by Lydia Reeves
“You look good in a suit,” I said with a teasing smile, which startled a laugh out of him.
“If I have my way, this is probably the only time I’ll wear a suit this decade.” His eyes crinkled, and I couldn’t keep myself from smiling back. Upon closer inspection, I realized he wasn’t as flawlessly put-together as I’d first thought. His shirt was open at the collar and his hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through it all evening. Somehow it made the effect even better.
His eyes were bright, and a little wide as he tried to subtly take in my appearance.
“You look incredible,” he said, and his soft voice sent a surprise wave of goosebumps rising all along my skin. Geoff was nothing like the majority of guys I knew—my friends in the city had all been a little rough around the edges, loud and heavily tattooed and quick with a dirty joke. By contrast, Geoff seemed…soft. Sweet. Utterly foreign.
“Thanks,” I managed.
He cleared his throat, and pulled his eyes away from where they’d snagged on my lips. “Here, you can put your coat in the back if you don’t want to carry it. Come with me.”
Gamely, I followed him to the checkout counter, where he raised a hinged panel and held it open for me. With a quick glance around, I slipped through and he guided me back into an office where a small coat rack was hung with what were clearly employee coats.
“Are you sure we can…” I broke off. “Wait, do you work here? I thought you worked in a kitchen. Isn’t that where you cut your arm?” I was confused.
“Both,” he said, gesturing at me to hand him my coat. “Kitchen in the morning, then I run the cafe here after that. I’m not working tonight, though.”
It was warm with the store filled with people, and I slipped the shrug off my shoulders as well, handing it over with my coat. He took them from me, but made no move to hang them on the rack. When I glanced up, I found his eyes locked on my shoulders, and understanding filled me. Honestly, half the time, I forgot I had any tattoos at all.
He clearly found them fascinating though, and I suppressed a smile, waiting for him to ask me about them. But instead of speaking, he slowly took a step toward me, and tentatively raised a hand. My breath stuttered and ground to a halt, and I held utterly still, afraid to make a move and scare him away.
It had been many years since I’d gotten my first visible tattoo, and in that time, I had come to one big realization. People liked to touch tattoos. My artist had warned me of this, but I’d ignored him as surely as I’d ignored the warning that they were addictive. Of course, he’d been right. I don’t know if it was just that people needed proof they were real and wouldn’t wipe away, or if they didn’t even realize they were doing it. But just like pregnant bellies, if a tattoo was visible, you could be sure someone was going to touch it without warning or permission. I didn’t like it, but I’d grown resigned to it.
This was different though. I’d had people grab my arm and pull it close to take a look, or turn my body to see the rest of the design, but Geoff simply reached out a finger, then hesitated, his fingertip a hair’s width away from my shoulder, hovering over my skin until I could almost feel the electric current running between us.
I held my breath, nearly shivering with anticipation as I wondered what it was about this serious, hesitant man that made me welcome a touch that I would have scorned from anyone else. But then my mind went blank when finally, finally, he began to move his hand, his fingertips moving with glacial speed, tracing the artwork that curved over my shoulder and down my arm without ever actually making contact. The anticipation built inside me, tension rising with every second that passed as I waited for the heat and pressure of his touch, until I felt like I might combust.
The touch never came, and I nearly climbed out of my skin when he lowered his hand and took a deep breath, stepping back out of reach.
What was this guy doing to me? I felt like I had just run a marathon.
He glanced slowly up to my face, looking scandalized as he realized what he’d done, and I waited for an awkward apology like the ones he’d delivered at the hospital when he’d made surprised comments about my appearance there.
But to my surprise, none came. Instead he simply held my eyes with his, the same gaze that had held me captive in the ER, and said in a low voice, “Do they cover your whole body?”
I blinked in surprise, and watched as his cheeks reddened, as if he was as surprised by his own forwardness as I was, but he held his ground and didn’t break his gaze.
For a brief second, I imagined letting him figure out the answer to that question himself, and the air left my lungs in a long wheezing trickle, before I pulled myself together. “I still have some blank skin left,” I informed him, sounding much calmer than I felt.
He chuckled, a surprisingly sinful sound, and opened his mouth to respond, but I never got to hear what he was about to say. Instead we were interrupted by a big, harried-looking man with dark hair and dark eyes.
“Geoff, you’ll have to clear out. There’s not enough room for us all to hide out in here, and there’s way too many people in my store. Did you know—” He caught sight of me and broke off. “Oh, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t,” Geoff said, much to my mingled relief and disappointment. “I was just hanging up our coats. You can hide out all you need to.” He finally moved to hang my coat on the closest hook, then gestured at me. “Bria, this is Sam. Sam, Bria.”
I glanced at the big man with interest. “Sam, as in Sam’s Books?”
He nodded. “I’m not sure why I thought a huge party would be a good idea, but thanks for coming.”
Geoff grinned at him, the twisting smile that lit his face and softened his serious eyes. It made my heart stutter. “Because you couldn’t say no to Ellen. Besides, it was a good idea. You’ve sold a ton of books, and your brother is in his element.”
Oh, right, the brother. I wondered if Claire had found him.
