Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
T he smell of coffee and old books swirls in the air as I wipe down the counter for what feels like the hundredth time. My arms ache from a morning rush I didn’t think would ever end, but there’s something oddly satisfying about the chaos. The chime of the bell above the door signals another customer, and I glance up, ready to greet them. Instead, Victoria appears, balancing a tray of mugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“Still alive back here?” she asks, her grin as warm as the latte she handed me yesterday.
“Barely,” I admit, leaning on the counter. “Do people always drink this much coffee?”
Victoria laughs, setting the tray down. She’s wearing her usual oversized cardigan and a pair of glasses perched on top of her head like she forgot they’re not on her face.
“This is nothing,” she says, grabbing a rag to help me with the counter. “Wait until finals week. Then it’s like a caffeinated apocalypse in here.”
I groan dramatically, and she nudges me with her elbow. “You’ll survive. You’re doing great so far.”
“Thanks,” I say, though I don’t entirely believe her. Earlier I accidentally gave someone a hot chocolate instead of a cappuccino, and then I nearly broke the espresso machine trying to figure out how to steam milk. But Victoria hasn’t yelled at me yet, so that’s something.
She steps back and surveys the counter. “Perfect. Ready for round two?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope,” she says cheerfully, tossing the rag into a bin.
The door chime rings again, and this time it’s a middle-aged woman holding a small, yappy dog under her arm.
Victoria leans closer to me, whispering, “This is Mrs. Delaney. She orders the same thing every day: a half-caf soy latte with one pump of vanilla, extra foam, but she’ll tell you it’s wrong no matter how perfect it is.”
“Got it,” I say, trying not to let my nerves show. I had a crash course in making drinks this morning, but there are so many combinations that it’s dizzying. I do have a tablet that is a cheat sheet, so that has been very useful.
Sure enough, Mrs. Delaney approaches the counter with a scrutinizing look. Before I can say anything, she launches into her order. I nod and get to work, trying not to mess up. Behind me, I hear Victoria humming to herself as she straightens a display of books near the register .
When I hand the latte to Mrs. Delaney, she takes one sip and frowns. “This isn’t quite right,” she says, shaking her head.
I panic for half a second before Victoria swoops in like a superhero. “Let me fix that for you, Mrs. Delaney,” she says, her voice so smooth and sweet it could pass for caramel syrup. She winks at me when the woman isn’t looking, then pretends to pour something in, swirling it with a wooden stick before handing it back.
Mrs. Delaney leaves a moment later, finally satisfied, and I exhale in relief.
“See?” Victoria says, leaning on the counter next to me. “Piece of cake.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “If that was cake, I’d rather starve.”
She bursts out laughing, and for the first time since I started working here, I feel like I might actually belong.
Now, I’m walking out to meet Sin. Since I knew he was taking me on a date after my shift, I brought a change of clothes.
I’m not exactly sure where he’s taking us, but to be safe, Bria helped me choose an elegant yet casual option: a cream romper with an ivory handbag. Over it is a beautiful petticoat she let me borrow, as the fall chill is beginning to take over New York.
I, of course, am wearing my magnolia necklace and a golden bangle on my wrist.
The aromatic scent of coffee lingers outside of the cafe as I stand on the sidewalk looking for Sin. When I don't see him, I call. “Hi! Your text said you were here, where are you?”
“I’m right beside you, Magnolia.”
Hearing his deep accent never fails to make butterflies dance in my stomach. I look to my right, seeing nothing aside from the open door of Alice in Brewland. To my left is a black car.
I pull on the back handle, but it’s locked. “Shit, Sin, I just tried to get in someone’s car . Where are you ?” I say in a hushed, hurried tone.
“Open the passenger door,” he quips.
I inhale before tugging on the handle, opening it to find a grinning Sin in the driver’s seat. I slip into the cool tan leather seat, noticing the stack of dealership paperwork resting on the center console. “You didn’t!” I gawk, my hand covering my mouth.
“I did.” He grins. “And it’s a write-off, so don’t freak out, okay?”
“I told you not—” His finger lays on my lips, silencing it.
“I just said not to freak out.” He gives me a pointed look.
This luxurious four-door, black Mercedes… is mine?
