Chapter 5 Zoey
ZOEY
Tate’s standing at the end of the bar with the empty pitcher, staring at me.
I stalk her way, knowing where this is going to go before she opens her mouth. “Don’t say it,” I tell her as I grab the pitcher from the bar.
She smirks as her eyes track my moves. “So…Hunter.”
The growl that rumbles out of my throat is too low for her to hear over the noise in the bar. “He’s my neighbor.”
“A very hot neighbor,” she adds.
“Obviously,” I say as I slide the refilled pitcher back in her direction.
“He’s a solid guy.”
I glare at her, not wanting to have this conversation with her now or ever.
“I like him for you.”
“Well, thank goodness for that. I’m so happy I have the Tate stamp of approval to date a man I never planned on dating and didn’t know until a few days ago.”
Her face scrunches like she just ate something sour. “You’re a brat, Zo.”
“I know,” I say with a smile.
My entire family is so damn nosy. Sometimes it’s funny, but only when it’s not directed at me.
“What’s up?” Mason says as he slides in next to me, and his gaze moves to Tate and back to me. “This looks tense.”
“Hunter,” I tell him, tipping my chin in his direction and finding Hunter’s eyes on me.
Shit.
Mason’s gaze moves to the booth where the Inked crew always sits when they pop in for pizza and beer a few nights a week. “Ah. Nice dude. But why’s he sitting at your table, Tate?”
“He works at Inked,” Tate tells him.
Mason’s head jerks back. “No shit. Small world.”
“Small world, indeed,” I mutter under my breath.
“I think Zoey should date him,” Tate announces like she’s somehow in charge of my love life.
“Oh boy.” Mason leans back, ready to run because he knows better than to wade into these waters. “I’m out,” he says, lifting his hands in mock surrender as he leaves us alone.
“I’m on a break from men.”
“Yeah, so was I when I met Wylder,” she says. “But be careful, because you could miss something really great that’s right in front of you.”
“Got it, wise one. Why don’t you head back to your people?”
Her nose wrinkles. “You’re my people.”
“You have thirty minutes to finish before we close,” I tell her.
“Fine. We’ll talk about him another day.”
“No. We won’t,” I tell her. “You said what you needed to say, and it’s over.”
She lets out a loud hmpf before she grabs the pitcher and marches back to the table to join her employees.
“Fuck,” I mutter, throwing a drying towel over my shoulder to begin cleaning up.
I love my family. I really do, but I could go without them butting into my life for a while.
Between my sister and Tate, the pressure is heavy to date someone no one knows.
Just because he’s new to town and easy to look at, it doesn’t make him trustworthy or husband material.
They’re feral for him for absolutely no reason.
I ignore my cousin’s table for the next thirty minutes while Mason and I clean up as the last few customers slowly file out after we cut them off from ordering any more drinks.
Thankfully, the group from Inked left without much fanfare. Tate didn’t make a scene, and Hunter gave me a brief and fleeting smile as he exited.
“I think we’re good enough until tomorrow. The morning crew can finish,” Mason says.
Normally, I’d argue. I don’t like to leave anything unfinished, but it was so busy tonight that I am beyond tired. My feet throb with each step, and I can’t wait to kick off my shoes and crawl into my bed.
“You take the back, and I’ll take the front,” I tell him, even though it’s been our system for as long as I can remember when we work together. He exits out the back after making sure everything is off and locked, and I do the same with the front entrance.
“Catch ya tomorrow, cousin,” Mason tells me.
“Night,” I tell him before he disappears into the back, and I glance around the clean dining room before heading toward the door.
I pull on my jacket before I wind my scarf around my neck, preparing myself to be blasted by the winter air. I don’t like the heat of summer, but right now, I am over winter, and it has barely even begun.
When I step outside, I look to the right first. Something I always do. I’m aware of my surroundings as much as I possibly can be in the dead of night.
When I turn my head to the left, Hunter is leaning against the building, foot flat on the brick, and staring down at his phone.
“Hey,” he says without looking my way as he jams his cell into a pocket.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, locking the door to the bar as my belly does a weird flip.
“Thought I’d wait for you, and we could walk back together.”
“You could’ve been waiting here a long time,” I say, pushing on the door handle to make sure the bar is buttoned up tight and trying to control my breathing.
“I took a shot,” he says as I finally turn his way. “I’m still unsure of how to get around, and in the dark, it’s even harder. Figured since you know the area so well, it was safer to wait for you than to try to traverse the city alone.”
I eye him, wondering if he was worried about getting lost or if he had other reasons to wait for me. “It’s pretty much a straight shot to our building.”
“Pretty much doesn’t mean it is,” he says as we start down the sidewalk, heading toward home.
