Chapter 15 Nikki
Nikki
I rush around as I always do at the end of my shift, making sure things are put away and the counter is sparkling so Rochelle has an easier time locking up.
I don’t have to, but I know she appreciates it.
It was one of the things my mom instilled in me.
Always leave things how you would like them to be left for you.
“Here they are.” Rochelle comes through the kitchen and my mouth immediately waters.
Sutton ordered two pizzas to take away, and my stomach growls just smelling them.
I’m going home to a dinner of canned meat and peas, which sounds as appetizing as eating my own arm. “There’s that stomach again, girl…”
I try to brush it off. “I’ll be eating soon enough.
You don’t need to worry.” I feel a strong connection to Rochelle.
When Mom died, we had no one until Maribel turned up.
Since that relationship didn’t work, I’ve been hesitant to lean on any other mother figure, but Rochelle is kind, warm, and loving.
The kind of woman any child would want for a mother.
She nods, albeit reluctantly. “How are those bikes working out for you?”
“Oh, they’re great. Might be one of our best finds yet.”
“That noticeboard is your lucky board, I would say.” She grins wide as I smile in agreement, but then my stomach rumbles again, catching her attention.
“I’m fine.” I put my hand up to stop her offering me food again.
“Are you, though? Are you okay, darlin’?” Her voice is laced with concern, and I swallow. She looks at me knowingly. I could tell her. I could tell her all about my life, my father, my mother, how we ran away. But I swallow any words that threaten to escape.
“Yeah, Rochelle. I am. Everything will be okay,” I tell her with as much assurance as I can muster. Her frown is immediate, seeing right through me, so I ask, “Do you need me to do anything else before I leave?”
“No, darlin’, you always do too much. Go, take that boy home and settle in for the night. It’s just started to rain again.” I look out the window, seeing the heavy drops landing against the glass and my shoulders sink. James and I are going to get wet, but at least we have our bikes now.
“Ready to go, buddy?” I deliver Sutton’s pizzas to his table and get James to pack up.
“Where’re your bikes?” Sutton looks at me as he stands.
This man at full height gives me butterflies every time.
Today more so than ever, in his blue jeans that fit him too well and his white t-shirt that shows exactly how much time he spends in the gym.
I don’t know how it’s possible, but he seems bigger and bigger every week.
My eyes do a quick once-over as my heart rate escalates.
As I look back up at him, he’s watching me.
Shit. I never check out guys. A few guys in college, maybe, but that feels like a lifetime ago.
Dating hasn’t been on my mind for a long time.
I guess the fight for survival does that to a person.
But now, in this quaint town, in the family-friendly diner, where life has felt more secure, the woman in me starts to bloom.
Sutton’s lips quirk, and my cheeks heat.
I feel his hand then, his fingers touching mine by our sides.
Our hands hidden between us, no one else can see, but a few of his fingers curl around a few of mine, and for a split second, I forget to breathe.
“Out back. Why?” I answer his question about a full minute late. James struggles with his bag, and I break our hold to help him out.
“You can't ride home in the rain. I'll put them in the back of my truck and give you a lift.”
I freeze a little, not expecting it. “Ahhh… you don’t have to do that.”
Sutton gives me a grin that doesn’t contain the usual sympathetic look most people offer.
“I know.”
“No, I mean, we can ride home.” I follow him out the back door and immediately come to a stop. The rain is a complete downpour, not just a little sprinkle.
“You’re not riding home in this. Stay here and hold the pizzas so they don’t get wet.
” He moves to where the bikes are parked, picking up James’ in one hand and mine in the other and my mouth hangs open.
His white t-shirt is almost immediately see-through, arms bulging from the weight of the bikes and his shoulders strong.
I’ve never seen his movies, but I’ve seen the posters.
They may be airbrushed, but his muscles are all his.
“James, jump in the back, it’s unlocked. ”
James runs out before I can stop him, and I stand under cover, holding the two hot pizzas that continue to make my stomach cave in on itself as I watch this all unravel.
