Thirteen
THIRTEEN
VANESSA
“Do you mind if I take an extra ten minutes for lunch?” I glance toward Theresa as I flip the sign on the door to Open. “I want to shoot down to the store and check out a new phone.”
She raises her eyebrow, hand frozen mid-air amidst where she stocks the baked goods cabinet. “I thought you didn’t like technology.”
No. I don’t like the idea that he could find me via the Internet. But considering the envelope that showed up on my door, I’d say the point is moot now. “I don’t like shit that invades my privacy.”
“Yeah? Well, wait until you have one of those smartphone fuckers. Your privacy will be for sale, and you won’t have a spare minute to scratch your ass with all the apps demanding your attention.”
I chuckle, running my palms down my forearms as I head for the counter. “You sound cynical there, bud.”
“Maybe I am.” She smirks over the top of the cabinet. “What do you think about carrots?”
“Huh?” I grab a handful of sugar sachets and resume stuffing them in the table caddies.
“Muffins. Cake. Do you think they’d sell well?”
“I think it’s worth a try.”
The growing growl of a motorcycle has us both turn our heads toward the window.
“Look,” Theresa says. “They pay well, but I sure hope those troublemakers don’t intend on making this their new regular stop-in.”
“Why not?” I carry the stocked caddy to the closest table in a daze; my attention stuck out the window as the bike’s exhaust notes shake the panes.
“Honey. I know you were sheltered growing up, but you do know what a one percent club is, right?”
“Sure.” I set my hands on my hips, heart rate elevated while the guy backs his bike into a parking space.
The skull with a crooked crown glares at me, judging, promising hell.
My gaze travels upward when the rider reaches to remove his helmet. Brown and blonde tugs free, his hair a riot of chaos along his head where it hasn’t been shaved like the sides. Guess the name makes sense. My heart fails to beat, skipping ahead painfully to catch up as he slings his leg over the bike.
I’m half doubled-over, hand to my chest, when the asshole turns and pins me with a hard stare through the window.
I heard him leave this morning.
My alarm had barely finished screaming dissent when the roar of his bike shook the mirror on my wall. When I darted to the window and tore back the curtains, all that remained was a dust cloud slowly drifting toward my front garden.
I’d hoped I’d imagined the whole thing. That his visit was yet another nightmare courtesy of my rattled mind.
The journal missing from my nightstand was evidence enough.
But knowing he’d stayed nearby while I slept? It should have scared me. Freaked me out enough to have me packing my shit and ready to run. Yet as startled as I felt, I also recognized an emotion I hadn’t touched in a long fucking time: relief.
I’m past saving. The man broke into my house, stole my things, and stayed close by, watching. His behavior should alarm me .
Just as I should be, by the fact that he now walks toward the cafe.
“Ness?” Theresa sweeps out from behind the counter. “What’s happening?”
I realize I still stand bent forward, shoulders curled and hands on my knees as I struggle to catch my breath. Everything’s okay. It’s a public place. Like that’ll help me.
I laugh.
“Fuck’s sake,” Theresa mutters, slowing her roll. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m okay.”
The bell over the door rattles. The slap of his boots draws my eye upward to where he stops mere inches out of reach. His jeans are stained black along the seam. Weird thing to observe, Ness, but okay.
Theresa sighs. “All alone today?”
“For now.”
Motherfucker. I swallow the urge to hyperventilate again at the sound of his voice and force my fucking spine to straighten. “Morning.”
“Hi.” His gaze narrows a fraction, lips curling in a smirk. “I’ll have a black coffee, thanks.”
And I’ll have my journal back. I scowl at the pretty asshole and stride past Theresa to prepare his damn drink.
His gaze follows me even as Theresa talks to him, announcing her desire for the cafe to remain biker-free and somewhere the rest of the town feels safe to eat and drink.
Never mind the cafe—the people around here need to ensure they lock their goddamn doors at night.
“…as I’m sure you can understand.” Theresa tilts her head, studying Chaos. “Are you listening to me?”
“Hearing you,” he sasses. “But not listening.” He fixes her with an apathetic stare. “Your business is a place for the public to dine, right?” She nods. “Well.” He thumbs his chest. “I’m the public, and so I’ll dine here.”
“You’re a fucking pain in my ass. You know that?”
I freeze with his takeout cup under the spout, eyes widening.
“Wouldn’t wish to be anything else.” The asshole leans down and kisses her cheek.
