25. Leif
25
I managed to find an excuse to be needed at Parlour Tricks every afternoon this week. Jeremy was there for the cabinetry to be installed, but I stopped in at the end of the day to make sure everything looked good.
I expected Claire to come in and see for herself, but nothing.
I stopped in again yesterday when her fancy gold chandeliers were delivered.
Still no sight of her. She’s pulling away and I fucking hate it.
I want to go back to when she gave me all her sass and orgasms. We’ve moved into this awkward stage where we know each other so intimately, but at the same time, we’re strangers.
I felt her letting me in a little more with every night we spent together. She fought like hell against it, but I could feel those rare moments she gifted me where the curtains pulled back just a little. The moments where she smiled a little easier. Where she would nuzzle into the warmth of my arms for just a little longer. Leave a blazing trail of soft kisses up my neck, as if she couldn’t stop touching me. Holding me in her bubble where she didn’t let real feelings penetrate her, she would shut everything out apart from the physical needs that ruled her.
Learning about her upbringing explained a lot about her reactions from the moment we met. But right when I felt like I might have a chance to pull her over the walls she hides behind, we learned our true identities, and everything went up in smoke. The foundation of trust I’d been building crumbled.
Upbeat music and a combination of cuisines consume the air as Tristan and I walk through the crowd filling Main Street.
Festoon lights are strung up from one side of the street to the other, where people instead of cars cover the roads.
The whole street has been shut down for the festival, with all the businesses along the lane opening up throughout the night. Tables and chairs extend from the footpath to the road in front of Sweet Escape.
Just past that is the florist, Heartfelt Blooms. Huge floral displays are scattered along the paths with people taking photos in front of them.
My eyes pull across the street where Parlour Tricks is.
The shop is closed since it’s still technically under construction, but the business signs are up on the windows and above the door. String lights line the frames, highlighting a huge Opening Soon banner with a list of the salon’s services.
I can’t help but wonder what Claire might be up to. The last time I laid eyes on her was when we hooked up at the salon last week. When I was buried deep inside her, holding her close to me. That delicate plum and vanilla scent held my senses hostage, her soft skin rendering me submissive. I didn’t want to let her go. I never want to. But once she came down, she couldn’t get out of there quick enough.
“Do you want to get a drink first and then keep wandering around?” Tristan asks from beside me.
“Sure.” I nod.
We move onto the road where the people are more dispersed and make it to the cocktail lounge, Chord and Coupe. We manage to grab a high-top table in the middle, right under the gigantic jacaranda trees. More lights are strung up from the roots to the branches above, making an illuminated canopy.
“I’ll go order for us. Beer?”
“Yeah, I’ll have a Pale Ale. Thanks.” Tristan nods and walks off in the direction of the bar.
I spot Liv, the owner of Sweet Escape, bringing a tray of drinks out as I people watch.
Families and couples are out in full swing. I’ve always been content with the trajectory of my life, never hungry for more or less. I considered myself a pretty easygoing guy, happy to take life as it comes.
Until I met Claire.
Now, I’m famished. Desperate to devour her fire. She is that spark. That ignition of life that makes my skin prick and my senses delight in anticipation. My Bombshell is much like a flame; get too close, and she’ll burn you. But if you place yourself carefully, not too close and not too quickly, she’ll keep you warm. She’ll let you glow in her embers.
“Lee!” My obsessive thoughts are disrupted by the ever-upbeat tenor of Mason Heart.
He bounds through the crowd like a kid in a candy shop. Big smile and a permanent bounce in his step. He’s wearing a white T-shirt with the Two Hearts Homes logo across the front, the construction company he owns with his sister. My business focuses on commercial builds and renovations, whereas Mason does new homes.
“Are you working tonight?” I ask looking down at his shirt as he steps up beside me, and I slap my palm against his in greeting.
He takes a seat at one of the stools around the table and looks down at his shirt.
“We’re one of the sponsors for tonight, so Beth said I had to wear it.” He shrugs.
“Tristan just went to get drinks. Do you want anything?”
“Nah, I was making my way over to that bakery. Apparently, the cannolis are to die for,” he says, pointing over to Sweet Escape.
“Everything’s good there. I’m working on that beauty salon at the moment.” I say, nodding my chin over my shoulder to Parlour Tricks. “The boys and I have been making a dent in the menu.”
“Wow. Looks pink.”
I can’t help but chuckle at his assessment. Yep, it’s a fuckload of pink. Just how my Bombshell likes it.
“The owner has an affinity for the colour.” I smile.
“She hot?”
In an instant, my smile drops, and my teeth grind in jealousy. I’ve always considered Mason a friend, but I will punch him if I need to. I roll my shoulders back to reign in the possessive need threatening to choke me.
“You’ve met her,” I tell him.
“I have?”
I pull off the Connors Construction cap that sits backwards on my head to run my fingers through my hair, gathering my thoughts. As per usual, whenever it comes to Claire, my mind is a battlefield. There’s the clear path of victory in which I stay level-headed and let her lead the way. But then there’s the call for action that roars in my head, urging me to shake her and scream, ‘Just let me look after you, dammit!’ The fact that I do know what she needs—patience and stability—is the only reason I’m content for her to stay in charge. Most of the time.
“The Wayside. A couple of weeks ago when Gage was trying to make you a bartender.”
Mason’s brows pinch in thought, combing through his memory as he tries to place her. I see the moment when it registers. Those mismatched eyes widen, making the green and blue of each one pop.
“The sassy little blonde you were performing a mating ritual with?”
“A what?”
“Man, even I was ready to go after that little display.”
I shake my head with an amused huff.
