Chapter Twenty-Three
Chase
Ishowed up the next day at five minutes before opening to find Annabelle waiting in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, jaw set and eyes hard.
I looked past her to see the new barista, purple dreadlocks practically glowing in the bright lights.
Someone else was beside her. A guy, a little older than purple dreadlocks, with a ring in his eyebrow and a colorful tattoo sleeve.
He was setting up the espresso machine with what looked like competence.
"Another new one?" I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets.
"He left a place across town. He lives by Little Five Points and he was tired of the drive.”
"So you're saying you don't need me." I shoved my hands in my pockets, hiding the pinch in my heart.
"I really do appreciate all of your help, Chase. It means a lot."
"But go away now?" I asked, with a raised eyebrow.
If she thought I was going to disappear and forget about her, she was out of her mind.
"I think we need some time."
"Who's helping you close?" I asked.
"I don't need help to close, Chase."
"Yes, you do," I said. Leaning in, I pressed a quick kiss to the curve of her cheek and murmured, "See you later, Annabelle."
I turned and strolled down the block, leaving my car parked where it was. I was meeting Charlie at the house a little later, but she'd be there now. If Annabelle didn't need my help in the café, I'd check in with Charlie, help out a bit over there, and then head into work.
Might as well. Every hour I spent there was an hour closer to leaving Winters, Inc. More and more my head was in the new app and not on what remained of CB4 Analytics in Winters, Inc.
It had been good working with Aiden and Gage. Without that, I don't know how long I would have held back on getting to know the family better.
I didn't need the job at Winters, Inc. to be a part of the family, and I was getting impatient to shed the corporate straitjacket and go back out on my own where I belonged.
I could feel Annabelle watching me as I walked away. I was glad she had help, but she could use one more barista. I wasn't going to point that out. Not yet.
Charlie met me in the front yard, a wide smile on her face, her ocean-blue eyes sparkling.
"Almost there," she called out. "Kitchen's done! You have got to see this. You were right about the appliances, it's freaking gorgeous."
A thrill ran through my heart. I'd owned my own home before, but always condos. I'd never had my own land, even if it was the size of a postage stamp.
And the house… I stood in the front yard, hands on my hips, and looked at the house.
A hodgepodge of architectural styles that shouldn't have worked yet did, the house had the peaked gables of a Victorian combined with the beams and shingles of a rustic cottage. The windows, oversized and trimmed in black, poured light into the interior.
It was everything I never knew I wanted in a home and it was mine. Maybe mine and Annabelle's if I could convince her to take a chance on me. From the outside, it looked ready for me to move in.
Charlie grabbed my arm and tugged me to the front porch and the open door. The buzz of a saw poured through. The entry was covered in paint-splattered drop cloths.
Charlie was right. We were close.
I followed her in, through the front rooms, down the hall to the great room that made up the back half of the first floor. The kitchen filled one side, facing an open family room with a stone fireplace. Exposed beams ran the length of the room, tying the spaces together.
In the back, a wall of windows looked out to the small square of green grass between the house and the detached garage with studio above.
I'd put my office out there, saving the bedrooms in the house for me and Annabelle, guests, and someday kids. Weird how the thought of kids seemed so right. As right as the thought of sharing the house with Annabelle.
I refused to consider the possibility that I wouldn't win her over. I could be patient. I would be patient. Whatever she needed, I'd do it.
I left Charlie with a check for the final phase of the work, and her promise that I could move in within a week. I thought about Vivi. When we'd moved into Winters House all those weeks ago, she'd planned to move back out when the house was done. To keep living with me instead of Aiden.
He'd hate that, but he wouldn't stop her. Aiden knew how to be patient, too.
Vivi could live with me as long as she liked. My sister would always have a place with me. Always. We'd both been turned out by our own family, kicked to the curb when we'd displeased them one time too many.
We stuck together, and I would always look out for her just like she would always look out for me. I still wasn't going to let her move into this house. She belonged in Winters House with Aiden.
I knew it, he knew it, and she knew it. I didn't think she'd argue too much.
When I finally talked to her about it, she'd grinned at me with pink cheeks and agreed she didn't want to move again. Aiden was relieved, and everyone was happy, except for me.
