Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
COOL IT COWBOY
Ella
“Nothing feels as sweet as being seen by him.”— E
I see you.
When was the last time someone said that to me? It’s ironic that with so many eyes on me at all times, I still don’t feel truly seen.
My parents only see what I let them see. It’s not their fault; I am too cowardly to speak up and tell them who I want to be, who I really am. I am so focused on maintaining appearances and being what everyone expects of me that I unknowingly shut my parents out and deceived them.
Now this beautiful man is telling me that he sees me, and suddenly I am on the verge of tears. Just as I am about to break down, our waitress arrives with our food. With a friendly smile, she sets down a large burger with green buns and onion rings, my Chicken Fried Steak with a side of mashed potatoes, a bottle of beer, and a tall, frosty purple glass filled to the brim with a strawberry milkshake. “Here you go, kids,” she says cheerfully before leaving to attend another table.
I look down at both plates of food the waitress has just placed in front of us, my mouth watering at the delicious aroma. Yummy. I can taste the greasy delicious goodness already.
I love sweets with all my heart, but I am a sucker for greasy food too.
Suddenly, my stomach lets out a loud growl, betraying my hunger despite having had a big salad for lunch and fruit for a snack hours before.
Shaw glances at me with a knowing smile, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. “Hungry, princess?” he teases gently, recognizing the sound of my stomach in distress.
I can’t help but laugh at being caught. “Starving,” I admit with a playful glint in my eyes as I reach for the strawberry shake.
Mom used to tease me about eating dessert before dinner, but I can’t help it. I’m a sugar addict and a foodie—what can I say?
I don’t count calories or monitor what I eat. While I do exercise to compensate for some of my bad eating habits, I don’t obsess over every pound I gain.
“Dig in, then.” Shaw’s smirk, full of playful mischief, sets off a flutter of butterflies in my stomach. I return his gaze with a shy smile, feeling a rush of warmth as his beautiful eyes hold me captive.
I pick up my strawberry milkshake, taking a small sip through the straw. A tiny smile plays on my lips as I savor the sweet flavor, my eyes glancing up at Shaw as he takes a big bite of his burger.
A moment of silence lingers as I see Shaw’s eyes gleaming with a mixture of fondness and amusement, accompanied by a half-grin.
“What?” I ask, my mouth full of fries.
Shaw leans over in the booth, his hand gently wiping a small dollop of whipped cream from my nose—proof of how I’ve devoured my milkshake. Pulling out my pocket-sized mirror, I giggle softly at my reflection, my heart full. “I’m a mess.”
“I don’t mind messes,” he mumbles, causing my breath to catch. Then, without another word, Shaw reaches across the table with a napkin, offering it to me with a playful grin. I take it gratefully, dabbing at my nose with a smile on my face.
As we finish our meal, I continue to chat enthusiastically about my social media, online classes, and family. My voice carries tenderness, punctuated by occasional laughter and animated gestures that make Shaw smile.
I exaggerate many of the things I say just to see him smile. I could watch that smile for the rest of my life and never grow tired of it.
Mid-sentence, I stifle a yawn, something Shaw immediately notices. With a subtle nod and a discreet wave, he catches the attention of the waitress, silently signaling for the check.
The waitress, noticing his gesture, swiftly approaches our booth. “The bill?” she asks, looking at the two of us.
“Yes, please,” I replied.
The waitress leaves and quickly returns with the bill.
As Shaw reaches for it with every intention of paying, he glances at me with a frown when I gently pry the bill from his strong hand. “Absolutely not. You’re not paying for your birthday dinner.” Nope. I refuse to let him pay for his own birthday dinner.
“I’ve got it,” he says, his brows furrowing in a way I can’t help but find adorable. I doubt he means for it to come across that way.
“You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings by not allowing me to give you this simple gift, would you?” I pout, a tactic I use when I want to get my way. I don’t do it often, but in this case, I do.
There’s no way he’s paying for his birthday date.
No way.
He is quiet for a long moment before reluctantly agreeing with a sour face. I do my best not to laugh but fail miserably.
While laughing, I fish for money inside my purse when the waitress surprises us both by dropping a shimmering silver paper crown onto the table.
A sense of déjà vu makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. As I leave the cash and tip for the waiter on top of the table, I notice Shaw leaning forward in his seat. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he picks up the crown and places it on top of my head.
My reaction is immediate and heartwarming. Speechless for a moment, I look up at him with wide eyes, my cheeks flush with surprise and delight. The diner seems to fall silent around us as I sit there, wearing the crown while he looks at nothing and no one else but me.
