15. Hades
Hades
Presley walks toward me carrying a coffee and a bag.
I watch her the entire way.
Her face is red from me watching her.
This is such a nice change.
Until now, I’ve hidden when I watched her. I’ve spent my time in the woods, hiding behind trees, or standing beneath the cover of darkness, watching her through windows.
Last night, I stood over her and watched her while she slept.
Here, I don’t have to hide.
And judging from the pink covering her entire face, she doesn't mind.
She reaches the table and looks at the chair I pushed out for her. “You really are bossy.”
I shrug. “You must like it. You came back.”
“I needed somewhere to sit.”
I stare at her. “There are other tables.”
Her eyes narrow.
I wait.
Finally, she sits.
I almost smile. “See?”
“See what?”
“You came back. You wanted to sit with me.”
She pulls her food from the bag. “I'm already regretting it.”
“No, you're not.”
Her gaze snaps to mine.
Fuck. That blush. I want to see how far down it goes.
Penny lies beside my chair, apparently having decided I'm responsible for her now. I reach down and scratch behind her ears.
Presley watches me. Something soft enters her expression.
I know that look.
She gave it to me yesterday when I admitted I liked Penny.
It's dangerous.
I like it too fucking much.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“That's not a nothing face.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Just... you’re so good with Penny.”
“She’s sweet.” Just like you. “How’s the second day of work?”
She stills, blinking at me.
“What?”
“You remembered.”
I remember everything you say.
Every expression. Every habit. Every detail she gives me.
And the ones she doesn’t.
But I don't tell her that.
“Of course.” I lean forward slightly. “I pay attention.”
She squirms in her seat, her cheeks turning scarlet again.
Damn, I love seeing her flustered.
She clears her throat, then unwraps a sandwich. “So how's the book?”
“You already asked me.”
“And you avoided answering.”
“I answered.”
“No. You tormented me with non-answers.”
“Dramatic.”
“You said no.”
“To a different question.”
She points her sandwich at me. “Exactly. Torment.”
I almost laugh.
Presley takes a bite.
I reach for my coffee.
This is strange, sitting across from her, talking like we barely know one another.
Correction: she barely knows me.
I know more about this woman than she realizes.
Where she lives.
Which window belongs to her bedroom.
That she talks to Penny when no one else is around.
That she likes twenty-eight-dollar Halloween rugs that look like shit.
That she sleeps on her side.
That her skin is even softer than I imagined.
I even know what her house sounds like in the middle of the night.
But I didn’t know what kind of sandwich she orders. Or how she takes her coffee. Or what her favorite color is.
The things I've stolen aren't the things she's chosen to give me.
For some reason, sitting here waiting for her to give me something feels more intimate than standing beside her bed.
That realization unsettles me.
“So,” she says.
I look at her.
“You're new in town, right?”
“Yeah.”
“How new?”
“A few days.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Where'd you move from?”
I take a drink. “Somewhere else.”
She stares at me.
“What?”
She takes a drink of her coffee. “Do you practice being evasive, or does it come naturally?”
“Natural talent.”
“Impressive.”
“Thanks.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
“I took it as one.”
Her mouth twitches. “So what brought you to Hollow Creek?”
“Needed somewhere new.”
“That's vague.”
“It was supposed to be.”
She laughs.
There it is. That fucking laugh.
I heard it yesterday when she was standing on her back porch.
But she doesn't know that.
Today I don't need trees between us to hear it.
I like this better.
“You're mysterious.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You won't tell me where you're from.”
I shrug. “Doesn't make me mysterious.”
“You look like you have at least three aliases.”
I stare at her.
She bursts out laughing.
I smile before I can stop myself.
Her laughter dies.
She stares at me, stunned.
“What?”
“You’re smiling.”
“So?”
“I wasn't sure you could.”
“Asshole.”
Her mouth falls open. She notices my smirk and starts laughing again.
Fuck. I could get addicted to that sound.
Maybe I already am.
“Do you live alone?” she asks.
“My brother lives with me.”
“You have a brother?”
“Wilder.”
“Older or younger?”
“Younger.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“And your brother?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Ah. Two years apart.” She takes another drink. “Is he like you?”
“No.”
She considers that. “More intimidating?”
“More annoying.”
Her grin returns.
“He'd probably say the same thing about me.”
“Does he read romance?”
“Fuck no.”
“Neither did you yesterday.”
I look at the book. She has a point. “He gave me shit about it.”
“I like Wilder already.”
“No, you don't.”
“Sure I do. You just said he's annoying.”
“He is.”
“Maybe I like annoying people, too.”
“You like me.” The words leave my mouth before I think about them.
Presley freezes.
So do I.
Her cheeks turn pink.
There it fucking is again.
I lean back. “Don’t you?”
She looks down at her sandwich. “Don't get cocky.”
“You didn't answer me.”
“Maybe I find you mildly tolerable.”
“Bullshit.”
Her eyes return to mine.
Something changes between us. The teasing remains, but underneath it is something heavier. Hotter.
Her gaze drops to my mouth for a brief moment. But it’s enough.
Last night, I touched her cheek while she slept.
