Chapter Forty-One
SUNNY
Normally, the winter months call for busier days in the emergency room, especially on holidays. But not today. With the empty rooms and all my snacks already eaten, it looks like such a contrast to last week where we had gurneys lined in the hallways.
Amidst the chaos of the hospital holiday season, I haven’t had much of a chance to see the family since Christmas day. Overtime shifts have been offered with generous incentives, so I couldn’t say no considering my savings took a hit coming here.
Considering the down time, I decide to catch up on the family thread where several messages are waiting to be read about our plans tonight.
New Year's Eve.
Naturally, the celebration will be held at Tyler's place, with a rooftop firework show over the harbor and a fire-pit to roast s’mores.
It’s like he knows he’s been summoned in my mind, because a text in our personal thread pops up.
Want to help me with dinner prep? You can come here instead of going straight home.
Either he forgot I’m at work or doesn’t care. I glance around again, making sure there aren’t any ambos or people in the waiting room.
I respond.
Funny you text me at such a convenient time, looks like I may be getting off early. Low census today.
His response is within seconds.
I’ll be there in ten minutes to pick you up.
My brows crease as I type and delete, type and delete. Before I can even send my text, our charge nurse, Tara, is calling my name.
“Sunny! We are sending you home!”
Ten minutes later, I’m walking out of the hospital into the frigid air, where I see Tyler leaning against his truck with two coffees from Betty’s Beans in hand. With each step I take, his smile grows bigger.
“Coffee snob buys coffee that he doesn’t like?” I fake a gasp.
“Only for you.” He winks, planting a kiss on my forehead.
It’s effortless for him, isn’t it? To care for me. Something I didn’t think was but actually is.
“Thank you.” I take a sip. It doesn’t go past me the way he gives me a slow once over, taking in the scrubs and messy hair. Something switches in his eyes when they flick back up to mine.
He opens the door to the truck and says, “You look ravishing.”
I blink up at him, feeling the weight of this moment over me. Before I could even notice, Tyler and I have started to bleed out of friend-zone territory. No boundaries were set up when we decided to do, well whatever it is we’re doing.
Yet, I can’t help the way my heart gives an extra thump in my chest when I see those green eyes looking at me like there’s something worth looking at.
Coffee in hand because he actually thought about me on his way here.
With a body on display in all the best ways by that thermal gripping his hard earned muscles.
An added perk that sends my heart into its own personal spiral.
And I realize I’m in deep trouble. I like you, Tyler.
I clear my throat and break our too long gaze. “I feel ravished.” I hop into the truck.
“You won’t know ravished until I’m done with you.” He grins. “So, is everyone too busy to be sick today?” he asks, bracing his arms above the door. His comment catches me off guard with how casual his tone is. Yet, it still does something inside me. Like there’s stupid butterflies in my stomach.
So fucking in trouble.
“I guess so.” I shrug. “So, why did you ask me to help you?”
He arches a brow. “Everyone else was busy.” Then he closes the door and walks to his side of the truck.
“Mmmm.” I hum in response.
“You don’t have to believe me. But it’s the honest truth.” He flutters his eyelashes, placing a hand on his chest.
I hide my smile behind the coffee cup while I slide down in the passenger side. Was he always like this? Or have I somehow brought out a version of him that no one else gets to see? His friendship is one of my most cherished possessions. What will this unchartered territory do to that?
He starts the car and hits the road. We sit in comfortable silence while music softly plays and we sip our coffees. Pink cheeked glances and too wide smiles are shared along the short ride. And somehow, his hand finds my thigh, and I don’t remove it.
Rolling the window down, I pull my hair out of my bun and stick my head out the window to feel the crisp air on my face while I rest my arms on the window frame.
It’s small moments like this that become my favorite.
Ones that I wasn’t able to cherish before, because silence usually meant something was wrong.
In between moments like these were filled with dread about what was to come.
Pulling into the parking lot, I unbuckle my seatbelt. “What are you making for all of us tonight, Chef Tyler?”
“Pasta,” he says, unbuckling his own.
I start opening my door, but feel Tyler’s arm reach across me, grabbing the handle to slam it back shut.
