“Anything I have to try at this cafe?” I ask.
He glances at me, then shakes his head. “Whatever suits your fancy. You don’t have to small talk me when we’re alone.”
“Is that right?” I say. You rude motherfucker.
He glances at me again with a blank expression. “I’m just saying, anytime you leave the house with me, thanks to your friend Scott, we’re gonna have to put on one hell of a show. Might as well save your energy for pretending that you find me so irresistible that you had to come here all the way from?”
“Oh, where am I fictionally from? Is that what you’re asking me?”
“Yeah. You didn’t dream up a backstory for yourself?”
“No. I was sleeping.”
“Well think fast. We’re here.”
I look up and sure enough, Silas stops his truck beside this bright red barn. Hay bales wrapped in plaid fabric and loaded down with little stacks of pumpkins wrap around the exterior. Very cute. Silas puts the truck in park, but leaves it running. The AC has finally picked up. He turns toward me. “What did the baby digital clock say to the mama digital clock?”
“What?”
“It’s a joke. Just go with me here. What did the baby digital clock say to the mama digital clock?”
My eyes want to roll out of my head. “What?”
“Look, Ma. No hands,” he says and then he stares at me with a huge smile. I laugh and before I realize what he’s doing, he leans forward and tries to kiss me. I flinch away, feeling the look of disgust spreading out over my face and then immediately I know my mistake. He smiles even wider, then shakes his head. “No one is gonna buy this. Or they are gonna think you’re really disappointed in the real thing.”
“No. No, you’re right. You just caught me off guard.” I shake my head and let out a deep breath. “I need a cover story. You’re my new boyfriend. I’m totally into you. Okay. Try it again.”
“Just pretend I’m some hot dude you’ve been wanting to make out with for months.” He lightly places his finger under my chin and leans closer again. This time I hold perfectly still, watching his mouth as he inches closer and closer to me. I don’t mean to close my eyes, but they slide shut. Then he kisses me.
His lips are kind of dry, warm and soft, thick enough to compete with my own full lips. I don’t know exactly what he was going for, but neither of us pull back or come up for a moment to assess. I take in the way he smells, that clean manly scent mixed with a half day's hard work, and he doesn't smell bad. He smells so good, like fresh earth and sunshine and uncompromised ethics. Men aren't like this in the city, even the ones who work with their hands. I notice the way his mustache feels against my face. It’s not terrible.
He keeps his mouth pressed to mine and I don’t pull away. His tongue slips against the part in my lips and even then I don’t pull away. I know I should. He’s proven his point. He should be able to kiss me. I’m laying low, and it is a good move to pose as his girlfriend. We should be hot for each other. These supposed months apart should have driven us crazy with anticipation and a certain kind of lust. We should have a hard time keeping our hands off each other. We should be kissing, but I know I, the real me, should not being kissing a man I barely know. I shouldn’t—
I remember the promise I made myself the moment Brooklyn landed her first real job. The words I repeated to myself over and over fight their way to the surface and my chest starts to hurt so badly I pull away. I clear my throat and push that feeling down. I adjust my t-shirt at the shoulders and hide a grimace when my ribs remind me that I’m still kinda fucked up. Then I look over at Silas.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“It was the best kiss I’ve ever experienced,” I tell him, my tone dry.
“Good. I usually try to lead with a tongue thrusting motion, a woodpecker slash jack hammer combination, but I wanted to take it easy on you to start. We’ll save the real sexy stuff for later.”
I turn away to keep him from seeing my smile and climb out of the truck. I don’t get far before he’s already jumped out and run over to my side. Honeycrisp is right behind him, scrambling out of the backseat onto the straw covered parking lot. I grip the side of the pick-up and immediately rip my hand away. It’s five hundred degrees. “Fuck.”
“Careful.” He holds on to my elbow as I rock on my ankle wrong and clutch my newly burnt-to-shit hand to my chest. “You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I look at my palm. It’s red, but it’ll be fine. “I’m okay. It’s just hot.”
