Chapter 14Olivia
Olivia
Lauren’s voice cuts through the rev of the tires. “What are you going to do?”
My elbow props on the windowsill of the passenger side, palm cradling the side of my head. I catch the dim glow of each streetlight we pass, my voice low when I answer, “I don’t know.”
“He kept your feather,” she assures. “Not only that, but he hangs it on his motorcycle. Maybe he didn’t want to meet you then, but it certainly seems like he’s thinking about you now.”
For the longest time, I thought that if I ever got the chance to meet the man who saved my life, I would jump in his arms and praise his wonderful deed. I’d endlessly thank him until our time was cut short, and when we said goodbye, we’d exchange contact information to remain pen pals of some sort.
But my mission has shifted. Because if there was the epitome of an anomaly in human form, Cade would be it.
His personality is as loveable as a wall, and he’s certainly not the staple for a male lead in a classic fairytale. When I consider how far off my imagination was when I drew up the hero in my mind, it almost … excites me.
He has a guard up. One thick, stone wall that I crave to break down. I want to push him. Surprise him the way he’s thrilled me to my core. I want to whirl into his life the way he’s spun my heart into overdrive. I want him to show me who he really is. Who I know he is.
I want to uncover the selfless man who risked his own life to shield mine. The man with a jagged edge who dons tattoos and sinfully good looks. The man who rides a Harley, smokes occasionally, and is crabby from time to time.
Yeah, just like that.
Prince Charming’s got nothing on him.
Both hands slip into my soft curls, my head angling back against the leather seat. “I don’t want to be a victim to him. I don’t want to be the girl who comes into his life to thank him for saving me. I want to mean something to him. Not because I’m the girl he rescued, but because of me .”
“Liv, I think this is just a classic case of falling in love with your white knight. You don’t even know him,” Lauren warns.
“Do I like him? Yes,” I admit. “I’ve felt him with me ever since that night. I swear it.”
I pivot my attention to her when she turns up her palm. “What are you going to do? Walk into his life and be like, ‘Hey, I’m head over heels in love with you for some reason unknown to you. Will you ride me off into the sunset?’”
“I’m not in love with him,” I challenge.
“ Yet .”
I roll my eyes, returning my attention forward. “Is it so terrible that I want to get to know the man who saved my life?”
“Of course not. I think anyone would, but you have that look in your eyes.”
My face scrunches in offense. “What look?” Then I’m peering over at her, adamantly pointing to my chest. “I don’t have a look.”
Lauren briefly tears her eyes from the road, one brow arching in retaliation. “Like you’d do anything for him.”
“Well ….” I start, only to sigh. “I think I owe him a couple favors, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes and no. I mean, sure, he deserves your gratitude and a few nice gestures, but I don’t want you to get so blinded that you feel indebted to him.
Or so infatuated that you become hopelessly devoted, regardless of how he treats you.
For all you know, he could be more of an asshole than he showed you today. ”
I stare blankly out the glass before delivering my rebuttal, because to be honest, I don’t even think I have a defense to make. Not a solid one at least.
My nerves bundle up inside me, the burden too heavy to carry on like this. As much as Lauren’s rational words strike a chord, they don’t strum it hard enough to rattle my hunger. It’s relief I desire. Liberation from the pressure that’s been brewing within me for five months.
“I feel connected to him,” I mutter flatly. “I can’t explain it, I just do. As my best friend, don’t make me psychoanalyze this. Please.”
Her focus remains on the street, a subdued smile forming on her lips as she reaches across the console. “I know, babe.”
I tuck my hand in hers, squeezing firmly. “Just promise me that you won’t make any judgements, okay?”
“Is that your way of telling me you’re not going to take my advice?”
“Is that a judgment?” I snap back.
“Okay,” she drawls on a smirk, her head bobbing once in defeat. “Even if I don’t necessarily agree with your decision, you know you have my support no matter what.”
“Love you,” I sing softly.
Lauren’s palm hugs mine tighter. “Love you too.”
I may have overdressed a bit for a casual brewery visit. More than that, I’m pretty sure they’ll be writing a Lifetime movie script based on my newfound hobby—mild stalking.
While I was sitting up in bed last night, I clicked around my laptop, snooping for any social media accounts linked to Cade. Of course, there were no traces of him on any of the major platforms. I shouldn’t have figured otherwise to begin with, considering how impersonal he seems.
Proceeding to type the name of his brewery in the Google search engine, I was directed to the company website. Opening time for a Sunday was listed at twelve o’clock, so where else would I be parked in my Toyota Rav4 right now?
The damn TV movie can write itself.
I wasn’t even sure he’d be here, but since he’s the owner and it’s a weekend, I assumed there had to be a decent chance. Or I was just really praying good karma was on my side for once.
The sun rays reflect off the white fenders of his motorcycle stationed in front of the brewery. My belly flips as my eyes trace the details of the bike, every feature embedding deeper into my memory.
I squint, spotting the white feather whisking in the gentle wind. Warmth spreads over my heart as it dances below the chrome handlebar, and my reserve breaks.
I pop my eyes to the rearview mirror, adjusting my curtain bangs under my cream-colored beanie. Now, I’d never consider myself the overly confident type when it comes to men, nor do I pursue them like this.
But this is different.
He broke the mold.
Conscious not to raise any red flags around him, I’ve waited until twelve-thirty to make my move. I figure a half hour grace period doesn’t categorize me as a stage-five stalker, but I also want to make sure there’s a scarce crowd.
I snatch the handle of my bag, tugging the car door lever in my opposite palm. When the door swings open, I step out on the blacktop, only to duck back inside to retrieve the cup of coffee I picked up from The Grind.
The heat of the drink radiates through the cardboard sleeve.
I prop the bottom of my thigh-high suede boot on the door frame, kicking it shut before switching the coffee to the hand that’s holding my bag.