“This is insane,” I chuff, looking around the gorgeous interior, admiring the minimalistic features and wide screen that displays everything. “Sin, you know that I don’t even know how to drive, right?” I laugh. “Like, I don’t have a learner’s permit or anything.”
“That’s why I’m going to teach you. You don't have to have your learner's permit if you're over eighteen; you can jump straight into getting your license.” He pulls onto the road, cutting the ongoing traffic off, making me question whether he’s the best instructor for me.
I snort, embarrassing myself. “I wouldn’t pass the test.”
“That’s what practice is for.” He shrugs nonchalantly.
I gesture to the busy city streets. “I’ll kill everyone.”
“We’re going somewhere a little more… uninhabited.”
Once we're out of the traffic-laden city, zipping down winding country roads, I get a sense of home. My entire life was spent in the countryside of New York. Everyone may think that it's all tall buildings and bustling streets, but the majority of the state is like this. Serene.
The tires hum against the road as we wind through the curves. September wind makes the maples and oaks coated in varying shades of burnt umber and yellow. The air is crisp, and I crack my window to let it in, the faint scent of leaves and woodsmoke curling around me.
Sin is looking devilishly handsome as always in the driver’s seat, one hand resting on the wheel, the other relaxed on his thigh, his fingers drumming absently.
“Look at that,” I say, pointing out a farmhouse perched on a hill, its porch wrapped in pumpkins and cornstalks. “It’s like a postcard.”
He glances over, his lips curling into a smile. “Want me to buy it for you? ”
I laugh as if he’s joking, but I’m also sitting in a car that he bought just for me. “No, I love the city. Maybe when I’m older I’d like to have one by the water, though.”
“We could make that happen.”
I nod, my heart thudding a little faster than I’d like. Did Sin just assume we would still be around each other when we grow older? The thought seems too ridiculous to fathom. I try not to frown, wondering what this even is between us.
Everything feels bright and sharp in his presence: the sunlight through the leaves, the way he looks at me out of the corner of his eye when he thinks I’m not noticing.
The road dips, and a small creek appears alongside us, glittering in the sunlight. “Let’s pull over,” he says suddenly, slowing the car.
“For what?”
“You’ll see.” He grins, playful and boyish, and my chest tightens upon seeing him in this manner.
The further he gets from the city, the more relaxed his shoulders become; you can tell his lifestyle has an effect on him.
We step out into the chill, the leaves crunching underfoot as he leads me to the water’s edge. He leans to pick up a smooth, flat stone, then flicks it toward the surface. It skips once, twice, three times before sinking.
“Not bad,” I say, crossing my arms against the cold.
He hands me a stone. “Your turn.”
I laugh, but I try anyway. The rock plunks into the water without a single skip, and I groan, embarrassed. He’s laughing now, the sound low and warm. “It’s all in the wrist,” he teases, reaching for my hand and winking. I know what he can do with those wrists, and the thought of his fingers sends shivers down my spine.
And just like that, we’re standing closer than we have all day, his hand guiding mine, the air between us electric.
The countryside is quiet around us, but all I can hear is the sound of my own breath, and his, mingling in the crisp autumn air as he guides my hand, showing me how to skip rocks.
“You’re quiet,” he notes, his voice soft, almost teasing as I skip another.
I smile, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Just taking it all in.” Nervously, I don’t want to admit that this feels more like a date than anything I’ve ever known.
“What do you say you take over?” He gestures back towards the car. The face I give him must be hilarious because he doubles over in laughter, throwing his arm around me. “You’re going to do great.”
“What if drive this brand-new car directly into the river? Will you be so chipper then?” I quip.
He shrugs. “It has insurance, but we won’t need it.”
I pan around the empty area. “Where is your detail?” I ask.
He shakes his head, opening the driver’s side door for me. “You don’t need detail when you're with me.”
A small laugh escapes me as I climb behind the wheel. “I don’t mean for me. I mean for you because you’re about to get in the passenger side with a woman who doesn’t know how to drive.”
My fingers tremble as I hold the wheel. My knuckles are white as I grip it, and I glance nervously at the narrow country road ahead. River to my left, yawning fields to my right. “I think a parking lot would have been safer.”
“Relax,” he says, his voice calm, almost teasing. He’s sitting in the passenger seat, one arm draped casually over the console, the other resting on the door. “You’ve got this. We’ve seen, what, ten cars since we left the city?”
