by K. A Knight
“Sure thing, miss, and for you, sir?” he inquires. At least his eyes don’t linger on her or I would have to kill him.
Joking…sort of.
“Coffee, black, and a sausage and bacon sandwich with red sauce please,” I order, and he nods, tapping the till before smiling at us.
“Great, that’s just £15 please.”
I dig out my wallet and hand over the money, and he passes me a little flap with the number ten on it. I take it and steer Scarlett to the small, two person table at the back corner, my usual. I pull out the chair with the back to the door for her and she slides in, and then I scoot it under, placing the flag on the table before taking the seat opposite her with my back to the wall so I can watch the door and her.
“What classes do you have today?” I ask, wanting to know more about her university work.
She lights up, even perking up in her seat, and leans towards me with excitement coursing through her beautiful eyes. “Just design lab today, we work on our projects for the year.”
“What kind of projects?” I question, wanting to know.
“Well, we’re given four briefs throughout the year. The brief at the moment was for either an album cover or book cover. I picked book cover, a thriller to be exact. So, we have to make it all. I decided to design my own typography for it and use my own copyright images, as well as painting and rendering so it’s taking a while. I can’t seem to get his arm right, but I will, if only my bloody laptop at home ran the software I could spend more time on it instead of only in the labs at university…” She trails off.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble, I’m sure you don’t care,” she says sadly, glancing down at the table, her eyes dimming, and I see red. Some idiot has done this to her, not listening to her and curbing her when she got excited about the things she loves. Someone put doubt there for talking about the thing she enjoys and I hate that. Who wouldn’t want to watch her light up as she talks? You can taste the excitement in her voice, see it in her eyes, and know she loves her work. Why wouldn’t you want that if you love her?
“Don’t ever say sorry for being excited about what you love or what you do. Tell me everything, even if it’s a rant about colours or software, I want to know it all or I wouldn’t have asked. I want to know.” She looks up then, and I reach across the table and lay my hand on hers. “I will always listen. I could listen to anything you say, but watching you when you’re excited? I can feel your love for design and what you love, I want to as well, so tell me.” Her eyes slowly light back up and she flips her hand over, squeezing mine as our eyes stay locked.
A throat clearing breaks the moment and I blink and pull away, sitting back in my chair and looking over at the smiling server as he holds our drinks. “Tea and a coffee, food won’t be long,” he chirps, before walking away.
I look back at Scarlett to see her putting some sugar in her tea, her touch lingering on my hand. “What made you want to study design? Is that what you want to do?”
“I think so, or be an art director, but I enjoy designing,” she replies, licking the spoon clean and making my cock turn rock-hard in my trousers without her even meaning to. “I’ve always enjoyed it. I painted a lot when I was younger, it was my escape, I guess. Then, at school, I took design. I loved the different kinds, working with my hands and then mixing mediums so paint and technology combined, it was amazing. So, when the choice came for college, I picked it for my degree, it’s probably not the smartest choice, but I enjoy it. It’s how I lose myself. When I’m designing, everything else just fades away. No worries, no stress, well, apart from projects, just me and my work. I pour everything into it.” She shrugs then, smiling again. “It’s my passion.”
“That’s amazing, Scarlett, I mean it. Don’t ever feel bad for following your passion. Everyone needs one,” I assure her, and she nods, sitting back and looking at me.
“What’s yours?” she inquires innocently.
I swallow, but the food turns up, so while she’s looking away, I let my reply slip free. “You,” I whisper. She doesn’t hear, but it makes me feel better to admit it.
“Yum, this looks delicious, thank you for bringing me here, Max,” she murmurs, starting to eat her omelette.
I nod, tucking in as well, and the rest of breakfast passes quickly. We talk and eat, flirting and not caring, just two people out on a breakfast date. It’s nice, really nice, and I find myself wanting to do this every day for the rest of my life.
“See you after,” she says before slipping from the car.
