5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
SETH
This had to be by far the craziest thing I'd done. And I run into burning buildings for a living. But going on a fake date just so I didn't have to deal with women who wanted to sleep with me? Something had to be wrong with me.
The door to the small townhome swung open and I couldn’t stop my gaze from trailing down her body. Violet’s style was definitely…weird.
So why did I like it so much?
The short-sleeved, dark purple top she wore zipped up the front, the neckline dipping low to reveal the deep valley between her breasts. A short black skirt was paired with her signature fishnets, and my eyes followed the toned curves of her legs to black come-fuck-me high-heeled boots.
I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, trying to hide my obvious reaction to her outfit.
“Ready?” Damn. I cleared my throat, that single word sounding husky even to me.
A smile lit up her face. “Not sure people will believe we’re on a date if you’re glowering at me the whole time.”
“I glower at everyone. People annoy me.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped out on the landing, pulling her door shut behind her.
Turning to the side, I waved down the sidewalk, getting in step next to her. I itched to reach out and place my hand on the small of her back, but I shoved my hand in my pocket instead. This wasn’t a real date.
Once we reached the car, I opened the passenger side door and she brushed past me, her sweet floral and honey scent floating up and invading my senses.
I couldn’t stop myself from zeroing in on her thighs as she sat in the seat, her skirt riding up.
I swallowed as I followed a path up her body, pausing at her cleavage that, at this angle, was even more pronounced.
She shifted as she put her seatbelt on and I yanked my gaze away.
I really needed to pull my shit together and not ogle her every chance I had. I shut the door, making my way around to the driver’s side.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I pulled the car away from the curb.
She held a cord for her phone in her hand and plugged it into my car. “Putting on decent music.”
Billie Eilish began playing through the speakers. Interesting choice, although I didn’t hate it.
“What was wrong with my music?”
“It’s depressing.”
“Depressing? It’s country.”
“Yeah. Some of it’s okay. But mostly sad. Someone is always grieving something.”
“Billie Eilish isn’t much better.”
“Ehh.” She shrugged. “I only put her uplifting songs on my playlists. Same with Adona.”
“Who else do you like?” Now I was curious. I just assumed by her dark look she would be heavily into true goth music or heavy metal.
She spit out the names of ten more artists. Some I didn’t recognize, but the mix she mentioned seemed to be mostly pop and punk rock.
“What about you? Are you strictly a country boy?”
“I’ll listen to just about anything.” I ran my hand over my head, brushing back the long lock of hair that fell in front of my face. “Classical is probably my go-to. I enjoy listening to just the instruments.”
She chuckled. “You’re an enigma, Mountain Man.”
I ignored the nickname and cocked a brow. “How so?”
“From the bear hug you gave me yesterday to classical music, you keep surprising me.”
“I could say the same for you,” I muttered with a shake of my head. From the outside, she looked dark and scary. But in reality, she smelled like sunflowers, was afraid of heights, and baked cookies.
“I like to keep people on their toes.” After a few minutes of silence, during which she gently rocked her head side to side along with a song I definitely didn’t recognize, she asked, “So where are we going?”
“The Dock.”
“Smart move.”
I smiled. It was a calculated move. I figured dinner time on a Friday evening at the town’s most popular restaurant was the best guarantee news would get around quickly.
What I hadn’t considered was how well-loved Violet was in town. By the time we were seated at our table, at least five people had stopped and talked to us. Some shot us knowing smirks, while a few seemed surprised to see us out together. Regardless, my plan was working.
Violet reached across the table and laid her hand on top of mine. A zap traveled up my arm and shot south. I went to pull my arm back, but her grip tightened.
“The women at the table off to your right keep staring at us and whispering to each other.” She smiled. “Pretend you like me.”
I stole a quick glance out of my peripheral. Violet was right, they were definitely staring. I turned my hand over and grasped hers, trying—and failing—to ignore how small and dainty her hand was compared to mine. How soft her skin was. How the simple touch was wreaking havoc on my body.
Almost absentmindedly, I brushed my thumb across the skin on the back of her hand, and when I felt her shiver under my touch, I raised my gaze to her face. She stared intently at her menu, giving away nothing else.