“I don’t,” I say, biting my lip. “This feels… unnatural.”
He chuckles softly, the sound low and warm. “It’s just a car. And the road isn’t fighting you, I promise.”
I glance at him, and the look in his eyes steadies me; something about the quiet confidence like he knows I’m capable even if I don’t. I take a breath, loosening my grip on the wheel. The car wobbles slightly, and my heart jumps.
“Good,” he praises. “Now keep your eyes ahead. Let it come naturally. You don’t have to control every inch of the road.”
I try to focus on his words, but his nearness is distracting. The way he leans in just enough to see the speedometer, his shoulder brushing mine, his voice soothing.
“You’re doing fine,” he assures me. “See that bend up ahead? Ease into it. Don’t fight the turn.”
I nod, exhaling as I guide the car into the curve. It feels smoother than I expect, the tires gliding over the road. My grip on the wheel softens a little more.
“There you go,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “See? Not so bad.”
“It’s terrifying,” I retort, but I can’t help the small laugh that escapes my lips. His laugh joins mine, rich and full, filling the space between us.
“Okay, now gently—gently—press the brake,” he instructs, pointing toward an upcoming stop sign. His hand hovers over my left knee, just in case, and the reassurance settles me more than the words.
I do as he says, the car slowing smoothly. When it comes to a full stop, I let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and pride washing over me.
He looks at me, grinning now. “See? You’re a natural.”
I shake my head, but I’m smiling too, my heart pounding a little less wildly. “You’re too optimistic.”
“No, I just know you,” he says, his tone quieter now, almost tender. “You’re tougher than you think.”
His words hang in the air, warm and steady, and I feel a flicker of confidence where there wasn’t any before. I grip the wheel again, glancing at him for a final nudge.
“Ready?” he asks, his hand brushing mine briefly before settling back on the armrest.
“Ready,” I reply, and this time, I almost believe it.
The engine purrs as I ease the car forward, the gravel crunching softly beneath the tires as we leave the stop sign behind. The road stretches out ahead, flanked by golden fields and trees that bend gently toward the sky. With every passing second, my confidence grows, inching its way into the tight spaces where doubt used to sit.
“Let’s pick up the pace a bit,” he says, his voice easy, like we’re out for a stroll and not hurtling down a long stretch of road .
I press the gas pedal, just a little, and the car responds. The sensation of speed makes my stomach flip, but his presence steadies me. He’s not watching the road as much as he’s watching me, that quiet smile still playing at the corners of his mouth.
“You’re doing great,” he says. “Feel the rhythm of the road. It’s not about controlling it; it’s about working with it.”
“Working with it?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “You make it sound philosophical.”
“Driving is philosophical,” he retorts with a smirk. “You’ve got to trust yourself, trust the car, trust the road. It’s a relationship.”
“Pretty deep for someone who cuts people off in traffic,” I tease, the tension in my shoulders easing.
He laughs then, throwing his head back for a moment. “I only do that in the city. Out here, it’s all about the flow.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile creeping across my face. I guide the car around another bend, the movement feeling smoother now, almost natural. The trees create a canopy overhead, their leaves flickering with sunlight as they dance in the breeze. I could do this all day, but driving in the city sounds like a nightmare.
“Now, let’s try pulling over,” he says, pointing to a spot by the side of the road where the grass has been worn down into a makeshift shoulder. “Slow and steady, just like before. Gentle on the brake.”
I follow his instructions, the car easing to a stop. My hands fall from the wheel, and I sit back, exhaling like I’ve just conquered a mountain .
He turns to me, his face glowing with pride. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “For you, maybe. My heart is still racing.”
“Well, then,” he says, unbuckling his seatbelt, “we’ve got to celebrate your first lesson. Come on.”
“Celebrate?” I ask, watching as he steps out of the car. He circles to my side and opens the door, extending his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me,” he says, the corners of his mouth lifting in that easy, lopsided grin that’s impossible to resist.
I take his hand, letting him pull me out. The grass is soft underfoot as he leads me to the edge of a small hill overlooking the countryside. The view is breathtaking—rolling fields, distant farmhouses, a setting sun that could make any girl’s breath float away.