I watch her go, frowning when I spot the guy from the other day waiting for her. She ignores him completely, which makes me feel better, but he falls into step with her, looking back at me with a smirk as they disappear around the corner. My hands tighten on the wheel, but I force a breath out. I’ll ask her about him later. First, I need to go shopping.
I groan, I fucking hate shopping, but I’ll do it for her. She deserves the world, so I can at least get a new fucking bag…for now…the rest will come later. I head to the other side of town, cursing everyone out for driving slowly, and park in the multistorey opposite the shopping center.
I head inside, going straight for the handbag store on the second level. I don’t really know what she needs, but I bet she won’t be picky, and she can choose her own next time. When I enter, the shop assistant glances at me quickly. One handbag style is displayed in glass counters everywhere—seems fucking stupid, but hey. I head over to him.
“Good morning, sir, may I help you?” He eyes my clothes doubtfully, obviously wondering if I can afford the bags in here, I almost smirk. If he only knew I could buy the whole bloody shopping center, or even the town, he wouldn’t be looking down his nose at me, but I don’t care. I don’t brag about money, it’s just another means to an end for me, and right now that means is making my girl happy and spoiling her if she will let me.
“I need a bag for my girlfriend, for school, it has to be big enough to carry her books and laptop.” I shrug.
“May I suggest a backpack? They are in style, and we have quite a few designs and colours,” he proposes, leading me over to the left well and pointing them out. I scan the selection, and then realise I never asked her favourite colour. I like the yellow, it reminds me of her. Sunshine to my rain, but I quickly pull out my phone, ignoring the guy explaining seasons, and text her.
Me: What’s your favourite colour?
Scarlett: Blue, like your eyes.
Her reply is instant and I almost smile—fucking woman.
I look across the row, pocketing my phone, and spot a blue backpack. “That one, the yellow one too,” I add as an afterthought.
“Very good, sir, do you need matching purses?” He shows them to me on the bottom and I shrug.
“Sure.”
He smiles widely. “Excellent, let me grab those for you, if you would please wait at the till. How do you plan on paying, sir?” he asks, hinting at wanting to make sure I have enough money.
I simply open my wallet and flash my black card and his eyes light up. “Of course, sir, one minute,” he blurts out, almost red from glee at the sale.
I wander around as I wait for him, and something flashing light in the corner catches my eye, so I lumber over. Picking up a phone case, I grin. It’s all sparkles, probably real diamonds or some shit, but it makes me think of her, the way she sparkles when she talks, the way she glows. I take it to the till and wait for the man to return from the back. Leaning on the clear glass, I tug on my beard as my phone buzzes. I pull it from my back pocket and check to see a message from her.
Scarlett: Yours?
Me: Yellow, the colour of your hair.
I pocket it again, hearing the man heading my way with quick, light steps. He rounds the corner holding two large bags. He places them on the counter, shows me the bags and purses inside, and I nod. “This too.” I jerk my head at the case and his eyes widen in glee.
“Yes, sir,” he gushes, handling the case delicately a
nd placing it in a box with velvet and ribbon before adding it to my bags. “This is your total, sir.” He points at the screen as my phone vibrates again.
I wave it away, passing him the card, not caring, and pull out my phone as he deals with it.
Scarlett: Cheese ball, what do you think? Does his arm look weird?
A picture comes through then of a section of what looks like a photograph. I analyse it before replying.
Me: Not to me, the untrained eye, I like the colours and blood.
Another photograph comes in then and I glance up to check the man’s progress before looking.
It’s of the full cover and I look at it before grinning. She has a really good eye, it looks like something you would see on the USA best seller list.
Me: I love it, looks like a bestseller, I like the colours and use of shadows. One suggestion? I add, hoping she doesn’t get angry, but I don’t know why I worried, her text comes back instantly.
