CHAPTER 3
SYNDAL
It has been a day. Sure, it’s been a good one, but I’m exhausted.
It takes a lot out of me to sell at my table all day.
Being personable and excited about literally everything doesn’t come easily to me.
I really have to get in a mindset of it not being about me or my embarrassment, it’s all about the customer and their experience with my treats.
I am my product in so many ways.
It’s a hard-won lesson which is why I’ve had to work up to doing as many events as I do. The first couple I did, I was a mess. I had no idea what to expect or what was going to happen. Then there was the fact that I had no idea what I would need.
I’m a little better prepared now, but I’m still a nervous wreck for a while before the event even happens and then the feeling stays with me for a few days after.
I have three conventions pretty much back-to-back and this is the first one.
It’s the first time I’m doing them so close together and I hope I haven’t screwed myself because of it.
I’ve created a schedule for the next two weeks; one I hope will mean I’m able to make a reasonable amount of treats and be ready for the next event. What do I even know? I’m sometimes surprised at what people buy at certain events and have completely missed the mark more than once before.
I nod at whatever the elf I just checked out is saying while forcing my smile to go even wider and brighten. Well, he’s not really an elf, but he’s fully committed to his cosplay, and I have to say he does make a damn good elf.
“I hope you enjoy the magic mushrooms,” I chirp before leaning in, “without the hallucinogenic effects, of course. They’re just chocolate.”
It’s probably the third time I’ve said it since he walked up to the table. I do not want anyone to think they’re going to be getting high off my chocolate supply. Calling them magic mushroom is just a marketing ploy. Nothing more.
I swear.
“I plan to enjoy them while sitting in my favorite copse of birch. I shall share them with nature.”
After flashing me a wide grin, he turns and melts into the crowd. As much as I hate to admit it, from a business standpoint, I’m glad the crowd has started to thin. I still have some things to sell, but I’m tired and could use a moment.
To not have to talk.
To not have to smile.
As I move to fluff up my display before moving toward the backside of my table, making a little wish for a moment to sit down, a voice rumbles, “Do you think he really has a favorite copse of birch trees?”
I twist toward the words, the gravel in them doing something to me I am not used to experiencing.
Lust burns through me and has me shivering even though the event room has gotten so damn hot I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some heat stroke issues with all the costumes people are wearing.
This kind of lust makes my knees feel weak, but I refuse to crumple to the ground like some southern belle with the vapors.
When my brain fully kicks in, I realize I’m staring at the muscular chest of one of the security guys. I’ve seen him around at events. I think I even flashed him an awkward as hell smile at least once when packing up or unloading or something. What I haven’t done is talk to him.
Talking to hot guys, and this one is hot as hell, is not really something I have a lot of experience with. I tend to get a little tongue tied and far too sweaty for my liking whenever it happens.
I can already feel my face getting warm as I blink up at the man in front of me. His dark eyes are gentle as he looks at me.
I’ve been quiet far too long for someone who was asked a question.
Just when I’m sure that I’ve been broken beyond repair, my brain and mouth catch up enough for me to blurt out, “You don’t have a favorite little grouping of trees?
I have several, but they don’t know about each other.
I’m a copse cheater really. You should try it. ”
My eyes widen and it takes everything in me not to slap both my hands over my mouth. I cannot believe I just said all of that. He’s going to think I’m fucking weird. He wouldn’t be wrong, but normally I hide it for a little while longer.
Much to my surprise, his head tips back as he laughs.
And I eagerly take the opportunity to look him over again.
He’s wearing black pants which hug his thighs in a way that should be illegal.
Then there’s the way the bump in his throat is bobbing as he laughs.
It’s the absolute last thing that should be sexy and yet here I am with hard nipples while my thighs clench and I hope for some friction.
His hair is cropped close to head in a military style cut and even though he has a beard, it’s trimmed and neat.
The soft fabric of the guy’s shirt stretches across his chest and around his shoulders and arms. My eyes traipse down those muscular arms and take in the corded muscles of his forearm. And the bulging veins which is woman catnip? Yeah, he has those too.
Holy fuck.
“What?”
The question has me snapping back to reality instead of the land of sex and debauchery it was wandering into. I’m more than a little tempted to wipe my mouth to make sure I’m not drooling. It wouldn’t surprise me to find some there.
This man is far too hot to be working this convention as security. Honestly, he shouldn’t be working at all. He should be doing what all gods should be doing—lounging on chaises and tipping their head back as maidens feed them grapes, seedless of course, with gentle fingers.
And yet here he is. Right in front of me.
“Uh,” I mumble while waving my hand in a motion I can hope looks more dismissive than panicky, “nothing.”
He makes a humming sound and the small smile playing on his lips turns sly. There’s no doubt in my mind that he heard me. I’m sure he also knows why I said it.
A man like him can’t look like he does and not know what he does to an unsuspecting woman.
Or suspecting, honestly. I don’t think there’s anything I could do to prepare me to be confronted by the man in front of me.
