4. Chapter 4
Willow has been coming by Grind Time every morning and staying until I close up shop for a week and a half.
It’s wreaking havoc on my already-frayed mind, thanks to Woodcroft showing up and having to tell the sheriff who I really am.
The day after he showed up, she didn’t come in, and I honestly can’t tell you if I was more relieved or annoyed by that. Then, she showed up the next day and just kept plopping her sexy ass in the same chair right when we opened.
Now, it’s not just that she lights up the room, it’s the way her brown hair falls in her face when she’s concentrating and she blows it off with a puff of her breath. It’s the way she frantically types when she’s onto something—you can see the excitement in her movements. It’s the way her blue eyes zone out, not really focusing on anything, but it gives me a chance to study them from behind the counter. To see the flecks of gold that catch the light every so often.
Fuck. I need to get a grip.
My life consists of running the coffee shop and then working out until I can barely walk. It’s the only way I can get some sleep every night. Woodcroft showing up has brought the nightmares back, just when I was going weeks without one. The fact is, I can only look at Willow, nothing more. I’m in no place mentally to even entertain the idea of something more.
But damn, do I wish I could.
It’s not only her appearance either. Her brain is equally fascinating. When I found out she was an author, not too long after I moved to Bluebell Falls, I decided to check out some of her books. Now I own and have read them all. She’s incredibly gifted, and there are days I just want to pick her brain. To see how she comes up with her storylines and how she keeps her light when she writes such dark things.
I could use a little of that.
But it’s not in the cards for me. I came to terms with that a few years into my Marshal career. The realization that my job was extremely dangerous made me stop dating entirely, and I’ve never regretted my decision.
Until Willow.
I was able to keep my want pushed down because she rarely came in here. But the last week and a half? It’s hard to relegate her to anything other than charming.
Where the fuck is all this poetic nonsense coming from?
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I turn away from the woman currently taking over my thoughts.
I don’t know what changed in the last week and a half to prompt her to be here every single day, but my paranoid brain thinks it has something to do with Woodcroft’s visit. The timing is too fucking suspicious.
God, I thought I was past the hyper-paranoia. In the course of less than two weeks, my nightmares have resurfaced with a vengeance, and I’m obsessively looking at every single person I can get a visual on.
It’s fucking exhausting.
“You okay?” I hear Brittany ask.
“Great. You can head home now that the rush is over,” I say automatically.
“You know, I can just stay here until we close and you can take the afternoon off.” She’s offered more times than I can count, but I’ll never agree to it. What the fuck would I do anyway?
“I know. Thanks, Brittany. I’m good today, though.”
She holds eye contact for a second—possibly trying to change my decision by hypnosis; who’s to say—before shaking her head and undoing her apron.
“You’re stubborn as hell,” she mutters under her breath. I barely hold in the bark of laughter. She’s never outright called me on my shit, but maybe she’s finally warming up to me.
“See you tomorrow, Brittany,” I call to her as she walks to the front door.
Willow’s head pops up from her laptop when she hears me call out, and my attention is pulled back to her.
I hold up a mug, asking without words if she’d like another latte.
She nods then tucks her head back down behind the lid of her laptop, and I get started on her new latte. I’ve been working on the fancy shit at the end with the foam to make it pretty for her, but I still suck at that. My expertise lies in the food I serve here, not necessarily the coffee. But they didn’t have a coffee shop, so it felt like a natural progression for the town. It’s not like making basic coffee is difficult to learn, and Brittany has added some different seasonal shit that I’ve run with.
I don’t know. I’m probably overthinking the whole latte art shit because Willow fucks with my head. And my need to impress her just irritates me more.
Being the stubborn ass I am, I decide this one won’t have my sorry attempt at artistry. I also grab one of the homemade pop tarts she loves so much and take them over to her.
I place them on the table and silently back away.
It takes her twenty minutes to realize I dropped off sustenance for her and when she finally sees it, her entire face lights up like the North star. Heart pounding in my chest, I know I’m in trouble with her. When she makes eye contact with me before taking a bite of the pastry and then licking her lips? Well, I’m thinking about how that gorgeous mouth of hers could really do some damage—mainly, to my dick that’s trying to rip a hole in my jeans. Thank God for the counter covering the obscene tent I’m sporting. Can’t have the people of Bluebell Falls getting their hands on that kind of gossip.
I just need to get through the rest of the day, then I can wear my ass out and jerk off in the shower later.
The last two hours before I closed up shop were fucking hell. Willow’s little moans of pleasure while eating what I’ve baked and drinking the latte I made for her almost did me in. The good news is that my apartment is upstairs, so I can immediately strip out of my clothes to stroke my cock. I can’t even wait until after my workout, that’s how much I’m worked up from that woman.
