Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
APOLOGY PIZZA
My shoes are off before the door’s even shut behind me.
“Dead,” I call out, already moving toward the couch.
“Corpses don’t announce themselves.”
“This one does.”
I drop onto the cushions face-first.
Casey appears from somewhere, wraps a hand around each of my ankles, and tugs.
I roll over and squint at him.
“What are you doing?”
“You said your feet were killing you literally fourteen times on the way back.”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
“It is not even slightly an exaggeration.”
He sits down and pulls my feet into his lap with the air of someone who has made a decision.
“Casey, you really don’t have to—”
“I know.”
His thumb finds the arch of my left foot and digs in.
My eyes close and my head tips back, and I let out a groan that would put my best fake orgasm to shame.
“Oh my God.”
Casey nearly chokes.
I clap a hand over my mouth.
We stare at each other.
Then we both burst out laughing.
“Jesus Christ, Kallie.”
“In my defense, that felt amazing.”
“I gathered.”
Casey’s fingers glide over the sole of my foot and I go completely slack, like every tendon in my body just quietly gave up. The moan that escapes me… is downright pornographic. I’m not even sorry.
He laughs, but the sound is all gravel and shaky breath, like I’m not the only one barely holding it together. His thumb circles a spot on my heel that makes me see actual stars.
“God, don’t stop,” I say, the words coming out loose and unguarded.
“Yeah, I picked up on that.” His voice is low.
“Okay, okay,” I finally say, unable to take the too-pleasurable torture any longer. “Mercy, Casey.”
His low chuckle fills the small apartment. He untangles himself from my legs and heads to the kitchen.
“Do you want anything?” he calls, his voice bouncing off the walls of our tiny apartment.
“Just water for now, thanks. The dogs completely wore me out on our walk today.”
He makes a sound of agreement as he moves around in the kitchen. “That’s for sure. I thought Hank was going to take off with you, but turns out Sir Wigglebutt has been secretly working out.”
The memory makes me snort. “He definitely pulls the most. Poor guy needs more mental stimulation, but good luck telling the family that.”
Casey pours me a glass of water and hands it to me before returning to his position on the couch.
I glance at the two little flowers resting in a glass on the coffee table, the daisies missing a few petals from wilting slowly, and my lips stretch in a wistful smile.
Even though he still hasn’t told me his name, I keep running into the Stud Muffin, and I’m not entirely sure it’s by chance.
It should scare me, but he’s been so adorably awkward about it, and I mean, c’mon. He leaves me flowers every time we bump into each other…
Well, except when he knocked at the door. He didn’t leave a flower then. In fact, he was acting stranger than normal.
Picking up the glass, I inhale deeply, taking in the light, crisp floral scent mixed with Casey’s cologne, which instantly makes me feel more settled.
The scent of daisies always brings me back to my grandmother’s garden, to her calling me ‘Little Daisy’ because of the birthmark over my heart.
She’d said the mark would guide me to true love, but lately, it feels more like a magnet for trouble.
The pizza man, the cop, the attack… A chill works its way up my spine.
Something is coming, and the feeling is less like destiny and more like a threat.
But Casey’s cologne? That smells like home. He’s been my rock since my grandmother’s passing, building a safe haven for us here when I had no family left. The thought of losing him in any way is too much to even fathom, and the scent of him settles me more than anything.
A fact that was proven, very loudly, this morning in the shower.
I open one eye, peering at him through my lashes.
His focus is on the TV, remote in hand as he flips through the channels.
His jaw has a bit of stubble, giving him a more roguish look. He didn’t shave this morning, and the dark circles under his eyes are gone.
His glasses though? They’re sitting on his nose, crooked as always.
“You seem like you’re feeling better than this morning.”
He nods, his eyes taking on that glazed look again before clearing.
“Yeah. Much. I’m not sure exactly what got into me. How are you feeling after… everything last night, and this morning?”
His eyes flick down to the flowers on the coffee table, and he frowns. But he doesn’t say anything.
“Well, I certainly could use a few days off,” I say, exhaustion creeping in my bones. It’s been an interesting few days between work and walking the energetic furballs, and well, everything else. “I think I’m due a brain break.”