“Yeah. Summer will do that. Air is blasting inside. Come on.” This time I go with it when his hand slides down my arm and he laces his fingers with mine. My chest feels too small for my lungs again and I ignore it. Honeycrisp takes up on my other side as we round the truck and follows us towards the door. Suddenly though, she takes off, running behind the building.
“Where’s she going?” I ask as Honeycrisp’s tail disappears around the corner.
“No dogs allowed inside. Well, unless they’re service dogs, but she knows she's not allowed. She’ll go over to the cannery where I'm sure someone will give her some shit she's not supposed to be eating, then she’ll go over to the barns. She's best friends with a few of the lady goats.”
“Oh, she has plans.”
“Yup. After you,” he says as he opens the front door to the cafe for me.
“Thank you.” The place is packed. It's getting close to the end of summer so it makes sense. Gotta keep the kids busy. Still, not what I was expecting. A perky, young White girl with light blue streaks in her black hair pops out of nowhere and almost scares the shit out of me. I'm still on edge.
“Hi! Welcome to McIn— oh, Hi Mr. McInroy,” she says.
“Hey Shelby. Is my table open?”
“Sure is. For two?” she asks, smiling at me.
“Yup. This is my girlfriend, Ebie.”
“Hello, Shelby?” I say, holding out my hand.
“Oh.” She smiles back at me, bobbling the menus in her grip so she can shake my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Who told you?” Silas asks her. Shelby blushes and looks at the back of the open cafe, toward the kitchen area. Whoever ratted us out must be hiding back there.
“Um, Maya came in maybe ten minutes ago. She may have announced it and told us all to play it cool when you and Ebie got here.”
“Well here we are. I'll take those.” Silas takes the menus from her.
“’Kay. Enjoy. And let me know if you need anything,” she says mostly to me.
“Thanks.”
Silas gives my hand a light squeeze to get my attention then leads me over to a small table in the back left corner. Before we get there he pauses at nearly every table along the way, greeting friends and people I assume are regulars, introducing me as his girlfriend. I play along, smiling and greeting people politely, and I don’t bother trying to remember any names. The space isn’t all that huge, but it takes a while to get back to our seats. Silas knows a lot of people, and a lot of people apparently want to meet his new girlfriend.
Finally we get to our table. I take the seat facing the door. He hesitates for a second then takes the chair opposite me. He’ll survive. Besides he's so big…
“How did you know? How'd you know someone told her about us?” I ask when he hands me my menu.
“I’ve known Shelby since she was born. She’s never called me Mr. McInroy a day in her life.”
“I see.”
“What’s so funny?” he asks. I need to stop smiling in front of him.
“Nothing. I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re kind of a dick, but you’re also kinda nice and really polite when you want to be or at least when you're pretending.”
“You think I’m kind of a dick? Considering our circumstances?” He takes off his hat and runs his hand through his hair. I didn't notice before but the dark brown is actually red in some spots. Scott’s hair is so dark. Silas tugs his hat back into place.
�
��You’re—I don’t know the word I’m looking for,” I say.
“I think you found it. You just called me a dick.”
“Okay. I take it back. You’re not a dick. You’re just—different.”
Another girl breezes by the table, dropping off waters, telling us that she’ll be back to get our orders in a moment. I think her name is Ari, and she doesn’t seem interested enough in her boss’s love life to ignore the rest of her tables. Silas seems to be fine with that. I watch him as he opens his menu. I highly doubt he actually needs to look at it. He does own the place. “So, different how?” he says. “Not like the city boys you’re used to?”
“No. Not at all,” I say instead of “What boys?”
“Scott aside, of course. We know he's a prince.”
I look down at the table and lower my voice, but make sure I’m clear.“Listen, let’s not talk about him. Okay?”
