5. LUNA
Luna
E ight hours later, I’m stepping off the tail end of my transport. The second plane of the day landed in a small airport a few streets over from my hometown, the familiar smell of fresh pie and cinnamon rolls hitting my nose. Spring Haven had a few good memories, most notably the fresh bakery a few streets over from my childhood home. Just by the aroma, I assume it’s still there which will be my second stop, right after I stop by the bed and breakfast to get the keys to my room.
Grabbing the rental Max reserved for me, I make my way down the small streets, parking the car just outside of the small bed and breakfast. All of the memories come rushing back at me and I wince, trying to stuff them back down. Even the streets are the same, a little more cracked and worn from years of use, but the same nonetheless. The buildings along the strip through the middle of Spring Haven haven’t changed much, either. However, it’s easy to see the wear and tear that years of love and weather have done to this quiet town. Except for a few businesses I don’t recognize, everything is the same.
It’s like stepping back into a piece of history.
I’m weary about exploring a place I vowed never to come back to but it’s just after 6 pm and with nothing else to do than rot in my room, I decide to give it a try. My conversation with the landlord is short. I vaguely remember her but she doesn’t recognize me which I take as a blessing when she offers me my room key.
The room is nice enough and the sheets remind me of someone’s grandmother’s house with all of the frilly decorations. The light blues and soft yellows help me relax before I take a shower and run downstairs for a cup of coffee.
My bag is firmly attached to my back, just in case I have to pick up at a moment’s notice. It’s an odd sight but I’ve gotten used to pushing past social norms. I look like I’m on the run half the time and all the other times, I just look uncomfortable. As long as my oddities keeps me safe, I don’t really care.
The coffee waiting for me downstairs is better than nothing even though it smells stale. I keep my head down, eyes peeled for anyone who looks out of place as I shuffle toward the machine. Granted, the only one who doesn’t fit into this small town is me.
“Yeah, here you go Ms. Elrod. Fresh out of the oven.”
A squeal sounds from the counter a few feet away from where I’m standing. “This is wonderful! To go with my coffee-”
The man grunts. “You know I brought you one of those too. No way am I going to let you drink the stuff your husband buys. He should know better!”
Ms. Elrod giggles, a hearty sound from the older woman. “And you know Eugene is trying to cut costs. But maybe I’ll just start slipping it into the machine.”
Their banter continues as I fill my cup and bring it to my lips, grimacing at the taste. It’s essentially piss water.
“I can find you better coffee…”
I twist to see a man staring at me, his wide amber eyes studying my lost expression. He’s absolutely gorgeous with unruly chocolate strands down the middle of his head accentuating the close-shaven sides and covered in more earrings than I can count. The honey voice he used with Ms. Elrod doesn’t match what I’m staring at. One of his arms is covered in a colorful sleeve, the other one completely bare and my desire to run my fingers across his skin is more than just inappropriate. None of that compares to the warm smile on his face as if he’s the safest place in the world.
He holds out a hand in offering and I stare at it, wondering what it would be like to slip my fingers into his palm. I expected to see calluses and cracked skin. Instead, his hands look soft and cared for, loved, just like every other part of him. As much as I want to be okay shaking his hand, I just… can’t.
“Luna,” I push out, wrapping my hands around my little paper cup.
He nods, sticking his hands behind his back to ease my discomfort. “Rome.” His eyes glitter as he gives me his name, his smile widening. “I own the café a few doors down and could make you a better cup than Eugene likes to put out.”
My gaze narrows at him, wondering if I should entertain his advances. It’s harmless right? He wants nothing from me. I used to live here and everyone was nosy but very nice for the most part. “I remember that café. Mr. Caddel used to work there,” I blurt out. Rome’s face contorts for a second and then he fixes it.
“That was my father. Come on. It looks like you just got in. I just made a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls and I’ve got coffee. You can tell me your story and I’ll call it payment.”
That sounds like a terrible but tempting idea. I’m tired and hungry. I’ve only been snacking on plane food for the past several hours. Rome also seems harmless. Mostly. “Yeah, sure.” I discard my piss water and follow him, head on a swivel as I try to make sure no one has followed me. How could they though? I picked up a new phone at the airport, Max hadn’t bought the tickets until this morning, and I haven’t talked to anyone I know in the past eight hours.
I’m pulled from my thoughts as I step into the small café, transported back to my ten-year-old self that ran in here for any of the bits that fell off the pastries in the case. Rome’s father had always produced a small plate of clippings but looking back I realize now that he specially made them for me.
“Why haven’t I seen you before?”
Rome lets out a deep sigh as if the question pains him. “My mother married him five years ago when I turned 25. He was a great man and left me this cute little place after he passed away shortly after. I couldn’t turn it down.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I got a father for five years, more than nothing. And he left behind a warm, inviting space.”
I wonder about his mother but it’s not my place and I don’t want him to turn the questions on me. He already knows I grew up here and that’s as much as I’m going to give him. “Who bakes all the pastries now?”
“I do.”
I frown, drinking in his playful demeanor which contrasts his tattoos and numerous piercings. They decorate his brow, nose, lips, and ears but instead of taking away from his attractiveness, the silver enhances it. I’m sure there’s a story behind all the ink and metal as most people in Spring Haven are kind of bland.
“I know what you’re thinking. I don’t look like a baker. I’m not. However, it’s something different than my last job. A lot less high stakes and it’s wonderful to see the smiles I put on people’s faces when they bite into one of my creations.” I must still look like I don’t believe him as he walks around the counter and pulls a plate off one of the drying racks. He reaches and grabs something by the oven, revealing a fresh cinnamon roll drizzled with an obscene amount of glaze. “Don’t trust my word. Try it. Tell me if I’m as good as my father.”