It feels like being transported back in time to when I was a little girl gazing up at a handsome guy with a brilliant smile who placed a pink paper crown on my head. But I’m no longer that little girl. Now, I’m a woman who looks at this man as if he has the power to create galaxies just for me.
Time slows down, and the people around us cease to exist as he stares at me. My heart beats wildly and untamed in my chest.
In this strange yet lovely place where waiters dress as space cowboys and cowgirls, we have found our own small corner of magic, where a simple paper crown can say more than Shaw’s words ever could.
“Let’s go home, princess.” Suddenly, my heart stops in my chest, and I am unable to find my next breath as I watch my very own charming grump rising from the booth and offering me his large hand to take.
Home. Home. Home.
Then, a flood of memories from all the places I have visited throughout my twenty-two years in this galaxy flash through my mind like a sweet home movie. As I get lost in these memories, I realize that despite having traveled to every corner of the world, I still feel, in my heart, that I don’t belong anywhere.
That’s why I never felt like I truly belonged—whether in Washington, Paris, or anywhere else. It is only in this man’s arms that I feel like I am truly home. Home isn’t a structure…home is Shaw.
With love pouring from my very being and stars shining in my eyes, I take my bodyguard’s hand and let him guide me out of the super galactic diner with a plastic crown on my head like the very first time we met.
I grip Shaw’s strong, steady hand and think to myself how I never want to let go. If the day ever comes when I have to, it will be a sad day. A day that will break my heart into tiny pieces never to be put back together again.
As we quietly and slowly make our way toward the exit of the diner, a large, drunken man with a sneer on his face and a brown cowboy hat on his head barges in with careless force, knocking into me and nearly causing me to stumble. Shaw, noticing the sudden jolt and my struggle to maintain balance, reacts swiftly. His expression turns fierce with anger.
“What a pretty little thing,” the drunken man says with a smirk, and as he staggers by, he extends his repulsive behavior by slapping my ass.
A very pissed-off Shaw moves quickly again to steady me, his strong arm wrapping around my waist to prevent me from falling to the floor.
Anger simmers in his eyes as he glares at the rude man, a silent and deadly warning clear in his stance. His bearded jaw clenches tightly, muscles tensed with the visible urge to go after the drunken jerk.
I have never seen him this angry. So thirsty to spill a stranger’s blood.
Sensing the angry tension radiating from him, I reach out my hand to gently touch his arm, silently urging him to let it go. I can feel the heat of his wrath, his protective instincts flaring in response to what the man just did to me.
Shaw’s brown eyes turn darker. So dark that if I didn’t know him, it would scare me.
With a blank look on his face, he swiftly turns his back to me and pursues the man, closing the distance in determined strides. Then, in a swift and calculated motion, he reaches out, gripping the man firmly by the neck, his fingers tightening with restrained force. The drunken man, taken aback by the sudden and firm grasp, struggles against Shaw’s hold with slurred protests and attempts to break free. He looks red from not getting enough air in his lungs. While Shaw’s expression remains resolute, his eyes blaze with a mixture of anger and very little restraint.
The people inside and outside the diner pause in their activities, watching the confrontation unfold. Some with muted interest and others with concern. While I am momentarily stunned by Shaw’s angry outburst, I stand rooted to the spot, conflicted between concern for his safety and admiration for his sweet and protective nature.
“Let him go, Shaw Bear. He’s not worth it,” I say in a soothing tone, as if I’m trying to calm a wild animal.
Through gritted teeth, Shaw’s voice cuts through the air like a blade, commanding and firm. “Apologize.” His grip on the drunken man’s neck tightens in a silent warning.
The drunken idiot, initially defiant and cocky, freezes under my bodyguard’s unwavering gaze and the palpable tension in his dark and angry voice. The man refuses to apologize and begins to spew insults. As Shaw tightens his hold and cuts off the man’s air supply, I silently watch him struggle to breathe, his face turning red and his eyes bulging from his face. “Apologize, motherfucker,” Shaw mumbles through gritted teeth, looking like a beautiful nightmare.
Realizing he is no match for my six-foot-three, two-hundred-fifty-pound frame of pure muscle, the drunken man’s bravado falters. His demeanor changes as he mumbles a half-hearted apology, his words tinged with embarrassment and fury.
I stand motionless as I watch Shaw remain silent for a second too long before releasing the man’s neck with so much force that he almost falls to the ground. As the idiot stumbles away, speaking obscenities under his breath, Shaw remains vigilant, ready to strike again if needed.