Collapsing onto my bed as I grip my dick, I think about what she would look like with her hair all wild from my hands. Her cheeks flush with lust, not embarrassment this time. God, she looks good like that. My strokes get a little faster as I conjure up the image.I don’t even know where I would start with her if I got the chance. I know kissing her would be top of the list, though. Her rosy pink lips draw my eye every single time she talks, and I wonder what other parts of her body are that color.
That’s all it takes.
Pathetic.
Cum pools on my abs as I throw my head back with a sigh. I need to stop doing this. There’s nothing between us—there never can be anything between us—so there’s no use in daydreaming. Hell, she doesn’t even know who I am … not really.
And that thought is depressing as hell.
Climbing off my bed, I rinse off in a quick shower before putting on my trail clothes. The place my head is at makes me feel like a long-ass run on the trails in the national park that borders our town is the best course of action. Sam Houston National Park is one of the biggest perks of moving here. Getting lost in nature has saved my overly depressed and anxious brain more times than I count.
Walking out my front door, I lock up before heading east to the park. I know this is a small town and they’re supposed to be ultra-safe, but old habits die hard, and I’ve seen way too much fucked-up shit to ever chance it.
My mind starts to swirl between images of Willow over the past week and Woodcroft showing up. He left town the same day we spoke, and I was selfishly thankful for that. It was painful as hell to see him after I got over the initial panic. I left that life knowing I would never see my best friend again. Never go to a bar and shoot the shit to decompress after a fucked-up case. Never go to a barbecue at his house after we caught the shitbag we were after. I never really stopped to question my decision until he showed up in Bluebell Falls.
I walked away from a life I had worked my ass off for. Thirty-seven years of the only life I knew, given up because of one man. Shit, I can’t even call him a man; he’s a piece of demented shit that doesn’t deserve to see the light of day.
But I couldn’t catch him.
My only job was to catch the worst of the worst, and I was damn good at it … until Alfred Tennison. He’s made me question everything about myself. Everything I thought I was made for suddenly felt like a mountain too tall to climb. I was losing oxygen, unable to breathe, and I knew I needed a change to survive.
Can I even call life in Bluebell Falls surviving?
My pace picks up when I hit my favorite trail, the existential questions pounding in my head causing my anxiety to skyrocket.
I never used to be this way. I was clutch under pressure, never second-guessing my decisions, and always confident.
Now? In the last year, I haven’t gone longer than two weeks without a panic attack of varying degrees. It’s exhausting, and it makes me feel weak. I fucking hate it.
The challenging hill I’m climbing doesn’t even phase me. A perk of constantly being caught up in my head means I’m in the best physical shape of my life.
I check my watch and realize I’ve been hiking for just about two hours, and I’m on the final stretch that will send me back to town.
I wish this had cleared my head, but if anything, today’s given me too much time to think about everything in my life. I’m so lost in the never-ending doomsday that is my mind, I don’t realize there’s another person on the trail until they’re right next to me.
Another reason I quit. I’ve lost my edge.
“Hey, Oakley, how are you doing today?” Lennox’s voice pierces through my self-loathing, startling me. Although, it makes sense since he is a park ranger.
“Hey, man. It’s going.”
He matches my pace, sending my hackles up. I’m not really in the headspace for small talk, but it looks like I don’t have a choice at the moment.
“I’ve noticed you on this trail a lot, but if you ever want some new paths, let me know. There are a couple that are a real workout.” He smirks, sending a subtle challenge my way.
Fucker.
“A real workout,” I deadpan.
“Yeah, I mean, how do you think I look so good all the time?” He chuckles, gesturing to his flexing bicep. We’ve crossed paths a few times but never really talked before this.
I have no doubt he’s in great shape, but I also see how often he comes into Grind Time, eating his weight in pastries and paninis.
“Alright. I’ll bite. Next week? Name the day, and I’ll be there.”
“Hell yeah! I’ll stop by and let you know when my schedule calms down a little.”
“Sounds good, man. I’m going to head home. Gotta be up early to make all the pastries you demolish on a regular basis.”
“They’re good as hell. I’m not apologizing for keeping you in business.”
Laughter burst out of me unexpectedly. Who knew Lennox was funny as hell, but maybe immersing myself in the small-town life will help with all the insecurities that have slowly been demoralizing me. That was the goal in moving here. Might as well follow through on it.
“So, I’ll see you in the morning then?” I ask.
“Bright and early.” He claps a hand on my back before heading in the opposite direction.
Maybe I just need to put the Task Force fully behind me and embrace this life I was so keen on creating a year ago.