“That’s my job, Sunny. You should know that by now.” He gets out of the truck and rounds it to open my door.
“Was that necessary?” I ask.
“Absolutely.”
Once inside, he grabs a cart and wheels himself down the aisle, riding it with one foot and pedaling himself with the other.
He’s a damn hitman, and he’s wheeling himself down the aisles like a little boy. A glance over his shoulder reveals a boyish grin to further prove my point. For someone so lethal, he seems so harmless right now.
“Why do you keep looking at me?” I ask with a nervous laugh.
“I like to appreciate beautiful things,” he says, wheeling ahead, leaving me in the crop dust of his words.
I shamelessly watch the muscles of his back move as he clings to the cart. The notes of sweat tell me he must’ve come from the gym. Either that, or maybe I make him nervous enough to cause a sheen of sweat.
I’d like to think it’s that option.
“Okay,” He interrupts my thoughts. My eyes move from where they were on his ass to where he stands in front of me now.
A devilish grin pulls his lips. “Were you just staring at my ass?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feign nonchalance as I take another sip of my coffee.
He chuckles and holds up two boxes. “Which pasta?”
“Whichever is cheapest?”
“Money isn’t an issue, Sunny.”
It's at this moment I’m sucker punched by the reality of who Tyler is, and the power he holds.
He’s important. He’s needed. He’s powerful.
He’s a goddamn hitman. He’ll own that company one day and he’s killed people to do it.
And here I am, shamelessly flirting with him over boxed pasta.
A nobody girl on the run from a man who may not even be chasing her.
“I don’t know, aren’t you the cook?”
Dropping his arms, he tilts his head. “Sunny?”
“Tyler?” I cross my arms.
“You’re cute when you’re annoyed,” he comments and then he kisses my fucking nose. “You’re right, we need pasta made from scratch.” He places the boxes back.
I stand still, clutching my coffee cup so tightly I dent it. Still feeling the effects of his lips on my skin ripple through my body.
I hate that I like you, Tyler.
“Red sauce or white sauce?” he asks.
“Well, which goes better with champagne?” I swallow hard when I take a glance around and notice people are watching us. Noticing he’s with me, a nobody. Tyler seems oblivious or just down right doesn’t care. I know it’s the latter.
“Honestly, I think white sauce would complement champagne more.” He tosses cheese and heavy cream into the cart.
“I’ll trust your judgment.” I look at the contents in the cart.
He comes up behind me, bracing the cart so his chest is pressed to my back. The familiar scent of him encases me, only somewhat calming my frantic heart.
They see us, Tyler.
“It’s good to know you trust me,” he whispers low in my ear.
“Tyler, people know you here. They know who you are, and they’re watching.” I peer around again. They aren’t supposed to know.
He removes himself from me, freeing me from the cage of his arms. “So?” he says, inspecting what looks like a block of cheese and then tosses it in the cart.
“I don’t care. So why should you?” He crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps even more prominent now.
It’s hard to not notice these details of him when they are screaming at me.
“Aren’t you worried they will say something?”
“To who? My parents? Sunny, you and I both know I don’t care about my parent’s opinions.
I’m twenty-nine years old. I don’t need mommy and daddy's approval.” He tosses another item into the cart.
“I’m a regular in this store. That’s the only reason why they know me.
It’s not like they know who I am and even if they did, I don’t give a fuck.
My reputation would be the one thing to deter them. ”
I feel his large, calloused hand lace into mine. Looking up, I watch as he brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it. “See? I don’t give a shit.”
Which would've been fine, except he doesn’t let go. He still clings to my hand, our fingers still laced together as we walk through the store.
I don’t stop him, either. I keep my hand in his, unaware of how to let go because it feels too good.
It’s kind of funny, everything we’ve done intimately was behind closed doors, in the middle of the night without anyone knowing — to this.
We never really explored this portion of our relationship. The small, flirty, butterflies in your belly gestures such as hand holding in public.
We aren’t supposed to. We shouldn’t.
We are supposed to be friends with benefits. Only fulfilling one another’s sexual desires behind closed doors, despite the fact we haven’t even had sex yet. Not kisses and hand holding and coffee.
Yet, I don’t remove my hand from his.