Chapter 11
Pepper
After leaving Aaron at Bayou Park, the adrenaline hummed so loudly under my skin that I practically flew back to my Airbnb.
I scrubbed the trail sweat off in a scorching hot shower, but no amount of soap could wash away the lingering memory of his scent.
By noon, I pulled up to Speedo's to meet the girls for a much-needed lunch.
We snagged a table out on the shaded patio, the afternoon heat offset by a massive industrial fan.
The moment our food and signature drinks hit the table, the floodgates opened.
I couldn't keep it in for another second.
"Y'all... you will not believe the cosmic joke the universe is playing on me," I started, leaning across the table and lowering my voice.
"What happened?" Stormy asked, instantly alert, her fork hovering mid-air.
I took a deep, shaky breath, the sheer weight of it finally crashing down.
"Monday morning. I strutted into Jolt Headquarters ready to dominate a room full of predictable suits. The door swings open... and in walks Aaron Fields."
Nia choked on her water, and Mars's jaw dropped so fast she almost lost her taco.
"Shut up!" Mars gasped, leaning in. "Aaron is the Creative Director?!"
"Yes!" I groaned, burying my face in my hands for a brief second before looking back at them, my heart racing just recounting it. "And y'all, it is eating me alive. I had to act like an icy professional while my knees were shaking."
"Oh, it gets worse," I continued, fanning my face as Nia and Stormy watched with wide, entertained eyes.
"This morning, we met at Bayou Park to test the Jolt Noir fabric samples.
I maliciously hand-picked the shortest, tightest teal workout shorts the distribution center had.
I thought I was prepared. I was not. He stepped out of the park bathroom shirtless, y'all.
Chiseled abs. Powerful, thick thighs. A drop of sweat trickled down his top lip after we raced, and I swear to you, I wanted nothing more than to step up and lick it right off his skin. "
The girls erupted into a chorus of squeals and dramatic fan-girling, their laughter echoing across the outdoor patio.
"I knew it!" Nia laughed, shaking her head. "I saw the way he was looking at you at the lounge. The man is far gone."
"He is," I sighed, picking up my drink and swirling the straw.
"But he's also a total gentleman. He has this rigid rule book in his head.
I can tell he's the type who won't cross a professional boundary while we're contracted together for the next two months.
He wants to do everything strictly by the book. "
Mars's expression softened, her playful grin shifting into something a bit more gentle.
"Aaron can definitely seem a bit restrictive and overly structured at first, Pep," she said softly, resting her elbows on the table.
"But you have to understand where he comes from.
He didn't have anything handed to him; he had to fight tooth and nail for every single spot and contract he's ever gotten.
He built his agency from the ground up after taking a massive risk leaving a safe job.
That discipline is how he protects his craft. "
A sudden wave of quiet sadness hit my chest hearing that.
I stared down at the condensation pooling around the base of my glass.
I didn't want to pry or ask about his private business. I figured if he wanted me to know the heavy details of his past, he would tell me when the time was right.
But it made me respect him so much more.
Right as the silence settled over our little circle, a sharp chirp cut through the air.
My phone lit up on the table.
Aaron.
Sore from almost getting your butt whooped today?
A massive, uncontrollable smile split across my face, and a soft giggle bubbled out of my throat before I could catch it.
I grabbed the phone, my fingers flying across the screen as I typed back:
Key word: ALMOST.
Nia leaned back in her chair, a smug, knowing look plastered across her face as she observed my reaction.
"Look at you," Nia teased, nudging my foot under the table.
"Shut up," I blushed, though I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.
"Honestly, enjoy it," Nia said softly, her eyes turning sentimental. "I still feel that exact same way whenever Cal texts me. It doesn't fade."
Stormy let out a long, dramatic sigh, taking a slow sip of her chilled drink.
"Ugh. I seriously wish my chaotic schedule allowed for dating. As many weddings as I plan for a living, you would think I'd be deeply in love by now. Instead, I'm just buried under seating charts and tulle."
"Oh, honey, look how love found the rest of us when we least expected it," Mars said happily, reaching across the table to squeeze Stormy's hand. "It'll come for you, exactly when it's supposed to."
"Yeah," Nia assured her, gently rubbing Stormy's shoulder. "Plus, you're such a boss babe right now. Enjoy this freedom while you have it, because when you're in a real relationship, you're actively sharing yourself with someone else."
Nia paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face as she glanced down at her lap.
"I mean, look at me. I've had to make so many major adjustments to my life and routine since moving into Cal's mansion."
I was listening to them—I really was—and my heart swelled at the beautiful lives my girls were building.
But as the conversation drifted into the comfortable rhythm of old-school gossip, my eyes kept darting back to the screen in my palm.
I must say you are fast given you're what, 5'3.
Lol 5'4, I fired back instantly, hyper-focused on the rhythmic dance of our text thread.
We chatted until the shadows began to stretch across the concrete and the check arrived.
I hugged my girls tightly, promising to keep them posted on developments before heading back to the house.
By Thursday evening, the excitement in my veins was near electric.
Before even touching my closet, I looked up the aesthetic for Leo's on 3rd.
