3. Close Encounters （and Lethal Muffins）
Ron
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Okay, I didn’t mean to laugh either, but this is just too damn funny.
I feel like a terrible person right now.
But how could I not laugh? I watched the whole thing unfold. I was walking down the sidewalk when she caught my eye through the window of the Pumpkin Spice Café. Hunched over her laptop, gorgeous, deep in some phone conversation, and I walked in without thinking twice.
God… she’s even more beautiful than I remembered. Her dark hair falls over her shoulders, broken up by those two stark white streaks framing her face, giving her a magnetic, mysterious vibe. And those full, pouty lips…
Should I be offended that a grown woman just threw herself under a table to avoid me?
Well, technically, yes.
Wounded pride. Rejected. Ignored.
“You didn’t scare me,” she declares. She pouts and crosses her arms over her chest, her elbows resting on her knees. I think she’s trying to glare at me, to instantly incinerate me on the spot, except her massive chocolate-brown eyes are so bright and magnetic that it just makes her irresistible.
“Ah, so you doing that whole screaming thing was because you weren’t scared?” I ask, unable to hold back a chuckle. Maybe Grant’s right. I’m a jackass.
I try to crouch down lower, resting one knee on the floor, but it takes a Herculean effort.
“What are you doing here?” she snaps, her voice vibrating with irritation and panic.
“Well, honestly, I’d rather be up there than down here…” I mutter, trying to shift my weight. “You know, it’s a little tough hunching down here. My legs are too long for this cramped space. I have no idea how you’re so comfortable.”
“Dammit, I didn’t mean under the table… I meant right here, here!” She tries to play tough, but I can clearly see the corners of her lips twitching into almost the ghost of a smile.
“Oh, here… Elm Hollow? I live here!” I reply cheerfully.
“What? Weren’t you a new-cowboy just passing through for the rodeo?”
“You’re never going to let that new cowboy bullshit go, are you?” I stare at her, tilting my head slightly. She keeps glaring at me, holed up in her little square of space. Shouldn’t she be happy to see me again? I sure am. I’m so fucking happy I found her again.
“And you came back home?” I ask hopefully, trying to soften my tone.
Selene freezes. Her arms tighten a little more across her chest, and one perfect eyebrow shoots up.
I wait. But seriously, couldn’t we have this conversation sitting in chairs like two normal people? My knees are begging for mercy at this point.
“What do you mean… you know I live here?” she whispers, her tone shifting. Her shoulders go rigid as she studies me even more intensely, searching my expression. “Do you know who I am?”
“Darlin’…” I spread my arms in an obvious gesture. “Is there anyone who doesn’t know Selene Dusk?”
Oops.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Not like that, anyway. Her expression goes from suspicious to furious in a nanosecond. She’s glaring at me even harder than before.
“And did you know that when…” she starts, her voice dropping dangerously low and sharp.
“Oh, so we’re not pretending it didn’t happen. Thank God!” I exclaim, genuinely relieved. I couldn’t stand the idea of her trying to erase our night together.
But the second the words leave my mouth, I realize that, once again, I’ve said the wrong thing. Her glare is about to burn me to a crisp.
My big mouth.
“Are you serious?” she hisses. She lets out a grunt of pure frustration and plants her hands on the floor to stand up.
Finally.
I push off and manage to stand up first. I straighten up over the table and immediately offer her a hand, reaching down to help her out of her hiding spot.
But of course, she tries to do it herself, ignoring my hand like it’s infected.
She tries to get up too fast—thud.
“Ow, motherf…” She smacks her head against the underside of the table. She mutters a string of curses that would make a sailor blush, rubs the back of her head, and finally gives up. With a huff, she slides her soft fingers into my rough palm.
I pull her up easily, and for a second, the proximity knocks the wind out of me. Her scent washes over me, instantly dragging me back to the best night of my life.
But the moment is shattered by an unmistakable sound: the click-clack of nails on the hardwood floor.
“Ollie, stay!” I yell.
My Labrador has just reached the end of the leash and is zeroing in on the muffin Selene dropped on the floor.
I lunge forward. “No, no, no, buddy, stop!” I snatch Ollie mid-air, a millimeter away from the pastry. He whines, squirming in my arms, tongue lolling out, eyes fixed on his prize.
“It has chocolate in it, you greedy little monster! You trying to kill yourself?” I scold him, pulling him back by his harness. I kick the muffin that rolled under the chair out of reach with the toe of my boot.
I straighten up, gripping the leash in one hand and running the other through the hair under my Stetson, a little out of breath. Selene is frozen in front of me, looking at me like I’m an alien.
“Selene, this is Ollie,” I say, pointing to the dog, who is now sitting and wagging his tail, thumping it against the table leg. “Ollie, this is Selene. The dark, grumpy writer type. You know… Ollie has a real soft spot for grumpy writers.”
Selene crosses her arms again. She’s desperately trying to keep up her grumpy, disillusioned author persona, but I can see her lower lip trembling. She bites the inside of her cheek. She’s fighting hard not to burst out laughing.
Suddenly, as if she just realized she almost caved, she snaps out of it. She clears her throat, regains her rigid, unbreakable posture, and turns toward the table.
“Okay, well… see you around,” she dismisses me, her voice trying to sound icy but coming out laced with panic.
She starts gathering her things with impressive, almost frantic speed.
I take a step forward, inadvertently—or maybe not so accidentally—blocking her escape route to the glass doors.
“What’s the rush?” I ask, flashing my most innocent, disarming smile. “How about a coffee? I’ll get you another muffin. Maybe you can tell me about your next book… I promise I’m a great listener.”
She can’t say no to a muffin. It had looked delicious.
She barely pauses. She clutches her bag to her side, shoots me one last look, a lethal mix of terror and pure stubbornness, and sidesteps me.
“I’m busy,” she says, leaving no room for debate.
She strides toward the exit, shoving the glass door open with her shoulder and sending the bell into a frantic ringing behind her, fleeing like the devil himself was on her heels.
Damn.
I stand there staring at the spot beyond the glass where she vanished, swallowed by the crisp autumn air of Main Street. Ollie lets out a pathetic little whine of disappointment as he leans against my knee, staring at the floor where the squashed muffin was.
“Easy, buddy, we haven’t lost her yet,” I murmur, scratching my dog’s soft ears, as a slow, knowing smile spreads across my lips.
Well… at least now I know she’s back home. And I know that Elm Hollow is way too small a town for her to ignore me forever.
The hunt is on, Selene Dusk.