Scarlett: God, yes, tell me please, I keep staring at it, something’s wrong. :(
Me: The blood. If he was holding the knife, there would be more on his hand and dripping from the blade, maybe some splatter on his face from being close if he actually killed someone.
Scarlett: You’re a bloody genius, Max, that’s what’s missing!
I laugh and a kissing emoji comes through. I leave her to her design and pocket my phone as the man slides a receipt across for me to sign. I do and slide it back. He gives me another and my card.
“She’s a very lucky girl, sir,” he comments as I take the bags.
“Nope, I’m the lucky one,” I correct, nodding as I turn to leave.
Under his breath, I hear him mutter, “All the good ones are straight, I need me a sugar daddy,” and I almost laugh as I leave the store.
I locate a map on a screen outside and scan it for the electronics shop. I find one on the fourth floor, so I head to the escalators and go straight there, wanting to get these back to my place before I pick her up. I stroll into the overly loud store and locate the first man in a purple uniform. “Excuse me?” I call, and he turns to me, smiling already.
“Hello, sir, can I help you?” he asks, his name tag proudly telling me he’s happy to help and called Jim.
“Yes, I need the best laptop for designing, money isn’t a factor, I want the top brand and design,” I reel off.
His eyes widen but he nods rapidly. “Of course, sir, any in mind?”
“No, it’s not for me,” I reply.
“Okay, this way. Now, when you say design, what exactly do you mean?”
“Painting, book covers, shit, design.” I shrug.
“Okay, I have three in mind, let me show you. They all have similar specs and handle design software well without slowing down. They also have built-in graphics card and tablet mode, which are good for designers, and a long battery life. Here we go.” He nods at the three he has led me to.
I eye them, noting the brands. I know a bit about computers, but not as much as some. “That one.” I nod, knowing it’s the best brand.
“Very well, sir, anything else? Do you have the software already?” he questions, excited.
“No, get me everything she will need. What’s that?” I nod at what looks like a silver tablet next to it.
“Oh, it’s a design pad, sir, there is a better one over here.”
“That too, whatever she would need, I want it, all the accessories too and a bag to carry it all in…a printer as well.” I rack my brain for anything else, but I think that will do it for now, I can always come back.
“I will get that for you, sir, please wait here,” he offers, before moving away and talking into his radio, reeling of brands and numbers. He comes back after a couple of minutes. “Okay, they are bringing that all up, sir. What kind of case does she want?”
“A blue one,” I say.
He nods, leading me over to them and pointing out what the laptop will fit in. “That one.” I nod to the blue and white marble one, it’s the girliest.
“Very good.” He grabs it and leads me over to a computer at the end of the row. “Okay, sir…” He starts tapping, adding it all to the screen as boxes are carefully dropped at his feet by another worker, the pile slowly growing. “Do you need insurance and coverage?” he asks.
“Yes, all,” I reply, pulling out my wallet.
He takes a couple more minutes. “Cash or card sir?”
“Card,” I answer, and he pushes the machine to me.
I insert my card and my pin before it tells me it’s approved, and then I pull it out. He gathers the receipts and paper back, and puts them into a wallet before bagging what he can of the boxes. “Need help to your car, sir?” he offers, and I look at the huge pile and nod. “Please.”
He motions for another man, and they grab the boxes and follow me out of the other exit leading to the car park and to my car. I unlock it and they place it in the back before thanking me and leaving. I add my bags and then slide into the car, checking my texts, hoping there’s one from her, but there isn’t.
I’ll take this stuff to my house and give it to her tonight, so I quickly text her.
Me: Tea with me tonight before work?
She replies instantly.
Scarlett: Love to.
I grin, before slipping my phone into the console and turning on the ignition, counting down the hours until I can see her again.
Chapter Fourteen
Scarlett
I’m waiting in the car park before Max today. He pulls up not a minute later, and I hurry over to the Jeep and open the passenger door. Holding my broken bag together, I hop in and shut the door behind me.
“You were right, the blood made it so much better!” I almost shout, my smile huge.
