Without me.
The thought has kept me up for the past two nights. I’ve barely slept, but I’m not tired. Oddly, I’m wide awake and more excited than any man should be to be spending time with a woman. I don’t understand this side of me, it’s new, and I have to admit, when her mesmerizing eyes are locked on mine, I can’t find it in me to care. Instead, I just want more of her. She’s all I can think about, hence the past two nights without sleep.
Pulling in a deep breath, I grab the keys and the flowers lying on the passenger seat and climb out of Joan’s car. I feel like a giant driving this thing, but that’s okay. It brought me to Shayne and is giving me time with her, just the two of us. It could have been the tiniest car on the planet, and I would have driven it with glee.
Approaching the building, I notice that it’s clean, although rundown. When I go to open the door, it’s locked. There is a speaker on the side with only one button. I press it, waiting for her to answer. “Hello,” her sweet voice comes over the speaker.
“Hey, Shayne. It’s me. Ford.”
“I’ll be right down.”
“I can come up,” I offer. I stare down at the flowers. Call me crazy, but I feel like I need to knock on her door and hand her these flowers.
“It’s okay.”
“I have something for you,” I confess into the speaker.
“Uh, okay.” The door buzzes, and when I reach for it, I find it unlocked. Her apartment is on the second floor, and the stairs to lead me there is the first thing I see when I enter. There is another door that has private spelled out in all capital letters. From the sound coming from there, it’s the kitchen of the bar. Needing to see Shayne, I take the stairs two at a time. My intent is that the exertion will help calm my nerves.
It doesn’t.
Standing outside her door, I wipe one hand on my jeans, transfer the flowers and wipe the other the same way. Then I raise my hand to knock. The door immediately pulls open, and I can’t fight the smile that crosses my face. One, her quick answer to the door tells me she was waiting for me. The second reason, that’s all Shayne and her beauty. She stands before me in a flowing top that has one shoulder bare. She’s in a pair of tight jeans, ripped at the knee, and her feet are in these black boots that stop at her ankles. They look uncomfortable as fuck with that heel, but they’re sexy. My eyes roam back over her, and I reach her face. She’s biting on her bottom lip. Reaching out, I tug it free with my thumb.
“You’re gorgeous.”
A blush coats her cheeks. “Thank you. You said Mexican, and it’s casual, so…” Her voice trails off.
“You’re perfect.” My words hold double meaning. Her outfit is perfect, but she’s also perfect for me. Don’t ask me how I know. It’s this feeling deep in my gut.
“Nice flowers.” She nods toward my hands.
“These?” I hold them up, and she nods again. “I thought so too, but now that I’m standing before you, they pale in comparison.” She swallows hard. “These are for you.” I hand them to her.
She takes them eagerly, pulling them to her face and breathing them in. “I need to put them in some water.” She backs up and waits, which tells me I’m being invited inside.
Her apartment is small but clean. Her furniture has seen better days, and that makes me think of how Chad told me that she’s had a rough life. The thought of her being hurt or upset bothers me.
“It’s not much, but it’s home,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. Glancing up at her, I see that the flowers now sit on her small kitchen table.
“It’s cozy.”
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” she starts.
“What are you talking about?”
“Obviously, my place isn’t good enough for you.” The set of her chin is defiant.
“Shayne, what are you talking about?” I don’t move even though I want to pull her into my arms and tell her she’s lost her damn mind. What happened from the time she went to the kitchen to place the flowers in water and now?
“The look on your face. You’re scowling. I knew this was a bad idea.” I cannot only see but feel her walls going up.
Not happening, gorgeous.
In three long strides, I’m standing toe-to-toe with her. My hands cradle either side of her face, and her eyes close. “Look at me.” My voice is soft and soothing. When her eyes don’t open, I try again. “Let me see those beautiful eyes,” I whisper. Slowly, her eyes flutter open, and they’re swimming with tears. “The look on my face has nothing to do with where you live. I was thinking about you, though.”