Chapter 17
“Waterspouts are the ocean’s version of a plot twist.”
—It’s science
Iris
I was a nervous wreck.
I hardly got any work done at all today. Partially because Cora came to the office with me in the morning and was chatting it up with everyone, telling them about the new rain and river gauges she was installing. Mostly, though, it was nerves from my upcoming date with Hector.
I chose not to take a lunch break today so that I could leave early. My plan was to rush home, shower quickly, style my hair and makeup, and get dressed all within the hour before Hector arrived.
Things hadn’t gone according to plan though—mostly because I had a mild freakout being in my apartment alone.
The day before, Hector had walked up with me to make sure my new locks were secure.
Then, my sister had been with me last night and this morning.
Now, after coming home from work, I was alone for the first time in my apartment since someone had broken in.
It started well. I even made it into the shower and started fixing my hair. But when I was getting dressed and just about to start my makeup routine, I heard a noise. It sounded like someone scratching at my window…or maybe it was my door.
I freaked. I raced into my bedroom, where my phone had been charging on the nightstand, and just as I was about to call 911, the scratching happened again—this time louder.
I looked up in the direction of the noise to see the tree branch outside my window scraping against the glass—just like it had done many other times before when it was windy.
I went through all the emotions. Pissed at myself for freaking out over something stupid. Angry that the person who broke in was having this impact on me even days later. Scared because I didn’t know what to do since I lived alone and really didn’t want to move.
I sat on the bed for a few minutes to calm my nerves and wipe away the tears from my face, but it must have been longer than I thought. Two loud knocks on the door had my body jerking back, startled. I glanced over at my phone to see that it was 5:59.
Hector.
Crap. I hadn’t finished my makeup. Or put on my shoes. Did I remember to put on deodorant? I couldn’t remember where I had left off. Now, in addition to all the other emotions I had gone through, I could add panicked and frantic to the mix.
Two more loud knocks. I knew I needed to let him in, but I didn’t want him to see me like this. Especially since I had been crying and hadn’t fixed my makeup yet.
Too late now.
I went to the door, hoping to let him in and turn quickly so he didn’t see my face and then finish in the bathroom. Most guys wouldn’t care if you needed five more minutes, right? Well, he didn’t have a choice.
I looked through my peephole. Dear God. He had on dark jeans and a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked mouthwatering.
Opening the door, I may or may not have openly gawked at him.
His chest hair was poking through the top of his shirt where it was unbuttoned, and I may have even drooled a little.
And those jeans…They fit him like a glove.
Unfortunately, pausing to ogle him was the wrong choice because it gave him a chance to see my face.
His face went from neutral when I opened the door to anger and concerned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, not waiting for me to invite him in, putting his hand on my stomach and pushing me back inside and closing the door behind him before I even had a chance to realize my mistake.
“You were crying. What happened?”
Well, crap. There went my chance of covering up the red splotchiness on my face.
His hands went to cup my face as he tilted my head up. “Iris, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“I heard a noise while I was getting ready and freaked out,” I told him, my body slumping in embarrassed defeat. “It was just the tree branch by my bedroom window, but I thought it was someone breaking in, and I panicked.”
He pulled me in closer to his body. Feeling his warmth and scent wrap around me made me feel safe, and I just let everything pour out of me.
“Once I realized what it was, I started crying because I hate being that dumb, scared person who is afraid of their own shadow. That made me even more emotional, and I just started freaking out more because I don’t want to move apartments, but I feel weird about my space being violated.”
“You can stay with me tonight,” he said calmly, his fingers stroking my face softly.
“Hector, I love your place—I do—but I don’t want to be scared of my own place. I need to be able to stay here. I don’t want this person to take that away from me.”
I sighed again. Both my emotions and my pride felt like they had taken a beating.
“I get that, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I don’t have Sarge with me, and I can’t leave him all night. Let’s stay at my place tonight, and then I’ll bring him over tomorrow after work, and I’ll stay here on the couch. We’ll ease you back into your place until you aren’t scared anymore.”
This man.