My father.
It’s words I don’t hear often and ones I wish I could say with love. The only words I have for my father are ‘get fucked’.
I stare at it for a few moments, my stomach rumbling for a taste of the gooey sweetness sitting before me. Unfortunately, I never had the money to eat at this place when I was younger and things haven’t changed much now.
“It’s on the house, Luna. Just eat it.”
It’s like he can read my mind and understand my uncertainty. I don’t like handouts but I also don’t want to pass up the opportunity to indulge a little. When I don’t move, he reaches for my plate and drags it toward him. Rome ignores my indecision as he sticks a fork in and tears off a piece before dangling it inches from my lips. Glaze begins to droop but his eyes are firmly planted on my face.
“Luna, just one bite.”
One look into his gorgeous amber irises and I can tell that I’ll break his heart if I don’t at least try it. Slowly, I part my lips, Rome’s face brightening as the fork slides into my mouth. Cinnamon and nutmeg explode in my mouth and a wanton moan tears from my throat, both of us freezing. Our eyes lock again and I’m not sure when my lids closed. When he withdraws the fork, glaze drips down my chin, Rome’s thumb brushing across my skin to clean me up.
Desire flares in the pit of my belly and for the first time in years I want something more than the quick romps of a club bathroom.
“You missed a spot,” I whisper, playfully, wondering if he’ll take the bait. There’s a little hesitation before the fork clatters to the counter and his hand slides around the back of my neck, dragging me to his lips. They’re a lot softer than I had imagined, his touch gentler than his aura suggests. For a few moments, we’re just tasting each other, cinnamon and sugar coating our tongues. Rome is so fucking gentle and I grip the edge of the counter, leaning into the kiss rather than away.
“I think I got it now,” he purrs as he runs his tongue across my bottom lip and then down over my chin, leaving a burning trail of need in its wake. Well, fuck. “Well? Was the Cinna roll better than my father’s?”
I clear my throat and sit back, shrugging. “Sure, I guess.” My thighs clamp together at the sudden heat growing between them, my heart beating a little too fast for my liking. Feelings are never part of my short encounters. How can they be? I never stay around long enough and I never give anyone a piece of me that can hurt me. The fact that I haven’t checked my surroundings in the last five minutes means that Rome is dangerous.
In all the best ways.
Not to be defeated, he’s suddenly standing beside me, twisting me toward him and taking my cheeks in his hands for another kiss. “Guess you need another taste.” There’s no hesitation when he meets my lips, one of his arms sliding around my waist to pull me flush against him. My thighs part to accommodate him, something thick growing against my inner thigh. As much as I want to indulge in something other than sugar, this is the worst possible idea.
I’ll be in Spring Haven for a few weeks before I disappear again and I don’t need the distraction from my work—especially when I’ll be dealing with Griffin. Or maybe… maybe it won’t be the worst thing.
“Woman, would you concentrate ?” Rome grumbles playfully against my lips as he tugs on my backpack. I scramble off the stool and clutch the straps a little tighter than necessary. No doubt he can see the fear in my eyes and feel the change in the air. Whatever supercharged horny shit that was going on a few seconds ago is gone. Unfortunately, my pussy hasn’t gotten the memo and she’s screaming like a bitch for some relief.
When was the last time I even had sex?
Rome takes this in stride as he has everything else in the past fifteen minutes. “Sweetheart, did I do something wrong?” He steps forward and then pauses, observing my reaction before closing the distance and pulling me into his chest. I can’t help but melt into his arms. All those one-night stands never offered a hug and this one feels just as fulfilling as that cinnamon roll. “Luna, I don’t know what brought you home or who put that look in your eyes but let me at least feed you, alright?”
The lingering pain in his expression is back but this time it’s for me as he rounds the counter and starts maneuvering dishes. It takes me a few moments to realize that he’s making actual food, my eyes widening at the gesture from a stranger. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll just—you said the cinnamon roll was free. I’ll take that and-”
The man whips his head toward me, frowning. “Luna, I get it. You don’t want a handout but my father taught me better than that.” Rome is ignoring our hot and heavy makeout session two seconds ago and is now offering me dinner? I don’t understand. “My father also used to tell me stories about this bright young girl who’d pop in, her gorgeous brown eyes full of life and excitement. He told me that if she ever came back everything was on the house.”
“Your father talked about me?” By the time Mr. Caddel had married into Rome’s family, I had been gone for at least a year or two. “Why?”
“You kept him sane. You gave him purpose. Did you not know?” Rome is slightly distracted as he works behind the counter, pulling things together before producing a cold-cut sandwich and a beer, a very different food option than the bakery usually provides. I slowly move closer, eyeing the food and then looking up at Rome, shaking my head. “Luna, you were his pride and joy. He opened this little café to bring a bit of sunshine into Spring Haven. It was pretty dreary here. No offense.”
I don’t want to agree with him but he’s right. My fondest memories revolve around certain shops, Mr. Caddel, and Griffin, but not the people who live here and most definitely not Spring Haven itself. Our high school and college were just across the town line which almost made it seem like our everyday lives were more than just the drab, monotonous bland routine. This cafe had been part of the happiness that I cherished.
Once again, Rome is standing next to me, a comforting hand squeezing my shoulder. “Eat. We can talk after. Maybe tell me what brought you back after all those years.” I open my mouth to argue but he just points at the plate. “Eat, Luna. I’ll still be here after.”