Mason’s a bit of a playboy. Not in the direct and desensitised way his older brother, Caleb, seems to be. He’s always in the tabloids with a new woman on his arm at whatever high-profile event he’s attending. The next week, he’ll be photographed with another woman with a comment from last week’s date saying how heartbroken she is that she wasn’t the one.
I’m sure all these women only want his money and status.
Mason, however, he’s just that guy that gets along with everyone, and he’s not shy about saying it. He attracts the girls that want the one-time fun to say they’ve had it. They don’t want anything more, and neither does he. He’s just living that fast-paced life and enjoying the ride.
“Wait,” he says. “So, you’re hooking up with your client? Is that a good idea?”
“I didn’t know she was my client when we first hooked up.” I grimace.
When I look back at Mason, he’s blinking at me with a blank expression. I’m about to ask him if he’s alright when he throws his head back and laughs with his whole body.
“Jesus. You dick,” I mumble as I jump back with a start, lowering my head as I take in the curious glances of patrons on the neighbouring tables.
“How the fuck did that happen?” Mason asks on a wheeze.
“Let’s just say it pays to talk a little more before you hook up with someone. And always,” I point a stern finger at him, “exchange names.”
Mason’s still chuckling to himself when Tristan arrives with our beers.
“Hey Mase,” Tristan says as he places the drinks on the table.
He brushes a hand over his cream chinos before extending it to Mason.
I smile when my eyes land on the tattoos that cover his forearms.
Little symbols for people in our family. A peach for his mum. A camera for Astrid. A lightning bolt for Thyra. A watering can for my mum. A fishing rod for my dad. And a Viking axe for me.
Another thing that makes me think of Claire. She joked once that I was a Viking, so that’s how I saved myself in her phone. Then she started to call me Lover Boy more often. With more affection. More meaning.
The axe is meant to represent strength and bravery. Tristan says that’s what I bring to our family. I’m the strength, the protector, someone they can all depend on.
I wish I could help Claire see all the ways I can offer that to her. I know she’s scared of what us getting closer might bring, but surely, she knows by now that while she can be vulnerable, she never has to be scared with me. I’ll always take care of her, and I’ll keep showing up and proving it until she’s ready to let go and fall into my arms.
“Hey, man. How’s your mum?” Mason asks.
I would join their conversation, but the woman who owns my attention even when she’s not around has just hypnotised me once again. Standing over by a pop-up ice cream stand in a soft yellow sundress.
Her tousled hair hangs on her shoulders, reminding me of how soft it is when my fingers are buried within the strands.
She’s laughing easily at a guy looking at her with stars in his eyes, and a red haze consumes me.
I’m up and out of my seat in the blink of an eye, storming over to where Claire stands, unaware of the raw possession flaring within me.
I zigzag through the crowd, my body on autopilot as it navigates the people, but my eyes stay locked on the bombshell almost within reach.
My steps slow enough when I approach that I don’t flat out bump into her, but she must sense my presence crowding at her back once I stop. Her neck straightens, shoulders open, preparing for defence.
“Fancy seeing you here, Bombshell,” I purr into her ear, my eyes narrowing on the guy who previously held her attention. I’ll be taking that now, thank you.
As I stand over her, letting her presence consume me, I feel her defences waiver.
Whether she means to or not, she leans ever so slightly into me, her back accepting the strength of my chest behind her.
Standing like this, her head perfectly fits under my chin, and I want to tuck her into my arms. Envelop her with my claim, showing her and everyone else here that she’s mine. Mine to protect. To praise. To earn. Maybe more, if she’d ever let me.
That brief pause of defeat is enough for me to chance winding my arm around the curve of her hip, drawing over her stomach and pulling her more firmly against my body.
When she accepts the encouragement to fall into me, I want to scream from the rooftops. Look at this woman. This beautiful, strong woman accepts my pledge to be the one she puts her trust in. She, at the very least, grants me the audition to try.
Smug satisfaction beats against my chest like a caveman when I see the guy notice where my hand falls and stays.
“Who’s your friend?” I ask, punctuating the friend part. All other positions have been filled as far as I’m concerned.
Claire’s hair tickles under my chin as she swivels her head to look up at me over her shoulder. I’m not prepared for the proximity of those whiskey eyes on me when I meet her gaze. The warm brown irises, filled with gold veins, look even more enchanting with the light dusting of gold shimmer over her lids. Her long lashes are coated in mascara, making her eyes look wide open and inviting.
“This is Matt. We went to school together.”
Matt lets out the douchiest laugh known to man and I put him firmly in the loser column.
“And we went to the school ball together,” he adds as he looks at Claire as if they hold some unique sort of bond just because they went to a dance together. “King and Queen of Heart City High.” I hate him.
“So you’ve always been a queen then?” I give a gentle squeeze of her hip, my arm bound around her waist, holding her tighter against me as I nuzzle into her neck. The giggle she emits would have gone unregistered if I didn’t feel the way her body shakes against mine.
“So, how is it you two know each other?” Second-best asks.
I hum in delight, taking advantage of the way Claire is lowering her defences with me right now.
I don’t want to push too hard in fear she’ll retreat, but the opportunity is too good to pass up. This is what it could be like if she were truly mine. If she’d let me have her out in the open.
I squeeze her hip again, this time with a flurry of quick bursts, earning me a squeal of delight.
Claire turns in my grasp, both her hands securing the one I tickled her with while her eyes blaze.
She tugs at me as she starts to walk backward.
“It was good to see you, Matt. I’ll catch up with you later,” she calls to her friend.
I give him a wink as I willingly follow wherever she leads me.
When we’re far enough away, deep in the crowd, I realise I may have underestimated the easy affection she was giving me.
With narrowed eyes that make my balls retreat, she crosses her arms over her chest.
“Just what the hell was that?”