What the hell? Theresa smiles, shaking her head as she wanders off to fluff with the table caddies, lining them up perfectly in the middle. I’m still wondering what the fuck I missed when Chaos sets his folded arms atop the food cabinet, leaning over to see what I’m doing.
“How’d you sleep?” His murmured question slides over me like silk.
I wet my lips and frown at the job at hand. Focus, Ness. “Fine, once you left me to it.”
“Who said I left you?”
I pop the lid on his cup and stare at him, one eyebrow raised.
He smirks again, and damn it all if I don’t want to melt to the floor to flap my hands and giggle like a little girl.
“Got my journal?”
His lips twist, drawing my eye to the slight dimple in his chin. “Not finished with it.”
“Neither am I.” I match his game and smirk, too.
His fucking eyes blaze, the blue one growing crisper as the brown one darkens. A beat passes before he jerks backward with a chuckle.
“You’re not harassing my staff, are you?” Theresa calls out as Graham and Penny from the antique store enter for their morning brew.
“Not at all.” Chaos eyes the newcomers like one would an unwanted doorknocker.
I grab my marker and quickly scrawl an initial on Chaos’s cup before handing it over. His fingers brush mine, gaze still fire as he drops his eyes to the small capital A enclosed in a circle inked on the lid. I rub the backs of my fingers where we touched, fucking glad I have a padded bra on today.
You’re fucking messed up if you want to actively seek trouble after the hell you went through. Messed up and apparently horny.
His amusement tickles my awareness when I shift focus to the elderly couple waiting at the counter. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Vanessa,” Penny chirps. “I’ll have my usual, but Graham is after a dash of milk in his coffee this morning.”
“Already had a black coffee before we left home,” he explains. “This one’s just for fun.”
I can’t help but smile at his playfulness. The older customers are by far my favorite. They’re much more approachable than the younger clientele, always with a story or a joke.
Chaos sips his coffee at the end of the counter, watching the exchange, before turning for the annex.
I shrug when Theresa looks my way questioningly as she passes through to the back room. What else is he going to do? Hold his takeout cup while riding his motorcycle? I guess he could take a walk elsewhere, but I get the feeling the coffee wasn’t the main reason for his stop here.
“Do you think we could have a couple of the biscuits warmed up to take with us?” Penny asks, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Sure.” I ring up their order. “Butter?”
“Of course.” Graham smiles again.
I finish the transaction and then retrieve two glazed mugs for the couple, stealing a peek into the annex as I do. My body tingles, although refreshingly not from anxiety. Chaos sits at the same table as they did the other day, a pen in his hand and head bent low over none other than my fucking journal.
I idly slide the cups where I need them and pack the grounds, stealing another glance in his direction when I retrieve the milk.
He chews on the end of the pen and then scribbles something in the margin before lifting his head and meeting my gaze.
I lift my chin, a small smile playing across my lips. What are you up to?
His gaze narrows, head dropping to study me from beneath a stern brow.
A thrill rushes through me, the man capable of making me feel fucking naked with a look alone. Skin on fucking fire, I turn back to Graham and Penny’s order and quickly get caught up in the growing stream of morning traffic as the regulars stop by on their way to work. The broody biker slips from my thoughts until I turn to set two lattes on top of the cabinet for collection and come face-to-face with perfection.
Chaos stands beside the swing door, thumbs hooked in his pockets. How long was he watching me? I notice for the first time the badge stitched to his chest: President. Huh.
I lift an eyebrow. Do y ou need something?
“Appreciate the coffee.” His gaze slides down my fit, slow and careful like a lover’s touch. I shiver, which seems to please him, considering he smirks, leaning forward to whisper, “You look better in just a T-shirt.”
“I’d look better in yours.” Where the fuck did that come from?
That padded cell is looking more and more likely by the minute.
Chaos’s eyebrows shoot up. “You think?” He shifts his arms to fold them over his chest, the lines of muscle in his forearms tempting enough to trace with my goddamn tongue.
Heart threatening to catapult itself out of my chest, I tip my head. “Pity you’ll never find out.”
How long has it been since I got laid? I mean, I masturbate. Also haven’t charged my vibrator in an age, but the fucking thing does the job fine enough without power. But since I had a real life dick? Months maybe? Surely. It can’t be more than a year. No way.
The troublemaker’s lips split in a breathtaking grin. “Don’t be so sure.” His attention darts across the room, marking Theresa’s location before Chaos’s hungry gaze shifts from my mouth to my eyes. “I’ll see you tonight, Vanessa .”