CHAPTER 5
SYNDAL
I’m tired. The last two weeks have been filled with spending all of my time, when I’m not at work, making my wares for today’s market.
I wouldn’t have normally done this one, but it’s a New Year’s local artisan market.
I couldn’t pass it up just like I couldn’t pass up the romance book event in two more weeks.
You better believe I skipped the cock molds for the event today.
And I also dressed up a little bit. The sweater I’m wearing is new and there’s even sparkly thread woven through.
It’s not super heavy, which is perfect. And I have a shirt I can put on if it gets too hot.
When you get a lot of bodies together, it warms up, no matter how big the space is. It’s just how it goes.
But it’s also very fucking cold.
It would be warm in Joss’s arms.
I let out a groan and cover it with a cough as I force the smile on my face to widen slightly as I make eye contact with a woman walking with her family. She doesn’t approach, but that’s okay.
I’ll admit that I haven’t just been making things for today for the last two weeks and working.
I’ve also been regretting not giving Joss my number.
Maybe it was some strange joke, but what if it wasn’t?
Or I mean, it wouldn’t have hurt anything beyond my pride, maybe, if I hadn’t laughed and blown the man off.
Honestly, I think I just short circuited. I even used the term ‘pity date’ which makes me cringe just thinking about it. What possessed me to let my mouth run away from me like that?
It’s not a problem I’m used to having except with people who I know and feel comfortable with. I just keep my thoughts to myself otherwise. Obviously, I was tired two weeks ago.
Or maybe there’s something about him.
Yeah, it’s a possibility. It’s one I’ve been mulling over, especially in those quiet moments of peace when doing what I love the most. In the silence, regret and doubt crept in.
The sight of him in front of me and the earnestness in his eyes was sincere. I don’t think he was joking. But I just, I don’t know how to explain it. But that’s not what I saw in that moment. Or maybe I’m only remembering it the way I wanted it to go?
I just don’t know, but I do know that a man who looks like he does has never asked me for my number before and I blew the whole interaction. I blew it big time.
To compile the entire shit storm of a situation which has been haunting me, an indie romance author I follow shared a cover reveal a few days ago. Lo and behold, color me surprised when I was taking a moment and doom scrolling, to find Joss on that very cover. All oiled up.
And the man was shirtless.
I barely swallow down the squeak that wants to come out of me from thinking about it. Shirtless! It was just as good as I knew it would be. Probably better.
And he was just there on the cover of a romance novel.
The only good thing about seeing it was that it was just him on the cover and there wasn’t some woman wrapped around him.
Even the thought of it, though it would have been fake and just for a photo shoot, makes my heart ache and jealousy spike inside of me.
I’m not used to feeling jealousy. Wow. It’s a heavy feeling.
As I blow out a breath, I try to keep my shit together and not make it obvious that I’m looking around for him. I’m being ridiculous. It’s not like I have a claim on the man. Hell, I turned him down when he asked for my phone number and basically treated him asking for it at all like a joke.
Shame burns in my gut. I shouldn’t have laughed in his face. I can’t think of a worse regret in my life at the moment.
I can’t even believe I did that. It wasn’t until later, when I was back home and able to relax, that I realized what I did. Talk about mortified.
Something pulls tight in my gut, and my head snaps up and I start to look around because the feeling of someone watching me is impossible to ignore.
That’s when I see him and my entire body goes hot and my pussy clenches around nothing.
A dizzy feeling washes over me while my chest burns before I gasp for breath.
When the hell did I start holding my breath anyway?
Fuck. This man disrupts me in ways I don’t think I’ll ever understand. Breathing is one of the most basic, lizard brain type of things, but one look at Joss and it’s like I can’t function on a primitive level.
I’m not sure if I crave more of this feeling or if I hate it to the depths of who I am. I think it’s a mixture of both considering the way I have to fight myself not to grin from ear to ear.
The determined look on Joss’s face is sexy as fuck. His footfalls are deliberate as he stalks closer to me with a single-minded focus. He doesn’t even glance at the people around us. Nope, his eyes are locked onto me.
The odd thing is that the way he’s looking at me doesn’t make me want to make a break for it and run in the opposite direction. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that I’m sure he’ll be able to hear it.
“Syndal,” he murmurs my name as he stops right in front of me, “I have to tell you that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.
It’s been two weeks of torture since I didn’t have your number.
I thought about sending you a message on your business social media, but then you could have ignored it.
I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”
“I wouldn’t have done that,” my voice comes out huskier than it normally does. At least, it sounds that way to me.
His eyelids drop to half-mast and he growls softly. My nipples pebble and I’m glad I went with a padded bra today. I wanted to feel a little more dressed up and the sports bra I normally wear wasn’t going to cut it.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he tells me and his words feel like a promise more than a threat.
As I nod and bite my lip, I give myself a little mental push. Now is my chance. Am I really going to let it pass me by?
Nerves hit me full force as I clear my throat and straighten my spine. I’m not going to cower when I’ve lived with the regret of blowing this man off for the last two weeks. I can let it continue to haunt me, or I can do something about it.
I’m normally one to let things haunt me. Honestly, I still think about things that happened in grade school and cringe; those thoughts always seem to come to me in the quietest of moments like when I’m trying to fall asleep. But just because that is my normal, doesn’t mean it has to stay that way.