Today, she's thinking about kissing me.
I wonder what she'd do if I leaned across this table. If I put my hand behind her neck and brought her mouth to mine.
My dick hardens.
Not here.
More importantly, not yet.
I want her to choose it.
That thought surprises me.
I've taken plenty from Presley without asking. But this? I want her awake. Looking at me. Wanting me.
“Why Hollow Creek?” she asks, breaking the tension.
I take another drink of coffee. “Found the cabin online.”
“You live in a cabin?”
“Technically.”
She laughs. “What does technically mean?”
“It has walls.”
Her eyebrows pull together.
“A roof.”
“Hades.”
“Mostly functional plumbing.”
She laughs again. “Oh my God. Where the hell are you living?”
“In the woods.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake.
Her expression changes slightly. It’s subtle, but I see it.
Her fingers stop against her coffee cup. “In the woods?”
“Outside town.”
“Oh.”
She doesn’t say anything more.
I watch her. Something moves behind those green eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Presley.”
And there it is again. That little flicker of uncertainty.
“I live outside town, too,” she says quietly.
I know.
“Alone?”
“With Penny.”
“That's not what I meant.”
She takes a bite of her sandwich and chews. “I lived with my grandmother.”
Lived. Past tense.
The photograph flashes through my mind. Presley standing beside the older woman. Both laughing.
Her grandmother.
Has to be.
“She died recently.” Her voice changes, becoming softer. “Cancer.”
Something inside me twists. “I'm sorry.”
She gives me a sad smile. “Thanks.”
For several seconds, neither of us speaks.
She gave me this piece of information.
I didn't have to steal it.
That shouldn't matter, but it does.
“She raised me,” Presley says. “Her and my grandfather, mostly.”
I don't ask why. Even though I really want to know.
But I know what it's like when family isn't something you want to explain to a stranger.
“My grandfather died a few years ago. So when Grandma got sick...” She shrugs. “There wasn't anyone else.”
“You took care of her.”
“Yeah.” Her gaze drops. “I took a break from school.”
“What were you studying?”
“English.”
I glance around us. “Shocking.”
“Shut up.”
I almost smile. “What do you plan to do with it?”
“I want to teach college.”
“A professor?”
“That's the plan.”
She looks different when she says it. Brighter. I like seeing her that way.
“Then you'll do it.”
Her eyes meet mine. “You don't even know me.”
“I know enough.” More than you realize.
Her expression softens again.
Fuck.
I look away.
Penny puts her paws against my leg. I reach down and scratch her head.
Presley laughs softly. “She's obsessed with you.”
My hand stills.
Obsessed.
If only she knew.
“Smart dog.”
“Cocky.”
“You like that too.”
She throws a napkin at me.
I catch it. “And violent.”
“Oh, please.”
I put the napkin beside my coffee. “Should I be afraid of you?”
Her eyes sparkle. “Probably.”
She takes another drink of her coffee. “Should I be afraid of you?”
I hold her gaze. “Yes. You should be.”
Her smile falters.
For one beat, neither of us says anything.
Uncertainty flickers on her face. Maybe even the tiniest hint of fear.
Something dark inside me responds to it.
She thinks I'm flirting.
And I am.
But I'm also telling her the truth.
Then Gracie drops some cups and the spell is broken.
Presley checks the time. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
“My lunch break is over.” She starts gathering her trash. “I have to get back.”
Disappointment hits me hard enough to piss me off.
I don't want her to leave. Twenty minutes isn't enough.
But an hour wouldn't be enough, either.
Last night wasn't enough.
Nothing involving Presley seems to be enough anymore.
She stands and reaches for Penny's leash.
I don't hand it to her right away.
“Hades.”
I like my name in her mouth too fucking much.
I finally hand it over.
“When am I seeing you again?” The question leaves my mouth before I can stop it.
Presley's eyebrows raise.
I could pretend I don't care about the answer.
After all, I’ll see her tonight through her window.
And from inside her house while she sleeps.
Presley doesn’t get to decide whether I see her.
I’ve already made that decision.
But I want something else from her.
I want her to want to see me.
Her smile comes slowly. “Depends.”
“On?”
She nods toward the book. “Whether you finish that.”
I glance down at it. “Tonight.”
“Seriously? That’s a lot to read.”
“Challenge accepted.”
She shakes her head and starts toward the door with Penny.
Halfway there, she turns around. “Bye, Hades.”
“Bye, Presley.”
Then she's gone.
I stare through the window as she walks toward The Crooked Spine.
I came to Bramble & Bean because I knew she’d come here.
I brought the book because I hoped she'd see me reading it.
I chose a table where I'd see her the second she walked in.
Presley thinks finding me here was an accident.
I let her believe that.
But something about our conversation bothers me.
Not the things I learned.
The way I learned them.
Presley gave them to me. Told me about her grandmother and her plans. Pieces of herself I didn't have to take.
And somehow, those are the pieces I value most.
I look down at the book.
For the first time since I saw Presley through that window, I wonder whether watching her is really what I want.
Because sitting across from her while she laughs? That's much better.
And a bigger fucking problem when she finds out I’m the one who’s been watching her.