I hold my breath as I look up at him in awe, never in fear—never fear.
Turning back to me, Shaw’s murderous expression softens slightly, though the anger of the moment lingers in his eyes. Without saying a word, he motions for me to head toward the exit, silently letting me know that it’s all over and that no one will hurt me.
I never doubt it for a second. Throughout the altercation, I feel completely safe because he is there—my superhero, with anger and sadness swirling in his deep brown eyes.
Together, we walk out of the diner, Shaw’s strong presence behind me feeling like a shield of protection. At that moment, he seems like a solitary soldier trapped in the midst of a war zone.
I know his job is to protect me, but what happened just now feels like so much more. It feels like a man willing to cross any line and even kill to keep me safe and to defend my honor.
His quick change of mood and deadly threat should scare me, but it does the opposite.
I must be crazy—crazy for this man.
Confusing my silence for fear, Shaw moves from behind me and touches my cheek. “Moonshine. You don’t need to fear me. I would never—” With a gentle smile, I rise onto my tiptoes and gently press a kiss to his cheek, my lips lingering briefly before I pull back.
Shaw’s brow furrows in confusion. “What was that for?” he mumbles.
“You’ve always been a superhero, Shaw, and you’ll always be worthy. Always,” I murmur softly, my voice filled with sincerity.
He seems momentarily caught off guard by my kiss and words, meeting my gaze with a mixture of fear, sadness, and…resolve. The world around us fades away once more, and the noise quiets as if we’re standing facing each other in our own faraway galaxy. “Shaw,” I say timidly, looking up at him, worried that I might have said something I shouldn’t have.
Seconds turn into minutes as we stare at one another.
Shaw’s blonde hair is trapped beneath a black beanie. His stubble has nearly turned into a beard these days, but in every way, he is beautiful. So, so beautiful that at times I find myself wondering if he might not be real after all, if he’s just a figment of my imagination, nothing more than a dream.
He leans in closer, the brown of his eyes deepening. His tongue darts out to lick his lower lip, sending a jolt between my legs. My pulse races, thundering in my ears.
Shaw lifts a hand, his fingertips brushing the hair at my temple. His eyelids flutter closed, and his breath brushes softly across my cheek. I remain still and breathless, afraid that if I blink, I will wake up and discover that this entire magical night is just a dream.
“I’m losing this war, cupcake,” he whispers, his hot breath kissing my face.
“W-what war?” I murmur, confused while holding onto his forearm, sure that if I let go, my weak knees will give up on me.
“I can’t hold back any longer. Just tell me yes. Tell me you want my mouth as much as I want yours.”
“I—” My breath hitches. “Yes.”
But then, as if losing the last bit of control he has, Shaw’s eyes harden before he grabs me by the back of the neck and gently pulls me closer to his body. His breathing grows ragged. “That shouldn’t have happened. That fucker...” His hand tightens in my hair, pulling me closer until our breaths mingle, and he whispers, “No one touches you. No one fucking hurts you. Ever.” With that perfect promise, he seals our fate by kissing me passionately. He kisses me like no one has ever kissed me before.
I melt against him, whimpering as he slides his tongue across my lower lip. He coaxes my mouth open, and when it does, his tongue does a lazy swirl against mine. He tastes spicy and male and incredible. He tastes like mine.
My hands come to his chest, fisting his black shirt. His muscled arms band around me, holding me close, as his body, hard and strong, bends around mine. Needing more of him, I lift up on my toes and snake my arms around his neck, locking my body to his.
We kiss for what seems like hours, our tongues tangle and duel, each needing to possess the other.
Shaw nips and sucks until I whimper. This kiss was better than I ever could have imagined. All those nights I’d wondered what it would be like to kiss Shaw? The dream and all my fantasies of him couldn’t compete with reality.
He was all I ever dreamed of.
I want to crawl inside him and never leave as the world beyond us vanishes.
And as he kisses me, all I can focus on is the sheer addiction of his touch and how perfectly right it feels to be in his arms. It is as if I am meant to stay here forever.
The emotions in my chest swell so intensely that it feels as if my heart might burst at any moment. How long have I yearned for this? Dreamed of it? For years. Countless stars have been wished upon for this moment, for this man—the man of my dreams. The one I have known would always hold my heart long before I fully understand my feelings for him.
I should know exactly what to say and do at this moment, but I don’t. Instead, I pull him closer and, through my kiss, share all my hopes and dreams with him.
All of them are about him.