We sat like that, together but seemingly in our own little worlds, until the waiter appeared and Violet pulled her hand back.
After we ordered and were left alone once again, I leaned back in my chair. Conversation wasn’t something I was good at. But it wasn’t like this was the first time I’d been on a date.
Fake date , I reminded myself.
When was the last time I’d done this? Months? Before I’d moved here for sure. But then, that was with Lucy, and we’d been together for years before things ended right before I moved. So that was not really a first date situation.
“Did you read the comments?”
I raised a brow. “What?”
“That video of you bringing me down the ladder. Did you read the comments?”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Those women were shameless.”
She chuckled. “Some of them were pretty funny.”
“It’s a total double standard, you know. If I was a woman, that would have never happened.”
“Oh, totally.” A smirk pulled at her lips. “But most single guys would like the attention.”
“And you think I’m like most single guys?”
She shook her head. “No. I definitely do not.”
I had to smirk at the way she said it. And of course she caught it.
“Is that a smile?”
I schooled my features. “Don’t get used to it.”
As she smirked back, her tiny nose ring glinted, catching my eye. “How many piercings do you have?”
“Twelve.”
Most of them looked to be in her ears, but that didn’t stop me from wondering where the ones I couldn’t see were. My gaze traveled down to the small rose covered in spiderwebs on her right wrist.
“Tattoos?”
“Three,” she said before adding, “but I want a few more.”
And now I was back to thinking about the places on her body that weren’t currently visible.
“I had a place I liked in Asheville. Shame there aren’t any shops here in town.”
I blinked and forced my gaze back to her face. “The drive to Asheville isn’t far.”
“I know.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
She shook her head. “No, I grew up in New York. Went to college at Western Carolina. Lived in Asheville post-graduation for three years before moving here. What about you?”
I debated how much I wanted to tell her.
Typically I offered the least possible amount, if anything, of personal information.
So what was it about this woman that made me want to answer her questions?
Not that it mattered, because she didn’t even give me the chance to reply before she jumped in with a different question.
“Do you have other tattoos, besides the one on your right shoulder?”
Once again she surprised me, detouring from what I expected. And why did I like it so much that she noticed my tattoo? “Yeah. One on my calf and another on my back.”
“I’m surprised Mr. Serious has tattoos.” The corner of her lips lifted into a smirk.
I didn’t see the connection, so I just shrugged. I also didn’t see myself as super serious. I just didn’t like people. Or, rather, I found them exhausting.
After a moment of silence she asked, “Where are you from?”
“Charlotte.”
“Why’d you move here?”
I let out a long sigh. Apparently our detour was over.
How did I answer this? Sticking to the most basic of truths seemed like the best course.
“I decided I wasn’t cut out for life in a busy city.
A house in the mountains and small-town life is more my style.
Although now I’m second-guessing if I’m actually going to get more peace and quiet here. ”
She shrugged. “Eventually. The town will invariably move on to something else and the whole ‘ save a ladder, climb a firefighter’ thing will be long forgotten.”
I rolled my eyes at the reminder of the ridiculous caption. “Does it not bother you?”
“The video?”
“Yeah.”
“Not really.” She chuckled awkwardly. “But I don’t let much bother me.”
One of the siblings of the family that owns The Dock stepped up to our table with our food, placing it down in front of us. “Seriously, first Logan and now Seth? I really need to stop by the firehouse more often. They seem to be dropping like flies,” she directed at Violet with a wink.
I rolled my eyes. She was ridiculous. Anytime we came in here, she would shamelessly flirt with any or all of us. I couldn’t remember what her name was, I only remembered her as the flirty one with different colored hair that changed every few months. She turned her gaze on me, and I sighed.
“You guys should make T-shirts with that ‘climb a firefighter’ caption, by the way. I bet every woman in town would buy one.”
I shook my head. “No.” We were definitely not making fucking T-shirts. Jesus.
“Just saying.” She shrugged. “Enjoy.” She directed that single word at Violet before shooting her a wink and walking away.
“She’s my favorite.” Violet’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Makes me laugh every time.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
While Violet and I ate our food, we continued to chat between bites. And by the time the check came, I realized something.
I actually enjoyed having dinner with her.