Chapter 12 - August #2
The motorcycle growls beneath me, matching the pulse in my veins.
I take off hard, fast, like I’m outrunning everything I feel.
She screams like she’s free-falling. Of course, she’s loving this.
Chaos suits her. So does the back of my bike.
Her laughter is raw and wild, the sound of someone fearless, and it pierces my armor. One more crack I can’t seal.
We pull into the back lot behind Jack’s Diner.
It’s the kind of place that hasn’t changed its decor since the Cold War.
Food is decent and the price is right, so it’s always packed, inside and out.
Subzero temperatures have chased customers inside, leaving only us to dine outside, where I prefer the privacy.
I kill the engine and keep my helmet on, letting the silence stretch while she hops off my bike, a temptress in boots.
Her smile is the first thing I see when she removes her helmet. “My treat. I insist since you’ve been overly generous. What do grumpy stalkers eat? Blood? Guts? Hearts?”
“Whatever’s left after I scare the soul out of them,” I reply.
She sets the helmet on the back seat. “Ohh. You want fries with that?”
“I want a side of glitter and sass.” I spank her on the ass and dismount.
At the outdoor window, she orders a double cheeseburger, fries, onion rings, and a soda. I wave her away when she goes to order for me. I already ate. Fed, fueled, and ready for the chaos she strikes. Rule number one—Don’t go into a mission or fake friendships on an empty stomach.
When the food arrives, she inhales it, telling me she hasn’t eaten in a long time. My guess is she didn’t have the stomach for it the last couple of days, after having to deal with her boss.
The smell of fried oil, heat from the food, and the chill in the air contrast with the warmth she expels.
The damn vixen licks grease and salt from her fingers and nudges the bag of fries my way. “Here. Surely grumpy stalkers eat fries?”
Clever. Another attempt to get me to take off the helmet.
Not happening, glitter sista.
“Only on Fridays,” I deadpan, pushing them back.
Now’s a good time as any to divert her attention, and I remove the wrapped ornament from my pocket, setting it on the wooden picnic table with a click.
“This is for you,” I say. “I made it. Grumpy stalker special.”
She scrubs her hands with her napkin. “Another gift? You’re spoiling me, hubs.” I wait for a quip about severed fingers that doesn’t come.
I smile inside my helmet as she unravels the unicorn, and her eyes widen and lips part like she’s forgotten to breathe. Glass shimmers with swirls of purple, pink, green, and blue of the animal’s mane.
“You made this?” Her voice is soft and sacred.
She lifts it to the light from the restaurant, and the orange tail and red horn glow like fire. One ear is a little wonky, but the horn came out twisted and perfect. Miracles happen.
I rub my knuckles. “I work the furnace, kneeling oven, blow torch, and tools most spare nights I have, which aren’t many. Call it my form of relaxation, minus the smut.”
She smiles at that last part, stroking the unicorn’s mane like it’s priceless, and that’s all the thanks I need.
Equipment like that isn’t cheap. Katar diverted funds for me from the fortunes of Romans to purchase it as a little fuck you to them for destroying my career.
“The colors remind me of your hair,” I say. “The unicorn is flawed, but strong. Survived the fire, reshaped in the furnace.”
Her fingers still on the glass. She understands my meaning.
She holds a piece of me that I don’t know if I’ll get back. And it frightens me to think she might know what it cost to make it.
“I’m calling him Glitterhoof,” she whispers with a dazed smile that sucks the air from my lungs. “He’s coming with me everywhere. Don’t be jealous.”
God help me. I smile again, wider. “Promise me he won’t be used to stab a certain fucker in the hand.”
She cradles the gift to her chest with a mock-horror expression. “Glitterhoof is my precious! I wouldn’t dare.”
The night air bites through my jacket, and my body twitches to shift seats, sit next to her, and throw an arm over her. Except, she’s glowing, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy from laughter, unaffected by the cold.
“Thank you for getting me out of there last night.” The words sound like they stick in her throat.
I clear my throat. “You didn’t deserve that. And you’re welcome.”
“How long have you been watching me?” She dips her fry in and out of the ketchup. “I mean, a morally gray guy doesn’t make a girl a glass unicorn every day.”
She’s fishing for information again, or a reason to trust me.
I nudge the half-empty bowl of fries closer. “Enough gushing. Eat.”
When she’s finished, she blows out air and pushes aside her food.
“Let me take you home to listen to more smut.” I stand and climb off the picnic seat.
“Bonus observant stalker points.” She smiles as I take her rubbish and toss it in the nearby trash can.
We ride home, her snug against me. Her cheek rests on my back like she trusts me, a weight I don’t know how to carry. Soft, warm, and fucking devastating.
Bad idea, Glitter Bomb.
Outside her place, I cut the engine and stay on the bike.
She alights and peels off her helmet with a dramatic sigh. “Thanks for the ride, Grumpy Daddy.”
Our hands brush as I take the helmet. If only I didn’t have gloves separating us. “Get inside where it’s warm.”
She doesn’t leave and places her hands on the side of my helmet. “I want to kiss my stalker good night.”
My hands twitch at my sides, aching to reach for her. Tuck her hair behind her ear. Touch something soft and real.
“You shouldn’t want that from me,” I murmur, not moving, letting her take what she needs. “Not from me.”
Her thumbs brush the edge of my visor, searching for a crack in my armor. I let her linger a beat too long, then pry her fingers off me before I do something reckless, and she uncovers what’s underneath.
Her smile falls. “Why not? I thought you wanted a side of glitter and sass.”
If I start, I’ll never stop. I’ll take everything. Her breath, body, pussy, and fucking soul. And I’ve got no business asking for it.
“I’ll only hurt you,” I whisper.
“I know what this is,” she says. “I don’t do princes and fairytales. Only villains. Bad stalker for not paying attention.”
This is supposed to be friends, but I’ve gone from zero to one hundred in the space of forty-eight hours.
“And don’t judge my life choices, Grumpy.” God, help me, I like it when she calls me that. “Villains burn the world down for their princesses.”
Underneath her words, I feel her need for someone who won’t leave or flinch at damage, and I can’t promise I’ll stay when things get dangerous.
What the hell is my love language? Touch? Sacrifice? Savior complex? Murder? The last time I let someone in, I wrecked her. I’ve got no business trying again. But Kate… she’s not safe, and I can’t watch her suffer when I can stop it.
My resolve crumbles when she needs comfort.
She doesn’t let me give it and turns away. “Good night, Grumpy Stalker.”
Fuck, I hate myself for not giving her what she deserves.
For a full minute, I let the engine idle, waiting for her to wander up to her door and enter. I should leave. Let this go. I’m already in too deep. But I don’t. I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.