“Pack a bag, and we’ll go to dinner,” he said.
“Okay,” I answered, wiping underneath my eyes. “Can I have another five minutes to fix my makeup?”
“Yeah, but you don’t need it,” he said softly and then kissed my forehead.
I sighed and leaned forward to rest my head on his chest. As I wrapped my arms around him, I whispered, “Thanks.”
Not giving him a chance to respond, I turned and started to walk back to my bathroom when he spoke again.
“Iris,” he called out, and I looked back at him. “I really like that dress,” he said with a small grin, which made me smile, knowing I had made the right call with this outfit.
Hector took me to a really nice Italian restaurant. We sat in a cozy half-circle booth, which allowed us to sit next to each other but at an angle so we didn’t have to turn our bodies fully to see each other during conversation.
The restaurant had soft lighting all around, and a blend of Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, and Sammy Davis Jr. played in the background.
“You okay with this place?” Hector asked. “I didn’t think to check to see if you liked Italian food.”
See—super sweet and just didn’t realize it.
“Yes, I love Italian food,” I responded as a slow grin took over his face.
God, he was already attractive, but when he made that slow, sexy smile, parts of my brain short-circuited.
Unfortunately for me, it short-circuited the part of my brain that regulated speech, because it rendered me incapable of saying anything intelligent for the next sixty seconds.
Of course, this happened to be when the waiter came up.
“Could I interest you folks in some wine?” he asked, and Hector looked at me expectantly.
In my defense, my brain was not working fully, so I blurted out the only thing that came to mind.
“I like wine. Italy has one of the best climates for wine, thanks to its sunny, Mediterranean climate.”
See, this is what happened when I got nervous. I started to spit out random facts—usually weather or climate related because that was what my brain knew best. But it was also awkward because, most of the time, no one asked for these facts…or cared.
Taking pity on me, Hector ordered a glass of wine and a water for each of us before the waiter walked away.
“Have you been to Italy before?” he asked me.
“No, why? Have you?” I returned the question.
“No. You just seemed to know a lot about it, so I wondered if you’d been there.”
“I would love to go there someday, but I really just know facts about places if they are related to my job or weather,” I explained as another random thought popped into my head that I had a compulsory need to share.
“Did you know that outside of the U.S., Italy has the most waterspouts of any other country?” I asked, continuing right into my nervous babble without giving him a chance to respond.
“Though Spain and Greece also report them every year too. I love waterspouts because even though they are basically just tornadoes over water, unlike tornadoes, you don’t have to have a strong thunderstorm to create them.
They have what’s called fair-weather waterspouts that can happen on sunny days. ”
I watched as he scooted closer to me and then put his hand to the side of my face, pulling me in for a kiss. It was soft and quick but still just as incredible as his kiss from the other day.
After he pulled back, I realized he had a small grin on his face.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“You’re cute when you get nervous and start spouting random facts,” he said, the grin on his face growing, which only made him sexier.
“Sorry,” I told him, dipping my head.
I was glad to know he wasn’t bothered by it but instead found it amusing. It didn’t mean I wasn’t still semi-embarrassed by it.
“Hey,” he said, startling me out of my thoughts, and put two of his fingers under my chin to lift my head.
“I’m not much of a talker, Iris, but I enjoy listening to you talk.
I don’t care if it’s about yourself, your family, your job, or just some random thing you find interesting.
If it’s important or interesting to you, then I want to hear about it. ”
I was falling deeper and deeper for this man every minute I spent with him.
I took his cue and did most of the talking at dinner.
Hector just listened with that steady focus of his, adding a word here or there when it suited him.
To anyone nearby, he probably looked like his usual grumpy self, while I sat there waving my hands and talking a mile a minute.
We had ordered our food and were just enjoying each other’s company. I looked around the restaurant, enjoying the aesthetic, the menu, the waiter, everywhere and everything, taking it all in. But every time I looked at Hector, his eyes were always on me—deeply focused.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked as I took a sip of my sparkling water.
“You,” he said candidly.
I smiled at him. “Oh yeah? What about me?”