I devoted myself fully to my pursuit of Annabelle. It was Vivi who gave me the idea.
When I'd cornered her in the kitchen of my new place and confronted her about staying with Aiden, she'd agreed, then countered by demanding to know my plan to win Annabelle.
"Plan?" I'd asked. "I don't have a plan, exactly. I was just going to keep showing up. Keep helping her close the café. Just be there, like I was before, until I wear her down and she decides to forgive me."
Vivi rolled her eyes at me as only a little sister can. "That's it? Just show up?"
"Hey, showing up is half the battle."
"No, I don't think that's it. It's knowing is half the battle. Didn't we watch cartoons together for most of a decade?"
"Whatever," I said, not interested in a critique of my courting methods from my sister.
"Not whatever," she said, clearly disgusted with me. "You need to do more than show up. She cares about you. She wants to trust you."
"So? Tell me what to do then, oh wise one.
I don't think I could pull off your corporate espionage approach.
I'm not getting a job in her café. First of all, because she already knows what I look like, and second of all, because that was pretty much the dumbest plan ever. You're lucky you didn't get arrested."
"Worked, didn't it?"
"Um, not exactly. Or did you forget the part where we didn't get the company back and you got fired?"
Vivi shrugged a shoulder and grinned up at me. "Whatever," she said, mimicking me. "Do you remember when we were kids and you used to torture me by leaving gross surprises in secret places? Like dead bugs under my pillow or a frog in my ballet shoes?"
I busted out laughing. I'd mostly forgotten that.
Vivi had hated gross stuff and her squeals of indignation when she found my presents had been well worth any punishment I earned.
"You want me to leave her dead bugs?" I asked.
"No, you idiot. Not dead bugs. Same concept, but maybe try flowers and chocolate instead of insects and amphibians."
Vivi could be a pain in my ass, but she was a smart one.
So began my campaign to win Annabelle.
I left her flowers at the back door where her employees would find them on their way in and deliver them to her first thing.
I showed up at seven every night, worked on my laptop until she closed, and helped her clean the place up, over her objections.
I didn't push for more.
I didn't ask her out.
At first, I didn't even try to kiss her.
I did leave her gifts in places I knew only she would look.
In a pile of papers on her desk.
By the stairs up to her studio.
Tucked into the pocket of the apron she always wore.
Little things. Nothing extravagant, but gifts that showed her I'd been listening. That I knew her.
The flowers were red tulips, her favorite because the color and shape reminded her of the teacups her mom had when she was a little girl.
Earrings in citrine and amethyst, her two favorite semiprecious stones.
Chocolate truffles from the ridiculously expensive confectioner's shop in Buckhead she loved. She’d confessed weeks ago that they were a favorite indulgence, but she could never justify buying them, considering the expense for tiny bits of chocolate when she was a baker and spent her days to her ears in chocolate.
An audiobook she said she wanted to listen to, so she could pop on her headphones when she closed.
In choosing every gift I realized how well I'd come to know Annabelle. And how much I understood her.
The night I left her the earrings, but before she'd found them, I stopped before she ushered me out the door and turned, pulling her into my arms.
I held her loosely, giving her plenty of time to push me away. She stood still, staring up at me, eyes wide and dazed like a deer caught in headlights.
"I'm going to kiss you now," I said.
Her eyes dropped to my lips, pupils dilating. My cock hardened instantly, pressing uncomfortably against the thick fabric of my jeans. Fuck, a look from her and I was ready. I was turned inside out, so desperate for her I could barely stand it, and yet willing to wait as long as it took.
Her lips parted, the tip of her tongue tracing the edge of her teeth, and I lowered my head, waiting, hoping she wouldn't push me away.
She didn't. I took her mouth with mine, my tongue stroking hers. Claiming. Savoring. Just when she'd melted into me, boneless and pliant, I broke the kiss and stepped back, gritting my teeth at the effort of letting her go.
She blinked up at me, warm brown eyes wide and confused. She parted her lips to speak and I pressed my index finger against them, silencing her.
"Good night, Annabelle. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight."
I dropped a kiss on the curve of her cheek and walked away, fighting the urge to go back, to pick her up and brace her against the wall, to strip off her clothes and fill her with me.
To give us both what we wanted.