He agrees, his eyes flicking back to my face with a pensive look, but then turns his attention back to the TV.
We fall into a companionable silence as we watch whatever mindless action movie he put on.
We’re about halfway through the movie when Casey’s phone buzzes on the coffee table, and he picks it up to see who’s texting.
He lets out a sigh that turns into a tired growl as he rubs his hand down his face.
“It’s the shop. They want to know if I can come in for a couple of hours for an emergency repair.” He says it as a statement, but looks at me as if asking permission.
“You gonna be okay here by yourself if I go?”
The question kinda rubs my feathers the wrong way, but the earnest look he gives me tells me he’s genuinely concerned and I deflate.
“Yeah, I’m good. I’ll take another nap, I think.”
He nods, getting up to get ready to leave and part of me wishes he wouldn’t. But I don’t say anything because I know he needs the money as much as I do.
He hesitates though, as if he can see the words I don’t say aloud, leaning towards me, emotion flickering through his gaze.
Tension builds between us, taut and heavy. I find myself leaning toward him instinctively, as if he’s a magnet and my body has forgotten it isn’t made of metal.
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry, and his gaze drops to them, before coming back to my eyes.
I can see his intentions before he acts, the look in his hazel eyes sharpening to something focused and intent, as he leans closer, the warmth and scent of him enveloping me and making me feel like I might combust at any moment.
I’ve never let myself feel this way around him, but with my walls crumbling after everything that’s happened, it suddenly feels right.
His breath fans over my lips, and mine part to sip it in.
All this time I’ve pushed him away, but now the lines are blurring, and I can’t remember why I ever drew them.
I don’t care why. I just want to claim this, to claim him.
I can feel, rather than see, his arm reach out beside me, and I think he’s going to grab me and drag me closer still, but suddenly the tension snaps, the sound of the TV coming back in a rush, like a balloon around us popped.
Casey leans to the side of me to grab the sweater resting on the back of the couch behind me, then leans in and kisses my cheek, whispering, “I’m just a phone call away if you need me, Kal.”
The intention behind the words is clear, the reminder of how helpful he was this morning making my entire body grow warm, taut, needy. And I almost grab him to tell him to stay. Almost. But I don’t.
The door clicks shut, and the room suddenly feels a few degrees cooler, like a cloud passing over the sun.
Except for the spot where he kissed my cheek. That feels warm, the heat lingering long after I hear the door close behind him.
I lay on the couch a while longer after he leaves, staring at nothing and not really watching the TV, pondering my conflicting emotions, and his conflicting signals, until my eyes go heavy. Right as I’m about to drift off into sleep, the doorbell rings, startling me awake.
“No rest for the wicked,” I grumble, dragging myself to my feet. Exhaustion clings to me like wet clothes. “If this is a salesperson, I swear…” I mutter, moving to the peephole, in no mood for more peopling today.
But I’m not prepared for the sight on the other end. Broody, hair so light it looks white, eyes reflecting a dark navy blue… there’s only one person who fits that description.
And he shouldn’t be here.
As I’m flicking the lock over and turning the handle, a thought hits me, sending an icy shiver down my spine.
“How did you know where I live?” I ask in lieu of a greeting.
His dashing smile falters slightly but he recovers quickly. “Well, hello to you too, Daisy Love.”
“Don’t ‘Daisy Love’ me.” I wag my finger in his face. “How is it that I don’t even know your name and yet you know where I live? How—Why are you here?”
His grin turns sheepish as he holds up a pizza box I’m only now noticing, practically thrusting it into my arms. He brought me pizza.
My stomach rumbles in betrayal.
I level a glare on him as the delicious scent of spicy chicken pizza hits my nostrils.
“For starters, my name is Stark Livingburn.” He runs a hand through his hair. “And I’ll admit. I might’ve peeked inside your bag for the address on your ID. I wanted to apologize for what happened last night.”
He holds out my messenger bag in front of him, like a peace offering. I’m relieved he returned my bag but also half horrified that he looked inside of it.
