Cristiana Chapter 2
Cleaning my apartment was a Sunday ritual for me.
I didn’t necessarily like it, but it had to be done, and throughout the week, I didn’t have time.
If I could afford to pay someone to do it, I would.
I got through it by listening to music or an audiobook and becoming lost in them, while I performed the mindless tasks.
However, today, using those methods isn’t possible.
I couldn’t get my mind to stop replaying last night at Lustz.
My observation plan had been blown to pieces.
The first reason had been one I would’ve loved to avoid.
Rhys’s eagerness to have a drink and talk had scared me in a way.
I was leery of any pushy man. It made me think of him, and that was never a good thing.
I knew it wasn’t fair to men to be that way.
They could genuinely be nice guys whom I might become interested in, if I allowed myself to be.
But these days, that carefree approach is no longer in me.
Caution was my middle name, along with skeptical.
If I lingered on the reason why, I became depressed and angry, so I pushed past it to focus on the second reason my plan had gone awry. That reason had more than made up for Rhys’s pushiness. Seeing Mikhail was a welcome surprise, as was spending time with Tajah and her best friend, Cady.
I found Cady a blast once I caught on to her personality and her brattiness. Her husband and brat handler, Hoss, was a great guy who adored her, and Cady loved him. The hour I spent with them in Tajah and Mikhail’s old apartment was a lot of fun. I laughed more than I had in months.
However, the other person involved in my rescue and the impromptu gathering had disturbed me.
He didn’t do it in the same manner as Rhys.
In Reuben’s case, it was how he fascinated and aroused desires within me.
Those desires had been banked or non-existent for a long time.
I hoped that living in a new place would eventually allow me to recover enough to enjoy myself.
But I assumed it would take a lot of talking and time for someone to do it.
In Reuben’s case, it was immediate. And rather than celebrating this fact, I was resisting it.
This kind of instantaneous attraction was a red flag for me.
I’d been there, had it, and learned a hard lesson.
What made it scarier for me was that the intensity of my desire for Reuben was off the charts compared to him.
I couldn’t allow myself to even think of his name.
I’d made the mistake of allowing myself to form a relationship with the last person who had impacted me hard.
I jumped into it and paid the price. Hell, I was still paying the price, and my entire life had changed because of it.
That left me battling my attraction to Reuben, which was proving difficult to resist.
I argued with myself as I scrubbed the bathroom.
Stop this nonsense. Here you are, all gaga over him, but nothing says he even finds you appealing.
He hardly said much after you were introduced.
He made no moves on you. You didn’t catch him checking you out or mentally undressing you.
Forget it. Reuben isn’t interested. You’re safe.
I know all that, but I still can’t stop.
He’s the most alluring man I’ve met in my life.
Yes, his physical characteristics were what first caught my attention, but then there was this vibe he exuded.
It shouted he was a Dom and would be able to make his submissive do anything and feel everything.
Even not knowing what he’s into, I sense it, I explained to myself.
Yeah, tell me about those looks, my inner voice taunted.
No woman in her right mind could overlook him.
He’s tall, probably just over six feet. For me, that’s tall with my short ass.
He’s clearly Hispanic, too. It’s written all over him without knowing his name, Reuben Davila.
Not that I only find Hispanic men acceptable.
His skin is a few shades darker than my own.
His hair is almost black and thick. His eyes are so brown that they appear nearly black.
Those eyes, I’m convinced, can see into my soul.
His refined nose, strong jaw, covered in a five o’clock shadow, bold cheekbones, and that kissable mouth are irresistible.
However, he has to have the body to go with that face to make himself even more tempting.
Did you see how physically fit he is? His tailored dress clothes do nothing to disguise this fact.
He has muscles, but not the overblown kind that some guys have.
He takes care of himself, but isn’t a gym rat.
He’s hot and sexy in his suit. I wonder what he looks like in less, a lot less. I groaned.
Then you need to see if you and he click, my inner instigator said.
No, I can’t. And enough arguing with myself. You make me sound crazy, I shot back and then closed my mind to any more inner monologue. Jesus, talk about sounding like a nut. I often wondered if other people got into these inner discussions with themselves, or was I the only one? Probably.
Having finished the bathroom during the debate, I left it to work on the kitchen. I’d done the dusting, tidying up, sweeping, and mopping first. Then I went into a deep clean of the kitchen and bathroom. Thank goodness I had only a one-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment. If it were a house, I’d cry.
When I was through with the kitchen, I stretched to work the kink out of my back. I groaned at the pull and pain of it. Knowing that sitting down wouldn’t help me, I went to the bathroom. I hated messing up the clean shower, but I wanted to leave the house, and to do that, I had to be clean.
Starting the shower to warm the water, I stripped and tossed my sweaty clothes into the hamper.
I did my laundry during the week. I didn’t have a massive amount, so it was doable with my work schedule.
I tossed things in and out between work tasks.
This method made me take small breaks rather than sit there all day working.
I was guilty of not taking pee breaks if I was immersed in an audit.
The water felt good and helped loosen the knots in my body.
I took my time and washed my hair while I was there.
When I’d had enough, I shut off the water and got busy.
A half hour later, I was set and going out the door.
It was cool outside, so I wore a thick sweater.
There was no snow yet, thankfully, so boots weren’t required.
My good old tennis shoes would do. My clothing consisted of leggings and a tunic, belted at my waist.
