Chapter Twelve
Chase
Ipulled open the door to Annabelle's Café, my lips already curving into a smile, my heart beating faster at the thought of seeing Annabelle.
She'd become the high point of my day, the minutes and hours with her snatches of time, stolen and treasured.
Day by day, it was getting harder to wait. I was late tonight. It was almost eight, and I was hoping Annabelle would let me hang out while she closed, get some work done. Maybe help her out.
Hipster man-bun guy still hadn't agreed to move back to nights and she was still closing the café alone. I'd never tell her straight out that I happened to show up shortly before eight and stay until she was done because I didn't like her alone in the café at night.
She'd beat me over the head with one of her cast-iron skillets for that. Didn't make it any less true.
My gut twisted into a knot when I saw the café was mostly empty except for a man in a suit, briefcase in hand, talking to Annabelle at the counter.
I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I didn't like the body language. His or hers. He leaned forward, getting in Annabelle's space, his slicked-back blonde hair gleaming in the bright overhead lights, his smile smarmy.
Predatory.
Annabelle stood, shoulders stiff, arms crossed over her chest, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed in a glare. Something feral inside me clawed its way out of my chest and I had to consciously force it back.
I wanted to take the guy by the arm, rip him from the counter and shove him forcibly out of the door. Annabelle was beautiful. It wasn't her looks, it was everything about her. Her smile, her boundless energy.
It didn't surprise me to know she attracted male attention. Hell, she'd attracted mine the first time I laid eyes on her. But this guy didn't seem to get that she wasn't interested.
I hated the tightness in her jaw. The clench of her fists.
Her voice was low, but I caught a snatch of the conversation and it turned my gut to ice.
"You need to go. Now. I'm done talking to you."
Whoever this guy was, he wasn't a customer looking for a date. This was something else.
As I walked into view, Annabelle's warm brown eyes settled on my face and sheer relief washed over hers. She flashed the bright, brilliant smile that always dove straight to the center of my heart, bringing light everywhere she cast it.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey, Chase, I was wondering where you were." To my utter shock, Annabelle came around the counter and walked up to me, fitting herself to my side and sliding an arm around my waist, beaming up at me, affection and familiarity written all over her.
The guy at the counter took a step back, his dark eyes turning to stone. "Who the fuck are you?" he demanded.
Leaning into me, resting her cheek against my chest, Annabelle gave him a cool smile. "This is Chase."
She didn’t offer his name, and I didn’t ask for an introduction. As happy as I was to finally have Annabelle in my arms, her need for reassurance, for a barrier between her and this guy, was alarming.
She’d been so careful to keep a distance between us.
Whatever was going on with this guy, it was bad.
I wrapped my arm around Annabelle, holding her tight to my side, angling her slightly behind me as I studied the guy who'd been bothering her.
Dark suit, slicked-back blond hair, pink tie. Expensive briefcase, good shoes. He looked like all the other corporate drones at Winters, Inc. Not the right guy for Annabelle.
And yeah, I know, I was working at Winters, Inc., too.
But, number one, that was only temporary. I worked for myself. I didn't want a boss, even if that boss was family.
And number two, I didn't wear a suit. I wore whatever the hell I wanted.
So far, Gage and Aiden didn't seem to give a shit. They just wanted the work done. Neither of them would cut that kind of slack for a regular employee, but there were benefits to being family.
I couldn't resist dropping my cheek to the top of Annabelle's head, breathing in the vanilla scent of her shiny, cinnamon hair. She melted into me a little and I turned my head to press a kiss to her hair.
"Long day?" I murmured.
"Mmm," she answered, settling into me even more.
I closed my eyes for a heartbeat. If I could end every day like this, I'd be a happy man, even if it meant I'd soon be doing dishes or mopping the floor. Annabelle paid me in brownies and sandwiches. Considering that she was a fucking fantastic cook, it was an excellent trade-off.
"Annabelle," he barked, infuriated to have lost her attention. She went stiff in my arms, burrowing further into my side.
"Don’t ever talk to her like that," I said in a low voice, conscious that there were still customers in the café. This asshole might not care about embarrassing Annabelle, but I did. "I think Annabelle wants you to leave."
I dropped my mouth to the side of her face and whispered, "You want him gone?" She nodded into my chest.
