Chapter 7
Tonight, I have another ‘non-date’ planned.
Lexie’s term, not mine, and I hate it. But it’s time with her, so I deal.
We’re coming up on three weeks, the halfway point in her stay.
Dice thinks my pursuit is like trying to catch stardust in a bottle.
He doesn’t understand how deep our connection goes or that it’s already too late for me to stop.
When the day is over, and I’ve locked up the café for the evening, it’s dark and quiet.
The stillness heightens the hum of excitement as I prepare for her arrival.
She’s meeting me here. I flip off the lights, save for the ones in the bakery case, and head to the backroom to grab the safety gear for our outing.
I pull on my parka and beanie, returning to the front.
My breath catches in my throat. There she is, peering through the glass, her figure silhouetted by the glow of the streetlights.
I open the door, and the crisp night air bites at my skin.
Lexie is huddled in her down coat, with a camera around her neck and hands tucked in her pockets.
She smiles at me from beneath her fur-trimmed hood, warming me like sunshine. I lock up, and we head out.
Walking toward the lake, I decide to go for it; the worst she can say is no. “Sophia’s birthday is on Sunday. We’re having dinner at Val and Eva’s. Why don’t you come? You can meet Dice.”
“I couldn’t possibly impose.”
“You wouldn’t be. Sophia suggested it.”
“That’s kind of her, but why?”
“Well, for starters, she likes you. But you got extra points for talking some sense into me about her advertising dreams.”
“I didn’t do much,” Lexie says. “You deserve full credit.”
“Trust me, I’ve been pretty intense. But that aside, I really want you to come. It’s a casual thing, and you’ll be welcomed with open arms.”
“Only if you’re sure.”
“I am. One thousand percent,” I say.
“In that case, yes. Thank you.”
She said yes! But I keep my cool. “I’ll send you the details,” I say, holding her elbow and leading us down the snowy bank beneath the dock where I store my rowboat. When we reach it, she visibly recoils.
“There’s no way I’m getting into that.”
“It’s perfectly safe.”
Her hand slips into her pocket, as I’ve seen several times before. This time, I ask, “What’s in your pocket?’
“Oh.” She blinks as if I’d caught her by surprise.
“Didn’t mean to pry or make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay. I don’t always realize I’m doing it.” She withdraws an egg-shaped silicone ball and squeezes it in her fist. “It soothes or calms me at certain times—” she pauses, her eyes on me—“like when I’m nervous. And sometimes, it’s just a habit.”
“Can I try it?”
That seems to surprise her, but she hands the ball to me.
It’s squishy, and the texture reminds me of the Playdough Sophia used to like as a kid.
I squeeze it several times, understanding why she finds it calming.
“I never thought of using a stress ball. I crack my knuckles when I’m nervous, usually before a performance. ”
“Really?” she says, taking back the ball and stuffing it in her pocket. “You don’t strike me as the nervous type.”
“I think everyone gets nervous about something, and we find whatever helps us cope.”
Lexie stares at me, shaking her head slightly. “You have a way of making people feel better. It’s what I first noticed about you.”
“It wasn’t my irresistible charm?”
“That goes without saying.”
“So, what do you think about getting in this boat?”
“I’m terrified we’ll capsize, and I’ll either drown or die of hypothermia.”
“Wow, Blue.”
“That’s where my brain goes.”
I take her shoulders. “This boat is sturdy, the water is calm, and I know what I’m doing. We will not capsize, I promise you that, and I never break a promise.”
“Never?” she repeats, wanting extra reassurance.
“Never,” I confirm. “But I won’t pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do. We can change course.”
“No.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I . . . I can do this.”
“Course you can. Who’s the fuck it queen?”
“Who?” she deadpans.
“You are.” I grin, giving her arm a supportive squeeze.
After securing her life vest and fastening up mine, Lexie grips my hand and tentatively climbs into the dinghy.
When she’s seated, I get in on the other side and grab the paddles, steering us into the water.
Slow, icy waves lap against the boat, giving it a gentle rock that must feel like a tsunami, given her wide-eyed horror and death grip on the wooden seat.
I admire her bravery and try distracting her with a game.
