that seems to irritate her to no end, just to see if I can get a rise out of her.
It works. Her eyes narrow and I’m reminded of the Elsie who told me off for stealing her parking spot before we’d even been introduced.
The one who marched right up to a stranger on the street and told him exactly what she thought of him.
I know now, from the pieces I’ve gathered talking to people who know her, and from watching her interact with customers all day, that that’s not Elsie.
She’s sweet. She’s kind. She’s a friend to everyone in this town, by the sounds of it.
Even Ty had never heard her curse until just a few minutes ago.
What is it about me that brings out that side of her? Does it mean I rattle her just as much as she seems to set me off-balance?
“I’m not ignoring you,” she insists. “I’m deciding what to eat. That’s what we’re supposed to be doing.”
“I bet you have that entire menu memorized already.” The way she starts blinking furiously tells me I hit the nail on the head.
“What is it that you want, Declan?”
“To get to know you,” I tell her honestly. “Is there something wrong with that?”
She rears back, clearly not expecting that answer.
I wait, not wanting to push my luck. Maybe Ty was onto something with his wild animal analogy. She spooks easily, and at any second she could take off running. I don’t have any snacks to help tempt her to stay, though.
“Why?” she finally asks.
Good question. It sounds shitty on my part, but I’ve never felt the need to get to know any women I’ve been interested in.
Though I really can’t remember the last time I was interested in someone, at least beyond the bedroom.
Or the back alley behind a bar, or the back seat of the beat-up truck I drive when it’s too cold to ride my bike.
I haven’t been all that picky over the years.
I find women to hook up with to scratch an itch.
Sometimes it goes well and it becomes a regular thing, sometimes it doesn’t.
I date casually, never letting anything or anyone last long enough to become serious.
A few have tried over the years, but for the most part, the women I spend my time with are on the same page as me – just looking to have a good time.
What is it about Elsie that has me wanting more?
Fuck if I know. I’m in over my head here, treading water in unchartered territory.
I haven’t so much as kissed her yet and I can’t get her out of my head, can’t stop making a mental list of all the things about her that I want to know.
She’s a puzzle in my head with too many missing pieces.
I can’t help wanting to collect all of them to get the full picture of Elsie.
“I just want to know you.” The words slip out of me before I can stop them, surprising both of us.
She opens her mouth and closes it, then repeats the motion again. I can practically see the wheels turning as she weighs her options.
“Okay,” she finally says.
Okay. You’d think I just won the Nobel fucking Peace Prize, the way my chest puffs out and I sit up a little straighter, thrilled that Elsie’s giving me something. Turns out I’m the wild animal, chomping at the bit for any scraps she’s willing to throw my way.
Fuck, I don’t even care.
“Have you always lived in Port Myles?”
We’re interrupted by the waiter returning to take our orders.
Elsie orders a caprese panini with a side of fries and I fill in another blank in my mental list. I order a burger with fries and whatever the fuck aioli is.
I heard Elsie order it for her fries and apparently that meant I had to order it for mine, too.
“Good choice,” Grace calls from across the table. “The fries are to die for.”
I nod in acknowledgment before turning back to Elsie. I worry the waiter’s interruption killed whatever fleeting desire she had to talk to me, but she launches into her answer before I have the chance to ask again.
“We moved here when I was a freshman in high school,” she explains.
“I grew up in a small town in Vermont, but my dad is from Maine. He went to college in Vermont and stayed because he met my mom. I don’t really know why they decided to move back to Maine.
I was a teenager who was mostly just upset they were making me move, though I didn’t tell them that. ”
“How come?”
“How come I was upset?”
“No.” I grab my Coke and take a sip. “Why didn’t you tell them?”
Her brow furrows, like it hadn’t even occurred to her.
“It’s just… not something I do.” She shrugs, like it doesn’t matter.
All these years later, I guess it doesn’t.
“I’m a people-pleaser,” she admits ruefully, like it’s a character flaw, something to be ashamed of.
“It seemed easier to keep the peace than make a big fuss about it.”
Before I can ask any more on the subject, she turns the conversation on me. “What about you? Where are you from?”
“I thought this was supposed to be my time to get to know you,” I remind her.
She offers me a small smile and my world tilts on its axis. Just the slight quirk of her mouth and I’m done for.
I’ve seen her smile before. Watched her chat and laugh all day long with her customers. But it’s the first time that she’s smiled at me.
I’m a hoarder, a collector of all things Elsie. I immediately want more. I want to do whatever it takes to have her look at me that way again.
“It works both ways,” she says. “If you’re going to get to know me, I want to get to know you, too.” She blushes and I want so badly to reach out and cup her cheeks, to feel the warmth of her heated skin beneath my palms. I grab my drink for something else to do and take another sip.
“I’m originally from Portland, but I haven’t lived there in a long time.”
“Where have you been living?”