“What happened last night?” I ask, my voice a whisper.
Stark clears his throat. “Ah, some thugs thought they could steal from me. When I saw your friend, I didn’t realize he wasn’t one of them until it was too late.”
“That doesn’t explain the red eyes and…” my voice catches on the word. “Fangs.”
His gaze turns serious as he opens his mouth, hesitates, then shuts it again. The silence stretches into a taut string that threatens to snap.
When he finally speaks, his voice is low and measured.
“According to the, ah, police, they were doped up on some… uh… new drug. One they’re trying to keep off the streets.”
I blink at him. “So, you’re saying they were… on drugs?”
Right. The ‘drugs’ excuse. He might as well have said they were aliens.
“Um, want to let me in so I can properly apologize?” Stark shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels, trying, but failing, to appear nonchalant. Is he… embarrassed?
Weird.
How the tables have turned.
Pizza man, Stark, doesn’t seem so dangerous standing there in the hallway with a sheepish half smile on his lips. He’s almost, sort of, endearing really. And handsome. Definitely still crazy attractive.
I hesitate though, Casey’s theory and the way he had grabbed him by the throat with what seemed like superhuman strength playing in my mind. Casey would be furious if he knew I’d let the man who choked him into our apartment.
“You know what? I think the pizza and returning my bag is enough of an apology. Thank you very much, Stark. I appreciate the gesture. Have a good even—” I try to close the door while talking, but Stark shoots out a hand to stop it from closing completely and takes a step closer.
Not close enough that we’re touching, but to where I can see the little blue flecks in his dark eyes. They seem eerily similar to the trench coat cop’s. Are they related?
“Say my name again, Daisy Love,” he says, voice dropping low on the last word, and something loosens in my chest, warmth spreading outward until my fingers feel heavy with it.
“Stark,” I whisper, like the fool I turn into when he’s around.
My resolve completely disappears.
Why does he have that effect on me every time he’s close by?
Why do I like it?
“Let me in, Daisy, and I’ll answer any question you have.” His voice is deep and low, and I feel it more than hear it, somewhere low in my belly. Funny warm things I don’t entirely dislike.
“You’ll explain everything? Even the… strange things?
” I’m still staring at his face, at how his jaw has a short layer of stubble covering it, how his lips look red and plump, how when he smirks, a dimple appears on his cheek.
The scent of warm gooey vanilla fills my nose and warms my insides, making my head feel cottony.
“Everything you want to know. I know you’ve been wondering. Seen… things. Let me in so I can explain better and even show you…” His voice takes on a bit of a growl at the end of the sentence and another shiver rolls down my back. My legs have all the stability of noodles.
“I…” I pause, the idea of spending more time with him suddenly sounding perfect. My hand falls from the door and I take an involuntary step back, widening the opening as I hold his gaze. His pupils contract and his nostrils flare. “Would you like to…”
And that’s when my phone rings from the coffee table, making me jump.
I clear my throat and blink rapidly, realizing I’m still holding a pizza box in my one hand and my messenger bag slung over the other.
“I, uh, gotta go.” And then I slam the door in Stark’s face.
I faintly hear him curse through the door, but my phone is still ringing, so I drop the pizza on the coffee table and my bag on the floor. I answer on the fourth ring.
“H-hello?” I still sound breathy, my heart still beating fast.
“Don’t ever invite a stranger into your house, no matter how charming he may seem,” a gruff voice says on the other end. The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. My hand, still on the doorknob, starts to shake. He knew. He knew what I was about to do.
“Who is this?” I pull the phone away briefly to check the number, but it says blocked caller.
That’s odd. How did he know to call right then?
“Do not extend an invitation to anyone into your house. You hear me?” And the line just goes dead.
Well, fuck a duck. My day just keeps getting weirder and weirder.
I go check through the peephole to see if Stark is still out there, but there’s no sign of him.
A strange disappointment settles in my chest. I should be terrified by that warning, by the fact that someone is watching me closely enough to call at that exact second. But all I can think about is Stark, and the way he still calls me Daisy, even after reading my name on my ID.