I had a lusher body than a lot of women.
My shorter stature made me appear even more so.
I’d come to accept my shape in my twenties.
Funny enough, it was becoming involved in the lifestyle that made it happen.
I discovered there were plenty of guys who found my body more than acceptable.
I refused to hide it as I did when I was a teenager and in my early twenties.
Despite the perception of my curves, I was healthy and exercised.
I made sure to eat plenty of fruits and vegetables to keep myself healthy.
I wish it were summer so I could go to the farmers’ market I found right after I moved here.
It was large and filled with so much I used.
You couldn’t beat the freshness of the produce.
In the winter, you had to rely on what the grocery stores had, and most of it wasn’t in season, so in my opinion, the produce lacked taste.
But I still bought it for the sake of my nutrition.
Reflecting on where I wanted to go, I decided to browse the used bookstore in town and then stop by the grocery store to pick up a few essentials. Usually, I order my stuff online and pick it up, but I thought of a few recipes I wanted to try this week and didn’t have all the ingredients.
The area of Nashville I chose to live in was called Germantown.
As the name suggests, early German settlers settled in a concentrated area.
No doubt to feel more comfortable and to surround themselves with those who spoke the same language and understood their culture.
What I loved about it was that it mixed both old and new architecture.
It featured a mix of Victorian-style homes and modern buildings to suit all residents.
While I loved the Victorian look, what I could afford had me in a contemporary apartment.
Germantown consisted of approximately eighteen blocks and was located north of downtown.
It bordered the Cumberland River on the east side.
To the west was Buena Vista, and further north, you hit North Nashville and Salemtown.
It was diverse, and that was something I loved.
I enjoyed wandering around on foot, but not today.
Carrying my purchases home forced me to drive.
I’d check out what was new in the neighborhood another day.
Twenty minutes later, I was parked and entering the bookstore.
It took me that long to get there due to traffic.
Nashville was growing and attracting more people, which meant the traffic was increasingly heavy.
It wasn’t a place for those scared of large crowds and vehicles, or if you wanted to get everywhere in a hurry.
I inhaled the scent of paper as I entered.
It was a smell I loved, and that was why I still bought paperback books, despite having an e-reader.
Nothing beats that scent for me. The attendant smiled and said hello.
I returned it, then headed to where I wanted to browse.
My first stop would be the cooking section, and then on to my favorite, which was also the one I would spend the longest time perusing—the romance section. It encompassed half of the small store.
I checked the cooking section, but was disappointed.
There were no new books that caught my interest enough to buy them.
I enjoyed finding and trying new recipes of all kinds.
It didn’t matter if it was Asian, Mexican, Spanish, French, Lebanese, Indian, Italian, or good old American. All that mattered to me was the taste.
Moving over to the romance section, I began on one end and worked my way across.
I started checking to see if there were any new books by my favorite authors.
There were a couple I hadn’t read, so I grabbed those.
Next, I went to the subgenres I liked. What was terrific about this store was that they categorized romance books by subgenre, making it much easier for customers to find the type of books they preferred.
For me, mafia, paranormal, military, motorcycle club, and erotic romances were my preferred reads.
Not to say I never deviated, but it had to be a book with a title or cover that attracted my attention, followed by a good blurb on the back, to make me choose any book.
If it were written by one of my favorite authors, those books were an automatic buy.
There was no need to read the back of them.
I ended up spending two hours there. After purchasing my books and chatting with the clerk, I got back into my car and headed off to the grocery store.
I went to the one closest to my home. As expected, the parking lot was rather full.
No surprise, since many people waited until the weekend, when they were off work, to do their shopping.
Oh well, I had to do it. Those recipes I found online last week were calling my name.
I had my list of ingredients, but I still went to check out the produce and bakery.
I often found things there that I wanted.
Despite that, I was efficient with my time, and it only took me half an hour to get everything and be in line to check out.
As I stood there, letting my mind wander, a feeling of unease crept down my spine.
It was so intense I shivered. Twisting my head, I scanned the perimeter around me.
However, I saw nothing to account for the sensation.
Even though I saw no one paying particular attention to me, my heart sped up. This feeling had happened before. Only then, it was when I lived in Memphis, and there had been someone watching me.
Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no way it’s the same thing.
You’re still upset over that Rhys guy from last night, I told myself.
However, I wasn’t sure I believed myself.
The poor cashier had to tell me the total three times before it stuck, and I paid for my purchases.
Giving her an apologetic smile, I picked up my bags, hanging them from one arm.
I kept the other free and close to my side.
I kept scanning my surroundings as I walked outside and to my car.
Again, no one was visible who was paying any attention to me, let alone too much.
Hastily putting my bags in the car, I hopped into the driver’s seat, locked the door, and got it started.
My drive home was tense. However, by the time I arrived, the sensation was gone.
Not letting my guard down, I quickly got my purchases inside behind a locked door.
After putting the bags onto the counter in the kitchen, I walked around my apartment.
I closed all the open curtains, which were the ones in the kitchen and living room.
With that done, I put away my groceries and books.
It wasn’t time to cook dinner, so I found myself without anything to do.
Usually, when this happened, I’d read. Now, I wasn’t sure I could concentrate.
But it was that or stare at the ceiling or watch some dull television show.
I opted for a book. I was right. It took me a long time to concentrate enough to get lost in the story. Darkness fell as I read, and I forgot about my unease.