“You got me there.”
“It’s safer for both of us this way, though,” he adds, which isn’t entirely untrue, tucking his hands into his coat pockets.
“So, Inked,” I say as I pull on my gloves, wishing I had moved to a warmer climate years ago.
“I’ve known Tate for years.”
“And you came here because of her?”
“No,” he says and shivers. “I had to move for personal reasons, and I called her about a job first before I tried other places.”
I want to ask about the personal reasons because I’m just as nosy as the rest of my family, but I don’t. It’s not my place, and if he really wanted to tell me, he wouldn’t have given that basic answer.
“Have you been tattooing for long?”
“About fifteen years.”
I nearly trip over my own feet but somehow stay upright. “Wow, that’s a long time.”
He grips my elbow, trying to help steady me.
“Sorry. I’m a little clumsy.” I hope he doesn’t realize his answer nearly caused me to trip.
“I know I’m old,” he says, dropping his hand from my arm as he keeps pace next to me.
“You’re not old,” I say a little too quickly. “I was just surprised to hear you’ve been tattooing so long.”
“How old were you when I started? Like ten?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “I bet your work is amazing, though,” I say, trying to change the subject.
“Do you walk home alone every night?” he asks as we stride down the sidewalk at a fast clip.
“Usually.”
“Is that safe?”
“It’s only a few blocks, and yeah, it’s safe enough. I’ve never had any issues, and I was raised here, so I know most people. Plus, in the middle of winter, no one is out this late at night unless they have somewhere to be, like at home in the warmth or at work. Safest season there is in the city.”
He laughs. “That I believe. Is it always this cold?”
“Usually colder. You’ll get used to it,” I tell him as he shivers again. “You need a longer coat, and layering is important.”
“Why is it so much colder here?”
“Where are you from?” I ask.
“Ohio.”
“It’s the tall buildings and the lake. It’s like a wind tunnel.” My point is proven as we make it to the end of a building at a street corner where the wind is whipping so fast, the ends of my scarf become horizontal. “One more block to go,” I tell him.
We don’t wait for the signal to stalk across the crosswalk, picking up speed the closer we get to our building.
“Thanks,” I say as he opens the door for me, and we step into the warmth of our apartment lobby.
Now it’s my turn to shiver as the heat washes over me but doesn’t chase away the chill that’s deep in my bones this time of year.
“Damn. I hate this,” he says as we walk toward the elevator.
I haven’t stepped inside my apartment yet, but I’m already dreaming of my bed.
“Why did you move to Chicago? If I had a choice, I’d move somewhere warm,” I tell him as we step inside the elevator.
“I didn’t have a choice, but I’ve always loved Chicago, so it wasn’t a move I dreaded. I just wish I had come in summer.”
I stare at him, soaking in his tall frame even though everything is hidden under layers and layers of clothing. I never would’ve guessed the man is in his mid-thirties. He doesn’t look much older than me.
“The summer will be that much sweeter for you. There’s nothing better than the city when the sun is shining and the birds are chirping.”
“I hope you’re right.”
I give him a smile before the doors to the elevator slide open on our floor. “I appreciate the company,” I tell him as we walk down the hallway, heading to our units.
“It was my pleasure.”
“Standing outside in the cold waiting for me wasn’t pleasurable,” I remind him. “Next time, if there is one, you can just wait inside.”
“I’ll remember that,” he says as I stop in front of my door, and he does too.
My stomach flutters as we stare into each other’s eyes. Any other time in my life, I would’ve asked him inside or at least made a move to kiss him. He’s totally my type, but I’m not ready to get into anything, casual or otherwise. Not yet. I’m not sure I ever will be either.
Trust is a hard thing for me now. Mark made it damn near impossible after what he did to me.
“Sleep well,” I tell him while I fish out my keys and slide one into the lock as I glance in his direction.
“You too,” he says, his eyes roaming my face like he’s having the same thoughts I am.
There’s a crackle to the air and time seems to slow, but I do everything in my power to ignore the pull the universe seems to have on me toward him.
“Night,” I say, rushing into my apartment before I do something foolish that I know I’ll regret in the morning.
“Night,” he says back to me as I slowly close the door, feeling like I can breathe again once all connection between us is cut off.
“Shit,” I whisper to myself, hating that I am at this point in my life.
Why couldn’t I meet my hottie neighbor when I was still living my carefree and trusting lifestyle? The universe isn’t that kind.
As soon as I toe off my boots and hang up my coat on the hook next to the door, I check my phone. There is only one missed text, and it’s from Tate.
Tate: It’s time to come back to the land of the living, and Hunter is the one to do it with.