“This,” he says, gesturing to the world in front of us, “is what driving is about. Freedom. Moments like this. That’s why I wanted you to have a car, to give you that feeling you are so desperately in search of.”
How does he know me so well?
His hand is still holding mine, and I glance up at him, my pulse quickening for reasons that have nothing to do with nerves. There’s something in his gaze—steady and warm, like he believes in me more than I believe in myself.
“You did good today,” he says softly. “I’m proud of you.”
The words wrap around me, quiet but powerful. The first time I have ever heard those words spoken by anyone other than myself. I squeeze his hand, the tension from earlier melting away completely. “Thanks for being patient,” I murmur.
He tilts his head. “You make it easy.”
I laugh, nudging him lightly, but the way his eyes linger on me makes my heart flutter.
The moment feels suspended, like the world has slowed just for us. And for the first time all day, I feel completely in control—not of the car, but of myself, of this newfound freedom he has granted me.
I stand in his arms, tucking my head against his chest as we watch the sun set together.
“Can I keep driving?” I ask, wanting to continue making him proud.
“That’s my girl.”
As I slip into the driver’s seat again, I hesitate at the darkened road ahead. “Are you sure? It’s so… different after dark.”
“That’s exactly why you should,” he replies, circling around to get into the passenger side. “Driving at night sharpens your instincts. And I’m right here with you.”
I take in a deep breath; it’s no biggie. Just driving me and this man I am desperately in lust with on dark, curvy roads.
You’ve got this, Magnolia.
An ease of comfort overtakes me as the tires go over the pavement, gliding through the curves at a steady speed. I roll my window down, feeling the brisk, cool air filling the interior.
Sin leans over, his fingers trailing my inner thigh. “How am I supposed to pay attention to the road, Mr. Donati?” I stammer.
The control I felt earlier is flowing away now, leaving me with nothing but longing for him. “Distracted driving, are we, Ms. Finley”
Pulling my lip between my teeth, I try to ignore him.
He won’t allow it.
He’s so incredibly tall and angular, it takes only a simple lean for his lips to be on my neck. “You taste divine.”
With a little more force than was probably necessary, I pull off onto the shoulder.
Sin is just sitting there now, acting as if he didn’t just cause my entire body to shudder with mere words. He’s relaxed in the passenger seat, one arm draped over the back of his chair, his eyes on mine. The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s holding back a smile, and I can’t take it anymore.
I unbuckle my seatbelt, my hands trembling slightly, and before I give myself time to overthink it, I move. I climb over the console, awkward at first, my knee bumping the center console, but he doesn’t laugh—his hands come up instinctively, steadying me by the hips as I settle into his lap.
“Hey,” he says softly, his voice low and surprised, but there’s a spark in his eyes now, something darker, more intense.
I don’t answer. I just lean in, my hands resting on his shoulders for balance, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure he can feel it. His breath hitches, and then my lips are on his: tentative at first, testing the waters.
But then his hands tighten on my waist, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepens. The world outside the car falls away, leaving only the heat between us, the soft sounds of our breaths mingling, the sensation of his fingers pressing into my sides like he can’t bear the thought of letting go. And God, maybe I feel the same way.
I can feel his heartbeat beneath my palms, fast and steady, matching my own. The faint scent of him—something warm and familiar—fills the small space, and I lose myself in it, in him.
His lips move against mine, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second, and I can’t help but smile against his mouth.
When we finally pull back, my forehead rests against his, our breaths mingling in the charged air. His hands stay on my hips, his thumbs brushing slow circles over the satin fabric of my romper.
With a quick flick of his hand, the fabric between my legs is ripped apart, giving him full access to me. I shudder at the swipe of his finger, long, slow, deliberate.
The gentle touch ignites a fire within me, sending shivers of anticipation through my body. I arch my back, silently begging for more.
I rock my hips against him, feeling his hardness.
His eyes lock with mine, dark with desire. "Tell me what you want," he growls, his voice husky.
I can barely form words, lost in the sensations. "You," I manage to gasp. "I want you."
A wicked grin spreads across his face. He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. "Then you shall have me," he whispers.
His lips crash into mine in a searing kiss as his hands continue to rip apart my clothes. My breasts spill out of my now ruined top, and he takes my nipple between his teeth, gently nipping as I grow wetter with each stroke of his finger.