The images showed a space that was chill, deeply artistic, and perfectly fitting my vibe.
Knowing the setting, I chose an outfit that felt effortless but devastatingly effective.
I pulled on a beige, textured-knit tube top and a matching maxi skirt that clung dangerously to my curves.
I had hips and legs for days, and my small B-cup breasts allowed me to easily go braless under the fabric, leaving my shoulders and back bare.
I lightly dusted an iridescent shimmer over my collarbones and arms, accentuating my golden Texas tan.
To anchor the look, I stacked on my signature silver rings, layered clinking bangles up my wrists, tossed on some chunky gold hoops, and left my red hair tamed in a soft frame of loose curls.
I grabbed a mini boho clutch, checked my reflection one last time, and headed out.
The drive downtown was pure therapy.
I rolled the windows down just enough to let the warm evening air swirl through the car, singing to the pop song blasting on the radio as the sun began to dip below the Houston skyline.
When I pulled up to Leo's, the street was relatively empty.
I walked through the heavy front doors, a little bell chiming overhead, and the atmosphere enveloped me instantly.
The place was a total hipster vibe, and I loved it.
Soft, indie-soul music flowed throughout the dimly lit space.
To my left, a wide-open wooden bar stood ready, serving both artisan espresso and top-shelf alcohol.
To my right, a crate of vintage vinyl records sat for sale by the door.
Towering bookshelves lined the brick walls, and a stunning metal spiral staircase led up to a second-floor loft filled with hidden book nooks and mismatched tables.
It was exactly the kind of hole-in-the-wall place I used to ditch high school to hang out at when I was a teenager.
Somewhere along the line of chasing an upscale fashion lifestyle, I had lost my place in this raw environment.
Stepping back into it felt beautifully amazing—a true breath of fresh air.
I scanned the room, and my eyes locked onto the back of the lounge.
Sitting at a secluded table tucked between a bookshelf and a large glass window overlooking the twilight streets was Aaron.
He was already there, looking intensely focused as he stared down at his digital tablet. Even from across the room, sitting entirely still, his massive frame and sharp jawline dominated the corner.
My heart did a familiar, dangerous little flip.
I smoothed down the front of my knit skirt, took a deep breath that smelled of roasted coffee beans and old paper, and glided across the floor toward him.
As I approached, Aaron’s eyes tracked my movement.
His mouth gaped open for a fraction of a second, his dark gaze widening as he took in the beige knit top and the way the skirt hugged my curves.
He recovered with impressive speed, masking his shock as he stood to his full height and pulled out my chair.
"Thank you," I murmured, sliding into the seat and placing my camera bag and iPad on the empty chair beside me.
I never went anywhere without my camera; it had to tag along to a place like this.
"How are you?" he asked softly as he sat back down, his voice rich and grounding in the cozy space.
"I feel good," I said, a genuine smile breaking across my face.
I leaned back, scanning the brick walls and towering bookshelves.
"This is such a nice place. I wish it had been around when I lived in Houston."
"Would you ever consider moving back?"
The question caught me off guard.
"Hmm, I don't know," I said, tilting my head as I gave it real thought. "I haven't considered it."
Truth be told, I loved living out of the country and chasing the international fashion circuits, but being back with my girls, and now sitting across from him, made me suddenly appreciate home a lot more.
Returning permanently didn't feel so impossible anymore.
"Oh," was all Aaron said, a small nod acknowledging my answer.
"I wanted to order you a drink before you got here, but I didn't know what you were in the mood for."
Right on cue, he flagged down a passing waitress with an effortless raise of his hand.
He was naturally assertive, which quieted the nervous energy that had weighed on me all day.
He possessed an easy approach to everything, and I wasn't even sure if he was aware of the power he held.
"Hi, you two! What can I get you started with tonight?" the waitress chirped, stepping up with a friendly smile.
"I'll have an espresso martini, please," I said.
"And I'll have a dirty coffee," Aaron told her.
"Sounds good, be right up!" she said, collecting the menus and walking off toward the open bar.
I raised an eyebrow, a playful smile spreading across my lips.
"A dirty coffee, huh? That sounds promising."
He laughed, a low rumble that harmonized with the indie-soul music playing in the background.
"It's a bit dangerous. It's premium drip coffee with a double shot of espresso and a heavy pour of Kahlúa and bourbon. You can't taste the alcohol, which makes you want another one."
"Uh oh," I said, letting out a soft chuckle. "I should have ordered that instead."
"You can have mine," Aaron said instantly, his expression serious. "Or I'll just order you one."
He started to shift in his chair, about to flag the waitress down again, and the protective, eager gesture made me smile.
He was being sweet.
"No, no, I'm just kidding," I laughed, reaching out to gently touch the edge of his tablet to stop him. "I'll keep the drink I have. But thank you."
I leaned in a fraction of an inch, my voice dropping into a flirty, smoky register.
"I'll just take a sip of yours."
Aaron blushed, looking amused and a little flustered as he settled back into his seat.
"You can do that, too," he murmured, his eyes meeting mine.
My heart swelled at how much I enjoyed being near him.
The night continued without a single mention of work, and I didn't mind at all.