"She wants you out," I reiterated. "Go before I call the police. This is her place, and she has the right to refuse service."
The guy stared at us for another second before shaking his head in dismissal. "This isn’t over, Belle."
Annabelle straightened a little and met his eyes. "It is over. I meant what I said. Don’t come back."
"We’ll see." At that parting shot, he stormed through the front door. The second it shut behind him, Annabelle tried to ease away from me. I tightened my arm.
In a low voice, I asked, "Who was that? Why was he bothering you?"
"It's no big deal." She tried to pull away again, and again I tightened my arm.
Under my breath, I said, "Hang on a sec. I want to talk to you, and I know you don't want your customers to hear."
Getting my point, Annabelle stayed where she was, but instead of soft and pliant, she was stiff, trying to put distance between us even if it was measured in millimeters.
I shouldn't have taken advantage, but I couldn't resist nuzzling my cheek against the top of her head one more time. She smelled so good. Warm sugar cookies with a hint of something beneath that was all Annabelle.
I wanted to strip off her clothes and see if she smelled that good everywhere. I wanted to make her come and see her smile at me, relaxed and replete. I wanted to stay like this, my arm wrapped around her long, lean frame, her body tucked into mine. Protected. Safe.
I planned to have all of those things eventually. But not yet. Annabelle wasn't ready. I would push on little things, like kissing her hair when I had her in my arms, but on the big stuff, we were on her timeline, not mine.
Annabelle wasn't a quick fuck. I wanted so much more than that from her. And more required trust. I could wait for trust.
I'd been on the sidelines for some of Violet and Aiden's courtship. I'd missed the beginning, fortunate for them because if I'd been around it never would have happened in the first place.
Aiden Winters was not who I had in mind for my Vivi. But, neither of them had trusted the other. Not really. Not where it counted. That lack of trust had almost torn them apart.
No one could tell me I didn't learn from my mistakes. I never saw a mistake as failure. I saw it as a lesson, and the best lessons were those someone else had to learn for me.
So, trust. I would be patient. Annabelle was worth waiting for. It still took everything I had not to turn her in my arms and put my mouth on hers. If I didn't suspect she'd drive her knee straight into my balls, I might have been tempted to try it.
My gut said it wasn't time. Not yet. I hadn't been waiting this long to fuck it up now.
"You’re not going to tell me?" I murmured against her temple, my lips barely tasting her skin.
"Why? Are you going to go after him and beat him up?"
"Don't try to distract me. It's not a joke. Why was he bothering you?"
Annabelle sighed, the tension leaking from her shoulders. She melted into me again, shaking her head against my chest, brushing her temple against my lips. "Chase, I promise, I have it under control."
"Does that happen a lot?" I asked, knowing she wasn’t going to explain. "Customers bugging you?"
"He wasn’t a customer. And not really. Sometimes. Trust me, annoying customers hitting on you happens a lot less to baristas than it does to bartenders and cocktail waitresses. I know. I've done that, too. At least here I get to make brownies and I don't get my ass pinched. Most of the time."
Fighting down the growl that rose in my throat at the thought of some guy putting his hands on Annabelle's ass, I said tightly, "Anybody pinches your ass, you point me at him and I'll make sure he never touches anyone again without permission."
Annabelle shook against me and I realized she was silently giggling. "You don't need to beat up every guy who comes in and hits on me," she said, the laughter warbling in her words.
"I do if they’re making you uncomfortable."
I said what I'd been holding back. If I wanted her to trust me, I had to be honest, even if she wasn't going to like it.
"I don't like you closing by yourself. I know this is your place, and I know you can handle it.
But I don't like the way it looks to customers, you here on your own, and them knowing you're vulnerable.
What if somebody hides in the bathroom when you lock up?
Do you have an alarm system? I've never seen you set an alarm. "
"I check the back and the bathrooms after I flip the sign,” she protested, "and I do have an alarm. I usually set it from upstairs."
"Can you set it from down here? When you lock the door at eight?"
"I guess. There's a panel in my office in the back hall. I don't usually bother."
"You should bother. If you won't do it for yourself, will you do it as a favor to me?"
"Chase, this is the Highlands. There are bright streetlights right outside the front door and there's still street traffic at 8 o'clock, people going to restaurants and bars. It's not like I'm isolated."