“Don’t think. Just say the first thing that comes into your head. Favorite food?”
“Huh? Oh, um . . . an éclair.”
“That’s dessert.”
“The best of the food groups. To make the cut, though, it must have the perfect ratio of whipped cream, chocolate, and pastry.”
“That’s specific.”
“I’m serious about my éclairs.” She manages a small smile while still white-knuckling the bench. “You?”
“Lobster rolls, hands down.”
“I love a good lobster roll.”
“This one has a Latin twist with chipotle mayo and pickled jalapenos. Can you handle some heat, Blue?”
“I can. I like spicy.”
“Good to know.” But my mind isn’t on the lobster roll; it’s on Lexie and me sweating up the sheets. Damn! “Favorite movie?” I ask, getting my mind back in the boat.
“Eat Pray Love.”
“Why that one?”
“I guess because it’s about a woman who’s been living the life everyone expects of her and one day, she just . . . walks away. Travels, eats, and tries to find herself again. That resonates with me. Your turn,” she says before I can comment.
“Black Panther.”
“Hm.” She cocks her head. “Marvel comic books and superheroes. Wanna know what that tells me about you?”
“By all means.”
“One, that you’re a kid at heart—snow angels being a case in point. And two, you’re drawn to good versus evil—the fight for justice. Am I right?”
“You are.” I work to keep the strain out of my voice as her astute observation triggers that darkness in me.
“You okay?” Lexie studies my expression with a concerned look.
“Yeah, of course.” I put on a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be? Great view and a beautiful boating companion.”
“You are smooth.” She smiles back, and I notice she’s no longer gripping her seat.
Instead, she seems to take in the vastness of the water as the lights from the pier grow more distant.
The moon hangs like a giant pearl, and the stars are diamonds reflected in shimmering waves of midnight blue.
“It’s stunning out here,” she says in awe.
“A different vantage point from the shore.”
Her words have me shoving the unrequited thirst for justice back into that dark corner of my mind.
I stop rowing and let the boat drift. I just want to be here soaking in this moment with Lexie.
Still and quiet. Silence is underrated. Most people rush to fill the space.
But it feels comfortable with her. It feels right.
After a while, when she gains confidence, she lifts her camera. “It’s like being in the middle of a beautiful piece of artwork.” Her voice is reverent, her hands moving fluidly, adjusting her camera for the right angle.
Without interrupting, I watch her completely absorbed in her task. The joy and play of emotion on her face tug at my heart. When she lowers the camera, her eyes sparkle with excitement.
“I can’t wait to get these developed.”
“I can’t wait either.”
“Why?” She glances across at me. “You can see this view any time.”
“Not in the same way you do,” I explain. “Through your photos, I see more than just the image—I see how you felt when you captured it. That’s a powerful thing, Blue. You have a real gift.”
“That’s such a lovely compliment,” she says with modesty. “Thank you.”
“I mean it. Don’t ever doubt your talent. You should share your photos online.”
“Stop it.” She brushes me off. “I can’t even imagine that.”
“That’s fear talking.”
“And a healthy dose of reality. I still have so much to learn.”
“Artists don’t stop learning or honing their craft. But they still put their work out there.”
“I’m not an artist.”
“You are. You just don’t realize it yet.”
“It’s nice to have my own personal fan club of one. But I think you’re overstating.”
And I think she’s underestimating herself. “That’s how I started, by sharing my music on social media. It’s a great way to build a fan base and test response. I’ve sold several songs to indie artists. Had to hire an agent to field inquiries. I never expected that.”
“You’re amazing, Chaz.”
“So are you, Lex. Try it; you’ll see that I’m right. People are going to love your work.”
“You’re a great hype man.”
“I believe in you.”
“That means a lot. I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Sure.” I let it go for now and start rowing back as the temperature dips toward freezing. “How about we warm up at the café with an after-hours special?”
“Ah, the Kahlúa,” she recalls.
“That’s the one.” I send her a wink that I know, even though I can’t see it in the dark, makes her blush.
We return to the beach, and I secure my boat and life vests.
“Thanks for helping me face my fears,” she says.