He sits back, his hands up in mock surrender. “Completely fair. He’s not my favorite topic of conversation anyway.”
“And I respect that. Family stuff can be hard. I have a little sister. I love her, but she can drive me crazy. I don’t know what the beef is there with you and him, and you don’t have to explain it, but Scott is literally the only person who hasn’t been shitty to me on the job. And he really helped me out with this whole… situation. I know that doesn’t change what happened between you two. I just can’t cosign shit talking him. Not right now.”
“Absolutely fair. I’m sorry.”
I look at him for a long moment. I wasn’t expecting an apology or for it to sound so sincere. He stares back at me and then he reaches across the table. I swallow, but don't flinch this time when he gently takes my hand. I watch him carefully as he leans a little closer and turns my hand over. He traces his fingertips along the bruise there. He leans forward and kisses the spot, not once or twice. I swallow again and ignore the heat that's rushing over my face.
“You're making me pay for Scott springing this on you, aren’t you?” I say.
“Is this bad for you? Just tell me. Pretend you're enjoying this,” he says with a wink as one of the waitresses walks close to our table. That stupid fucking wink makes me smile again. A half smile. Not a whole one. I can't give him that.
“No, it's not bad. It’s just strange. Why are you being so extra? Jesus!” I yelp when he nips my skin. A few people look over at us, and they are all smiles, looking at the sweet couple. So in love.
“Well as soon as I drop you back at the house we can drop this whole charade. For the rest of the day. But in the meantime, if you were my girl, if I'd been waiting three months to see you, my hand would be under the table.”
A little voice in the back of my head tells me that I need to tell Silas to stop. He’s being inappropriate as fuck. He’s out of line. He’s rude. I know I should tell him to give me my damn hand back so I can look at the menu. For some reason I don't. I don't know if there's something about the look on my face or if my eyes give me away, or if he’s just being a dick, because he doesn’t stop. He turns my hand over and runs his lips along my knuckles.
“If you were really my girl, I’d blow off the rest of my day and take you out to the East orchard. Bring a nice blanket with us—”
“Oh you wouldn’t take me to the barn where they keep the petting zoo animals? I’ve heard wild things about barn sex.”
“Pssht, hell no. I’d take you to the East orchard. You’ve never been inside a real barn, have you?”
“That’s a definite no.”
“You don’t want me to fuck you in a barn. It’s like fucking on the beach. Romantic in theory, but not in practice. You don’t want that,” he says with a little shake of his head.
“Oh really? But an open field?”
“I didn’t say anything about an open field. I said the East orchard.”
“Uh huh, yeah. Cool, cool. Go on.” He finally lets go of my hand. I open my menu to the lunch section, then sit back with my hands in my lap so he won’t be tempted to keep messing with me.
“I’d take you out to the East orchard and test if those yoga pants have gotten any real practical use—Hey man.” Silas stands suddenly. I look up as a White guy with an apron tied around his waist comes walking up to our table. He’s pretty large. Attractive too with dark hair and a thick, dark beard tinted with red. I file it away, deep away, that I think Silas is more attractive. It doesn’t matter.
“I had to come see for myself,” he says with the thickest Scottish accent I've ever heard.
“Ebie, this is my cousin, Mason.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say with a smile. He doesn’t smile. He just stares at me for a second, his mouth hanging open.
“Dude,” Silas says.
“Sorry. I—I have quite a few questions. A few dozen actually.”
“Questions like what?” I ask, my tone going icy.
“Oh no, lass.” Mason shakes his head and puts up his hands in the same stance of surrender that Silas shot me a few minutes earlier. “It’s not you. It’s this guy.”
I relax a bit. “Oh? What’s wrong with him? What don’t I know?”
“Yeah. Please enlighten us,” Silas says.
“So!” Mason clasps his hands in front of his chest and looks back at me. “Would you like to hear about our specials today?”