Sutton grabs him and lifts him up and inside before going back to the bikes, lifting them into the back, all the while getting completely soaked.
“Let me help.” I start to move, feeling bad that I’m not doing anything.
“You stay right there.” His voice stops me in my tracks, and I look up, seeing him striding toward me. All tall, dark, and handsome. His face and hair are wet, droplets of water running down him.
“You’re a bit wet…” Is that my voice? I sound like a harlot as Sutton’s smile turns into a seductive smirk, and I think I almost trip.
“Hmmmm, you will be too in a minute. Let’s go.
” He grabs the pizzas, and we both run to his truck before I can think too hard about what he said.
He has the door open for me in a flash, and as I pull myself up, he gives the pizzas to James, before coming back to me, ensuring I’m inside and closing the door.
Chivalry didn’t die like I thought it did.
I wipe the water droplets from my brow, trying to pull myself together, my body hot and thrumming while my clothes are a damp and cold contrast.
“This pizza smells sooooo good…” James murmurs from the back, just as Sutton jumps into the truck.
“Everyone alright?” He looks from me to James and back again.
His hair hangs over his forehead a little, droplets falling from the ends.
The water from his scalp runs down his temple, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
Before I think about it, my hand shoots out, brushing the water from his brow before it hits his eyes.
We both still. The action catches us off guard, and I snatch my hand back like I’ve been burned.
My heart thuds in my ears. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright.” His smirk is in full effect. “I kinda like your hands on me.”
I want to die. I want my hot cheeks to ignite me into a raging ball of fire and end it all right here.
We look at each other, the tension thick, and I swallow, needing to dampen my dry throat.
I have no idea what’s gotten into me today.
But after a few weeks of him watching me from afar, his kind gestures, his help with James, I’m starting to see that this man is much more than just a movie star in hiding.
“The pizza’s getting cold!” James interrupts us from the back, and we both chuckle, the tension relieved for now. As Sutton starts the truck, I look down his body again, seeing just how transparent his shirt is up close and just how big his muscles are. It’s not helping my flush.
I look away, my gaze straight ahead at the parking lot as I tell him, “You didn’t need to do this, you know.”
His fingers reach over to my chin, and he lifts my gaze to meet his, my cheeks turning redder at being caught out. Again.
“I like your eyes on me like that, Tinker Bell, but right now, we need to get you home and fed.” His grin is wicked, and as if on cue, my traitorous stomach rumbles so loud it can be heard from the next county.
But what he said distracts me from that embarrassment. “Tinker Bell?”
He drives us out of the diner and onto the road. Going slow in the rain.
“Tiny. Cute. Spirited, Enchanting. Pretty fitting if you ask me.”
He has a nickname for me? I lose my breath before my brain starts working again. “You know, the name Tinker Bell comes from the old English term tinker, referring to a metalworker who repaired pots and kettles.” I internally cringe. I have no idea why I’m even talking at this point.
Sutton barks out a laugh. “I like when you do that.”
“Do what?” I ask, biting the inside of my lip.
“Spout out those quirky, intelligent facts about things.” He looks from the road to me quickly, smiling.
“I don’t spout things.”
“Yeah, you do. You told me all about old coffee the other day.”
I think about what he’s referring to. The little tokens of facts usually fly out so quickly, I barely register them anymore.
“They’re just little tidbits,” I murmur.
“Okay, well, tell me something about rain?” he says playfully. I shouldn’t lean into it. Just like I shouldn’t smile when I see him or miss him when I don’t.
“Raindrops aren’t tear-shaped. They’re more like hamburger buns due to air resistance.”
James groans. “Now I feel like hamburgers.”
Laughing lightly, Sutton asks me, “How do you know all these things?”
“Nikki’s the smartest person I know,” James’ voice pipes up from the back, and I sink into my seat, zipping my lips.
I clearly can’t be trusted with my body or my voice around this man.
But I find myself grinning as I wrap my arms around my legs and cuddle into the warm, luxurious heated seat of his truck.
It's nice to feel a little more like me.