I tug the hem of my white miniskirt, ensuring that the fitted, pink long-sleeve is neatly tucked inside.
Yeah, way overdressed.
When I walk through the brewery entrance, those same herbal and fruity notes from last night tickle my nose. My legs pause after a few steps, eyes traveling around to spot a couple at the far end of the bar and a few friends occupying a table in the middle of the floor.
My throat bobs, ears perking to every mumbled voice or clattering of glass. I guess Jake works night shifts since there’s a woman managing the bar, and honestly, the purple balayage looks really badass in her soft, black curls.
I wonder who her stylist is.
Olivia, focus.
I fold my bottom lip between my teeth, chest tightening as I search for a place to locate myself. Music softly drifts from the speakers, my window of opportunity narrowing if I don’t want to draw attention.
Just as I veer right, my pulse gallops when Cade slips through the entry point at the far side of the bar. One arm is looped around a box braced on his shoulder, his torso flexing beneath the black, zip-up hoodie he’s wearing.
When he exits the opposite end, he crouches in front of the refrigerator display case. He’s idled on his haunches, his dark jeans meshing to his sculpted thighs as he starts to pluck the cans of beer from the cardboard.
I ingest a breath, willing my legs to travel me to him and make this first move. Or maybe to prevent the hot coffee from cooling too much.
That’s probably a better reason.
I pad along the refined concrete, finally sliding beside him. “Hey,” I greet cheerfully.
His head jerks up, one hand wrapped around a beer in the fridge with the other nestling a can in the box. “He—”
My stomach somersaults when those crystal-blue eyes latch onto me, his eyelids quickly dipping in curiosity. “I thought I’d offer a truce.” I purse my lips through a smirk, holding the coffee out to him.
His stare drops to the cup snuggled in my palm, lips curling up at the corner before he returns his attention to the fridge. “How much peroxide is actually in there?” he asks, lifting his backward snapback to scrub a hand through his hair.
Damn, okay.
As if I needed another reason to be smitten with this man.
I shrug playfully. “Only about a teaspoon. Nothing that’ll kill you.”
“Spill coffee on anyone today?” He grins as he continues to stock the fridge.
I roll my eyes despite the bursting of my heart. “Zero people. I guess you just bring out the best in me.”
A breathy laugh escapes him when he dips his concentration to the box. “Lucky me.”
He gets it.
When he repeats the line I used on him last night, the warmth that was dancing along my skin transforms into a scorching heat.
But my giddiness only holds my hand through this for so long.
He’s not giving me much conversation to work with, and more importantly, he hasn’t batted a second glance my way.
Talk about a shot to the ego.
My chin lifts, eyes scanning the room before I say, “I hadn’t heard about your brewery until yesterday. How long have you had this?”
“A few months.”
Okay, then.
“Well, I digress from what I said last night,” I offer, my gaze landing back on him. “I’m not even a beer enthusiast, and I willingly bought a second drink.”
Cade shuts the fridge door, standing up with the empty package in hand before he turns to me. He lays his right palm on the frame of the display case, and my eyes instantly snap to the weathered metal wrapped around his middle finger.
I swallow thickly to suppress my racing pulse, terrified that I’ll give myself away. But when I yank my eyes back to him, his gaze is roaming up my legs and stomach.
A quick perusal. But a perusal, nonetheless.
We’re back in this.
“I already had my coffee for the day,” he states matter-of-factly.
Oh, Jesus, take the wheel.
“Well, I don’t know ….” I twist my free palm upward, extending the hot drink out to him in my other hand. “Give it to one of your employees or something. I’m sure they could use it after dealing with your attitude.”
Cade’s rugged jaw locks as he stares at the coffee cup for several seconds. His teeth barely sink into his bottom lip, but I catch it quickly when he reaches for the drink.
The cool metal of his ring grazes my skin, a jolt of electricity thrusting through my body as it does. “What do I owe you?” he asks.
My brows crease, a slanted smile flashing across my face. “Do you not know how kind gestures work?”
Short, wavy tendrils poke from the rim of his hat when he pins me with cautious eyes. “So, you went out of your way to go to The Grind? Then came here just to give me a peace offering?”
“I wouldn’t say I went out of my way ,” I emphasize before shrugging. “It’s like a five-minute trip.”
His icy-blue eyes narrow. “Tell me, do you typically barge in randomly on men you barely know?”
My face falls. “I would hardly call this barging in. I think you’re being a little dramatic, no?”
Cade casually pops a shoulder, the playfulness slowly receding from his stare. “I don’t think so.”
I chalk his remark up to his natural unfriendliness, the potential subtext spinning my nerves into overdrive.
“Anyway, I hope one of your employees likes the coffee.” I’m pointing my index finger at the cup in his hand, begging this change of subject to be successful.
“It’s black though. I assumed you liked your coffee to be the color of your soul,” I tease.
And for the first time, Cade shines a smile.
A genuine smile.
At me.
Oh, my heart.
“You’ll be disappointed to know I actually take it with oat milk.”
“Ergo,” I say, peeking down to dig in the pocket of my coat, “I brought backup. I know it’s not oat milk, but beggars can’t be choosers.” I place the two tiny cartons of sealed milk on top of the cap, my fingers heating with the weight of his stare.
“It’s kind of strange for me to take this coffee from you when I don’t even know your name. Don’t you think?”
“Nope.”
Cade’s eyes park on mine, and I decide to end on this high note.
Hammer the nail in the coffin as I retreat backward toward the glass double doors.
“But if you’re gonna give the coffee to someone else, take the sleeve off.
That’s for you.” I bite my lip, turning on my heel before I say or do something to weaken the leaps I just made with this beautiful man.
This man I’ve been yearning to meet for so, so long.