“Actually I was hoping to get a simple grilled cheese,” I say, trying not to laugh at the look Silas is giving his cousin. Overdramatic faux shock isn’t usually my thing, but on him… I have to look away.
“I’ll do you one better. How do you feel about a nice thick-cut smoked bacon and fresh tomatoes?”
“I do like bacon.”
“Then you’ve got one hell of a melt coming your way. And what can I get for you, you shiftless lying bum?” he says to Silas.
“I’ll have what she’s having,” he replies as he takes his seat again.
“Yeah. I bet. I’ll have your melts out to you in a bit. Nice to meet you, Ebie darling,” Mason says with a little chuckle before he heads back into the kitchen.
“Mason and I are pretty close,” Silas says when his cousin is out of earshot. “He’s pissed I didn’t tell him about you when we started dating.”
“I thought this was a good cover, but now I’m not so sure,” I say quietly.
“Is it stupid as hell? Yes, but from what you told me I do want to keep an eye on you, and I am completely honest when I say that there is no other reason on Earth for me to have a woman glued to my side. Fake girlfriend is a good cover. Hopefully Scott can get some answers soon and you can go back home. In the meantime, just relax.”
“I’m not sure that I can. Or maybe I feel like I shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“I basically ran away. I wanted to get out of the city and I definitely wasn’t feeling comfortable in my apartment, but now…”
“Now what?”
I look him straight in the eye and tell him the truth. “I feel like a coward and even though you’re kind of a dick, I do feel safe with you. And that’s making me feel guilty.”
He looks at me for a few long moments, not saying anything. I’m not looking to explore this shit any further so his silence doesn’t bother me, but the way he’s looking at me does. I feel guilty for leaving my sister and my friends behind to worry about me. I feel shitty for not being strong enough to stay and take care of my own apartment. I shouldn’t have left Scott to deal with it, even if he passed it off to some housesitter looking to make a few extra bucks. I feel terrible for sleeping as hard as I did when I have no idea if Dorrit is going to try to get to me again. Some awful, shitty part of me feels like I’m doing every part of this wrong. Especially the part where I just want to enjoy a nice lunch with Silas McInroy.
“Can I tell you something and ask you not to be offended?” he says.
“Uh, sure. With that caveat, give it a shot.”
“I have no idea what you’re feeling guilty about, but guilt is a stupid thing. You needed help.
You still need help. I’m trying to help you and I’m telling you to just fucking relax. Nothing is going to happen to you here.”
“You know what?” I take a deep breath and look at the ceiling. If anyone is looking at us now, my body language is giving me all away. I resist the urge to suck my teeth and look back at Silas. “Let’s not talk about that either.”
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“Since we’re all playing along, what would you want to tell your new girlfriend her first time visiting your cafe?”
“Hmm, that’s a good question. I’d tell you that I’m exhausted. I’d tell you that I was afraid our peach crop was going to go to shit this year, but it looks like it’s turning out fine.”
“You guys have peaches here too?”
“You partial to peaches?”
“Watch it,” I say.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. We have a variety of fruits that we harvest six to seven months of the year. They are also available for our patrons to pick. Our peaches and blueberries are good to go now, and a few varieties of apples should be ready in a few days.”
“Interesting,” I say. “Do you have a favorite?”
“Fruit?”
“Yeah.”
“I am partial to peaches,” he says, running his tongue along the inside of his upper lip.
I roll my eyes. “I can tell why you’re single.”
“Why?” he says, laughing.
“’Cause you’re corny as fuck.” And I hate to admit how much I like it.
Seven
Mason delivers on lunch. The bacon tomato melt is exactly what I need. The peach pie Silas and I split is the icing on the cake, so to speak. I am completely satisfied and full by the time Silas takes care of the check.
“You pay at your own restaurant?” I ask as he stands and holds his hand out for me. Surprisingly I take it without hesitating. I try to ignore how easy accepting his touch has become in just a few short hours.
SANCTUARY: Beards & Bondage Page 7