I bet he has a small dick.
Wouldn’t that just be fitting?
Of course, it would be a terrible fate considering how hot he is and how growly and manly he is. Then there’s his height. I’m 5’6” on a good day, one where I stretch a little before busting out the tape measure, but this man looms over me.
Looms.
He’s got to be more than half a foot taller than me. I’d say he’s at least 6’3”, more than likely.
Tall and broad. I wonder if I clung to him if I would feel dainty for the first time in my life.
I’ve always been…more than curvy. I know what I am and as long as my body keeps me going, I’m good with how I look.
I gave up on the whole happily ever after thing when it comes to love a long time ago. It’s not in the cards for me.
But it’s not the end all and be all of happiness or satisfaction.
At least that’s what I tell myself when I’m trying to ignore the loneliness. Cap would be affronted with the notion that he’s not enough to keep those kinds of feelings at bay. But he’s a cat and doesn’t really understand.
Not only that but Cap has Pascal. It’s not like he’ll ever experience loneliness. Pascal would never allow it, the nosey rascal.
“You know, there is a group of oak trees I favor on the route I take when I’m running, so maybe I shouldn’t judge the man for his love of nature,” there’s a teasing edge to the man’s voice and it makes me swallow hard. Suddenly he sticks his hand out between us and offers, “I’m Joss, by the way.”
“I’m Syndal,” the words come out a little hoarse and a whole lot hesitant as I slide my hand into his and hope it’s not clammy. Knowing my luck, it’s downright balmy.
Joss glances at the sign hanging from my table which declares my treat business as ‘Synful Sweets’. I thought it was cute. Now I’m second guessing myself.
What the hell is this guy doing to me?
“I’ve heard a lot of talk about your treats,” he informs me, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “After seeing everything you have, I wish I would have stopped by sooner. I don’t normally have the time and you’re usually busy or sold out.”
“Maybe you’ve earned some good karma then since you’re getting the chance to check everything out,” I throw back at him, wondering why my tongue isn’t tied.
Normally it would be, even when trying to look at Joss as just another customer.
Nothing about this man is ‘just another’ anything. My hands tingle with the need to reach out and grip his shoulders. It’s the strangest fucking impulsive thought.
You can’t just go around sinking your claws into people’s shoulders. It would get you labeled as weird. Or worse.
When Joss’s dark eyes find me again, there’s amusement there. Then they sweep down over me to come back to mine and darken. Fucking darken.
I thought for sure that was just something you read about in romance novels. Or maybe see in a movie if you’re lucky. Is it happening to me? No way. Never could have seen that coming.
With a shake of my head, because my eyes must be playing tricks on me, I point toward my table. “I certainly have sold a lot of things, but there’s a lot to choose from still. What do you like?”
He reaches out and skates his fingers over one of my sign holders pointing toward the chocolate covered bacon and then some peanut butter and chocolate eggs. “I already know it’s going to be hard not to indulge in everything you’re offering.”
The way he says the words is so much…more. My heart starts to pound in my chest in response. Is he really flirting with me? Could it be?
“Maybe today,” I joke, “but just wait for the romance convention coming up. I’ll have chocolate cocks you won’t find as enticing. At least,” I tilt my head to the side, “I don’t think you will.”
Joss chuckles and the warmth of the sound wraps around me while I can feel my face getting hot. I’m sure I’ve turned an embarrassing shade of splotchy red.
“I do think I’ll pass on the chocolate dicks,” his words are puffed out as he chuckles.
Even though he’s laughing and his brown eyes dance with amusement, it doesn’t feel like it is at my expense. Even though it makes no sense, something settles in the middle of my chest and my shoulders relax.
Something crosses Joss’s face, but it’s there and gone so fast I can’t quite catch it.
“They’re not for everyone,” I muse and sigh as if he’s the one missing out.
And he is. He just doesn’t know it. But I’m not surprised about his ability to pass on the experience.
“I’ll be working that convention,” he offers the words to me gently, his voice dropping an octave and making the space around us feel intimate when it shouldn’t even be possible considering where we are. “You’ll be there?”
“Yeah,” the word slips past my lips, and something dances in his eyes.
Movement next to me startles me and I jump slightly. I’m more than a little disoriented when met with a woman in a face full of make-up which makes her look like a dragon. Then there are the wings which wrap around her shoulders like a cocoon.
I almost scream, but the warmth and weight of Joss’s hand on my shoulder traps the sound in my throat. When I glance at him, there’s concern in his eyes. All I can do is nod.
I forgot where I was for a moment, all because I got so lost in…him.
“Sell your treats, Syndal,” he murmurs softly before slipping a twenty in my hand and grabbing two bags from the table.
“Oh, dragon eggs,” the squeal of delight from the woman contemplating eating her own young pulls my attention.
I know Joss has walked away without even looking, as the heat and solidness of him eases slowly. While I miss it, I don’t get the chance to dwell on the sensation.
It doesn’t make any fucking sense anyway.