He grins at me, passing over a takeout cup of tea like always. “That’s great, it really was amazing.”
“Thank you.” I almost preen. I loved sharing my work with him and he definitely boosted my confidence.
He pulls away and then glances over at me as I sip my tea. “I thought we could go to my place for something to eat before work,” he suggests.
I nod instantly. “Sounds good.” While he’s driving, I steal looks at him.
Neither of us has said anything about last night, but there’s a new tension between us now, an electricity snapping at our skin, trying to pull us together, and I catch him throwing me lingering glances, his eyes filled with heat and knowing. A time bomb waiting to explode. There’s no going back, not anymore, and I don’t want to. He’s so controlled, so rigid and scheduled, that seeing him lose control is addicting. I want to see it in person, but I can wait for that day to come.
“Does our age difference bother you?” I ask randomly, wondering if that’s one of the reasons he feels he has to hold back.
He glances at me, but answers, “No, does it bother you?”
“No, I didn’t even think about it, to be honest,” I admit, and I see his lips quirk up in a smile.
I sip my tea and stare out of the window. “What did you do today?”
“I went shopping,” he replies, reaching to change gears. He leaves his hand there, and like always, I trace the tattoos on his fingers with my eyes, my mind running rampant with images of his hands pressed to my skin, the ink so dark against my pale flesh.
“Buy anything nice?” I inquire, almost distracted.
“Guess you’ll have to see,” is all he says with a wink.
I turn on the radio then and hum along to the songs, and before I know it, we’re pulling up into his driveway. He grabs my bag before I can, so I slide out and follow him to the door. He unlocks it, and an excited Milo barks and runs towards us from the other side. I crouch in the entrance, kissing him and talking. When I look up, I spot Max watching us with a strange look. I tilt my head in question, but he seems to shake it off.
“Come on, Scarlett, I have something for you,” he says huskily. I kiss Milo and stand up, shut the door behind me, and follow him to the kitch
en, his broad back blocking my view.
“You have something for me?” I repeat, confused.
He moves into the room and I stand in the entryway, gawking at the table. I thought he meant food, but no, on the top is a whole bunch of bags and boxes, so many that I don’t even know where to look first. I spot a new laptop, printer, bag, tablet, painting pad, and two Coach bags, and when I peek inside, I see handbags and purses and something shiny, so I step back, not wanting to touch them.
“What is this?” I ask in shock, swinging my gaze to his.
He shrugs. “You needed a new bag, I couldn’t pick one, so I got both. You said you wished you could work at home, so I got you a laptop and whatever else you could need—consider it me supporting a budding artist. You’re going far, Scarlett, and I want to be behind you all the way.”
“Max, I can’t take these,” I reply, teary-eyed and overwhelmed. “I can’t pay you back,” I whisper, ashamed.
“I don’t expect you to pay me back, they are gifts, so of course you can and you will take them.” He shrugs like that’s that. “I got the yellow bag as well, hope that’s okay, the laptop has all the software you need…” He keeps talking, but I just stare at him, beyond shocked. This man, without being asked or forced, looked at issues I had—some I hadn’t even mentioned—and went out and solved them, and now he’s acting like it’s no big deal.
“No one has ever given me a present before,” I admit, and his mouth drops open in shock, but then he seems to recover.
“Me too, actually. I want you to have them and I know you probably don’t want to take the computer and all that home, so I figured you could use them here. Whenever you want of course,” he offers, sticking his hands in his pockets. Why does he always do that?
I walk towards him and press myself against his chest. He freezes and his eyes flash in surprise before turning molten. “Thank you, Max, what you’ve done for me is amazing. I didn’t need the gifts for a reason to come over here, but I’ll take them. You’re an amazing man, Max Hunt,” I whisper, before going up on my tiptoes and kissing his cheek, as near his mouth as I dare, before sliding back to my feet. “I’m so lucky to have met you.”