This time I can do something about it. This time I should do something about it.
“I should have given you my number,” I blurt out my confession and ignore the way my face heats in response.
This is not the time to be a nervous wreck; it’s time to take responsibility and own what I did. And how I’ve felt about it since I stewed over it and wallowed in regret.
Joss’s lips tip up into a smile and my breath hitches.
The man has a resting serious face, which makes him look intimidating in his security uniform.
But there’s something about when he smiles.
It makes him light up from the inside out and I can’t help but wonder how often he smiles and if I can make him do it more.
Not that I’ll be spending that much time with him, I’m sure, but still. The sentiment is a good one.
The man should laugh more. And I’ll stand by that.
I try to hold onto my confidence as I admit, “I’d like to give it to you or I’d like yours? I’m not really sure how this works now.” I tilt my head to the side and weakly offer my words like an olive branch, “I’d like a re-do?”
His eyes soften as he looks down at me and something flashes there. It might be desire. Or it could be indigestion? Like, is it attraction or gas? I need to fucking know these things and I have no idea.
I’m out of my depths here. An alarm siren starts to go off in my head. Am I not breathing again? Am I going down?
Abandon ship.
Abandon ship!
We’re going down.
Iceberg!
The weight of Joss’s hands as they come down on my shoulders grounds me and my focus snaps back into place. I find myself looking up into his dark eyes. I’d say the look he’s giving me is partly concern and mostly amusement.
That’s better than disgust with a side of ‘should I call someone from a sanitarium?’, but one with Victorian era vibes.
After swallowing hard, I press my lips together and look up at him. I’m not spiraling anymore, but I’m trying really hard not to babble right now and the silence isn’t helping. It’s also not helping that he hasn’t given me an answer.
Which is glaringly obvious to me.
“Syndal,” he rumbles, a husky edge to his voice which has me moments away from epically swooning, “can I get your number? I’d really like to take you out on a date, and I need to be able to finalize those details with you.
I know you’ve got to be busy with another event in two weeks.
If our date is me helping you, then I’m good with that. ”
“What are you doing?”
The question comes out an octave higher than it should and a little on the shrill side. I wince; hard. But Joss holds steady. Resolute. Strong.
He doesn’t even blink.
“I’m giving us both a re-do.”
The words land between us.
Heavy and sincere.
“I’d really like that. But, uh,” I glance away from him before courage I’ve never felt before wells up inside of me and I look back into his brown eyes, “do you think we can do more than stay in with you helping me?”
Joss steps closer while his eyebrows pull together. The confusion on his face is kind of adorable, and I melt at the way he is shielding me from everyone around us. And we certainly aren’t alone.
“I just mean, I’ve never been on a real date,” I explain, my mouth going dry with how pathetic I sound.
I want to explain. I want to tell him about how I’ve been in one relationship, but we didn’t date.
He didn’t take me out. But we spent time together.
We had sex. I thought we fell in love, but I was alone in that.
He went off to college while I stayed in Denver for school and that was that.
It was fine, but it wasn’t what anyone could consider a courtship.
Joss’s eyes narrow with determination, his voice is steel as he promises, “I’ll take you on the best fucking first date of your life, Sugar. It’ll be your last, but we’ll get into those details later.”
I blink a few times and stutter, “Wh-what?”
His lips curl into a devilish smirk before he swoops down and kisses my forehead. The touch of his lips against my skin is so brief that I think I must have made it up when he pulls his phone out of his pocket and winks.
Or maybe I didn’t make it up?
I’m not really sure.
“What’s your number, Syndal?”
I rattle off the numbers automatically, a reflex more than anything else. Not that I don’t want him to have it. I do. I’ve been wishing for this chance. For a replay, a re-do, whatever.
When he’s done, he holds his phone up to show me how I’m saved under ‘Sweet Syn’. I almost fall to the ground in a puddle of adorableness that not even Cap and Pascal could rival. Holy shit. This man is potent.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” he tells me, his eyes dancing with something like victory and hope.
He slips back into the crowd. Somehow, I manage to make it through the rest of the event. I’m not entirely sure how because I’m in a daze the entire time. Except during the moments when I can feel his eyes on me.
It takes me longer to pack up than it normally does, my movements becoming almost sluggish from the exhaustion I’ve been battling along with working up the strength I needed to talk to Joss. I did it. I was honest. And he’s going to call me.
I think. Or I hope.
Maybe he won’t?
“Sugar,” Joss drawls from behind me as I set the last container in my cart, finally ready to roll out of the convention center.
When I gasp and jerk slightly, he’s right there to steady me. I look around and realize I’m the last person packing up. Apparently, I was lost in my own world.
“What are you still doing here?” The question is ridiculous; the man works here.
He has the good manners not to say it. “I’m taking you out to get something to eat.
It might not be some super mega first date, but it’ll be real and it won’t be our officially first date-date.
” I stare at him for a moment and the tips of his ears turn adorably pink.
“I’ve been watching you, Syndal, and you’ve been working for hours without a break.
” When he grabs my hand and looks at me, his eyes pleading, I’m a fucking goner.
“Let me take care of you, just a little.”
“Okay.”
It’s the only thing I can say. It’s the only thing I want to say.
Hopefully, he’s the real deal because I could easily fall for him. If I haven’t already.