“That was all you.” Then, having some fun with her, I scoop up a handful of snow, my grin taunting as I pack it between my gloved hands. “Ever had a snowball fight?”
“Chaz!” she shrieks, trying to dodge the icy projectile. It hits her with a soft splat on the arm.
“All right,” she says, giving me her camera to put in my bag, and warns, “It’s on now.”
“Give it your best, Blue.”
And she does, surprising me with her competitive spirit and damn good aim.
We run around like kids, laughing as we duck behind benches and hurl snowballs at each other. Lexie is carefree, and I totally dig this side of her—breathless, gorgeous, and covered in snow. We call a truce after she lands a final shot to my shoulder and make a mad dash to the café.
Inside, I flick on the lights, and we stomp off our boots.
“This feels so much better,” she says of the warm interior, shrugging out of her coat.
Whatever I was going to say flees from my mind. She stands there in a sage-green turtleneck tucked into fitted jeans with a thick black belt riding on her hips. Her long legs seem to go on forever, and her stiff nipples make two distinct points against the snug fabric.
My throat tightens, and I deliberately move my gaze from those beckoning tips to the relative safety of her hair. It falls in mink waves, glinting beneath the Edison bulbs.
She rubs her hands together. “I could really use that drink.”
I could really use a taste of her, and just like that, my head takes a trip to fantasyland—Lexie’s shirt and bra already on the floor, her on the counter, my mouth sucking on those tight little nipples, teeth grazing the tips—fuck!
I can’t let my thoughts veer off and face her with a hard-on.
Moving behind the counter, I grab the Kahlúa, Baileys, and chocolate from the fridge, hoping that working with my hands will help me keep them off her.
I blend ganache, steamed milk, and a shot of decaf espresso in a serving cup.
“I’m excited to try this.” She smiles, pressing the curves of her ass against the counter, her nipples still peaked despite the warmth of the room. Killing me.
I whip the cream and liqueurs together until they’re silky smooth.
The designs can be tricky. They require precision, technique, and the foam to cooperate.
With her watching, I’ve got to nail this on the first try.
Holding the pitcher at a slight angle, I pour it slowly into the center of the drink, letting the foam rise to the surface.
As it does, I twist my wrist and turn the cup in my other hand, coaxing the pattern I’m after.
Lexie pushes off the counter to get a closer look; her scent tickling my senses isn’t helping with the hard-on situation at all.
“Where did you learn to do this?”
“YouTube videos and trial and error.” I set the pitcher and mug down, revealing the moon and stars I’ve created, the foam rippling like the lake.
“Wow!” Her eyes widen. “I can’t believe you made this.”
“I was inspired by our night.”
“You truly say the best things.” She places her palm on top of my hand. Her skin is soft, and her long and elegant fingers sport short, rounded nails. “Thank you for everything you do to make me feel special.”
Emotion and desire beat wildly in my chest. “You are special, Lex.”
Her lashes flutter, her throat working on a swallow. “So are you.”
I cup her flushed cheek. The boundary she’s drawn is like a fragile thread stretched taut between us. “Will you let me kiss you?”
“I . . . we shouldn’t.” Her breath quickens.
“Why?”
“Because once we cross that line, we won’t be able to go back to how it was.”
“You mean wanting each other and pretending we don’t?”
Her hand tightens on my wrist as if searching for her control. “Yes.”
“I’m not good at pretending.”
“Neither am I.” Her gaze flickers between desire and denial. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”
“Disappoint me, how?”
“By being bad at this. So maybe it’s better that we don’t.”
Some jackass must have fed her a bunch of bullshit. “Do you want to kiss me, Lex?”
“Yes, but—”
“No qualifiers. Do you want to kiss me?” I rub my thumb over her bottom lip, and she shivers. “
“Yes.”
“I want to kiss you too, and I promise you I won’t be disappointed.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“I can. I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.”
“I seriously doubt that—oh—”
I cradle her cheeks between my hands, feeling nervous myself. I’ve kissed my share of women over the years, but Lexie isn’t just any woman, and this just isn’t a kiss. It’s our first, and I want it to be right for her—perfect. She’s too important to give anything less.