With his other hand, he unzips his pants, unleashing himself. He is rock-hard, and I bite my lip looking down.
Without another word, he grips my waist with his strong hands, lifting and then plunging my body down onto his cock. I moan in pleasure from the way he fills me.
I take control, riding him and realizing just how badly I need to work out from the burning sensation in my calves, but it only adds fuel to my pleasure.
Hearing him moan is one of my favorite sounds.
Who am I?
No, I won’t allow my upbringing to torment the here and now. I want to feel the ebbs and flows of this pleasure, to delight in it. Not scorn it.
I arch my back as he takes control, one of his hands on my ass to lift and the other on my shoulder to slam me back down against him. I rock in pleasure in his hands, unable to form words as he continues to fuck me like a doll.
A warm sensation spreads inside of me as he moans my name. I know, he knows, everyone knows how you get pregnant, so why did he not wear a condom?
Why were we so wrapped up in the moment to allow this to happen? Why am I gripping him harder as he seeps into me, filling me?
“That was unexpected,” Sin murmurs, his voice rougher now, tinged with a smile. “At least we christened the car.”
I smile, still catching my breath. “You’re a good teacher. I guess I just wanted to say thank you.”
He chuckles softly, his eyes flicking to my lips before meeting mine again. “Anytime,” he says, his voice teasing. “But I might need to give you a few more lessons if this is the reward.”
I slip my long jacket back on, buttoning it to the top now that my romper is a torn heap on the floorboard. “So…” I gesture down, “no protection?”
“Whatever will be will be.” He shrugs casually.
“Sin!” I croak. “I’m barely ready to start my own life, let alone raise someone else!”
“I’m teasing. I get a little injection every month that makes those little guys dormant.”
I let out an exhale. “Good.” I note a sense of sadness in his expression; maybe one day he wants kids? I know I’m not ready for that for a very, very long time.
My stomach growls at the worst moment. “I would take you out to eat, but I ruined your outfit.” He smirks. “Let’s get you home.”
We walk inside, arm in arm, smiling like fools until I see Bria and remember that underneath this coat is nothing. We tossed the torn satin fabric in the trash at a gas station .
I am excited to see her, though. “You’re home!” I try not to say it awkwardly. God, I’ve missed her.
She pulls me into a hug, and I catch Sin’s face past her shoulder. He’s cracking up over this. “This looks so cute!” She grins. “How did the romper fit?”
“It… uhh…” I don’t want to tell her that her brother ripped apart the new gift she got for me.
She tilts her head. “You okay?”
“Yes, it’s great. So cute!”
Rollins walks up, taking Sin’s jacket from his outstretched hand, then turns to me. “Your jacket, Magnolia?”
I snuggle into it. “I’m a bit cold, so I’ll keep it on.”
“Cold?” Bria’s palm gently touches my forehead. “You’re sweating. Do you feel okay?”
Why is everyone so obsessed with taking my jacket?
Sin’s casually leaning against the wall, smirking at me. “There’s nothing underneath it,” he says flatly.
Rollins cheeks burn red as he retreats towards the kitchen, but Bria takes a moment, finally understanding with a look of disgust on her face. “Eww. Sin!” She slaps his chest. “You cannot soil my friend like this.”
I collapse my face into my hands, dying of embarrassment. “I’m going to go take a shower,” I say in a muffle.
“Use bleach!” Bria laughs.
“Want me to join?” Sin suggests.
I rush up the stairs, laughing a little as she bickers with him.
I’m just spraying on leave-in conditioner when Sin walks into my bathroom. It’s marble and pink, all things girly, and it’s so funny seeing him in this space.
“Why are you getting ready for bed in here?”
I gesture to my soft cotton pajamas, wet hair, and steamed mirror. “In my room?”
“This doesn’t have to be your room. We could make it a guest room, or your reading nook.”
I snort, pulling the brush through my hair. “That would be the biggest reading nook I’ve ever seen.”
Sin is asking me to move into his room.
“I’m not ready yet.” I am, I just don’t tell him that.
I barely sleep when I’m not nuzzled against him. I don’t know what my reservations are, but living in his home and moving into his room are two very, very different things.
“Goodnight, Magnolia.” He kisses my cheek, closing the door as he goes. I nearly follow him, not knowing why I don’t.