“The food is doing quite well, also,” Sam said with a significant look at Geoff, then he glanced at me. “You should try it if you haven’t yet. Bria, was it?” I nodded. “The pastries are amazing.”
Geoff shot his boss a look I couldn’t quite interpret, but the bigger man just laughed. “Oh, calm down. You’re doing great. Have another glass of wine and you’ll make it through the night just fine.”
I looked to Geoff in bewilderment, but he just took my elbow and steered me out of the office and back into the crowd. The noise level increased exponentially and I immediately missed the privacy of the office. And the maddening sensation of his skin notquitebutalmost touching mine.
“Have you been here before?” he asked as we made our way through clusters of milling people.
I shook my head. “I’ve only been living here for about eight months. I’ve been meaning to see more of the town, but I haven’t had the chance yet. Tonight seemed like a good opportunity to check out the store.” I decided to omit the part where Claire had to practically force me to come.
“What do you think?”
“The mural is incredible. I’ll have to come back on a quieter day to check out the books, though.”
Geoff laughed. “So, you aren’t just here to get a signature from Jeremy Whitaker, huh?”
“I didn’t even know who he was before tonight,” I confessed. “But my friend Claire is here for that express purpose.” Though she was probably after more than a signature.
We came to a stop in front of a display of Jeremy’s books. The cover really was striking, a portrait of a beautiful blond woman painted in bold brushstrokes. “Honestly,” I lowered my voice confidentially. “I’m more interested in those desserts Sam was talking about.”
Geoff’s face seemed to get a little red, but it might just have been the heat in the store. He held out an arm though, indicating that I should lead the way toward the food tables lining the back wall. I did, and found myself caught in another cluster of people crowded around the overflowing tab
les.
The food looked amazing, more befitting the window of a French patisserie than a bookstore in Indiana. I took a small plate off the stack at the end and made my way along the table, piling it high with little carefully crafted delicacies. Geoff followed along behind me, but he didn’t say anything or choose anything for himself to eat. I wondered for a moment if he was going to stay with me all evening, and then wondered why the thought not only didn’t bother me, but was actually rather appealing.
We found a relatively quiet spot in the corner where two shelves met and we could hear each other over the din, and I selected one of the desserts on my plate, a relatively innocuous looking circular pastry with a kind of puffy top. I took a bite and felt my eyes roll back.
“My god, have you tried these?”
Geoff was still looking slightly flushed, but he nodded.
“I don’t know what the hell they are, but they’re unbelievable.”
“They’re Kouign-amann,” he told me, his mouth shaping bizarre syllables I’d never heard before.
“I have no idea what you just said, but I could eat fifty of them.”
He smiled. “I’m not surprised. They’re basically just butter and sugar.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, if everything is like this, I’m going to gain fifty pounds tonight.”
“So,” he said, changing the subject as I took a bite of a small, square, layered cake that was every bit as good as whatever I’d just eaten. “You said you just moved here a few months ago. Where did you move from?”
“Chicago,” I said around a mouthful of pastry. “I grew up in Rushton, just an hour or so north of here, but I went to school in Chicago and I’ve been there ever since. What about you?”
“Good old Fairfield, born and raised,” he said with a sarcastic twist to his tone. “What brought you back?”
“My grandmother got sick, and I moved home to help my parents take care of her. She died a couple of months ago, but…” I shrugged. “I guess I’m staying.”
“How come? Did you not like Chicago?”
“Oh, no, I loved it. But…I don’t know. I’m close with my parents, and I guess I don’t want to leave them again. Especially with them getting older. I would have stayed in Rushton, but I found a job here.”
I had demolished the food, and Geoff took the empty plate and set it on a small table nearby. “Must be nice to be close with your parents.”
I’d almost managed to forget who his dad was, but at his tone I looked up, remembering. “You don’t get along with yours, then?” I couldn’t begin to imagine being close to Dr. Asshole, and I wondered what kind of a relationship the two must have. This evening had only reinforced my observation that Geoff seemed nothing like his father. But then again, I only saw the work side of Dr. Ashvale. Maybe he was a different person in his private life.
Geoff gave a stifled sort of laugh at my question. “Not exactly. Do you get along with him? You must know who he is.”
I felt like he was testing me. “Yes, I know. And no, he’s…um. He can be…difficult to work with.”
He smirked at that. “I can imagine. He can be difficult to be related to as well.”
“What about your mom?”
“Oh, she’s in Florida. They’re still married, but they don’t really get along. She doesn’t like the cold, so she spends the winters down south.” He shrugged. “Every year she tries to get my dad to go with her, but he won’t leave the hospital. She doesn’t mind going on her own though. I’m not really sure why they’re still married.”
I wanted to ask more, but just then I felt a slight gust of air as another figure ducked into our little alcove behind the bookshelves. I turned to find a tall, impeccably-dressed and very handsome man clutching a glass of wine in one hand.
“God, Geoff, I’m freaking exhausted,” the stranger said, taking a long swig of wine. “I’ve known most of these people my whole life, you wouldn’t think they’d all need signed copies. I think my hand is going numb!” Suddenly his eyes swiveled to me and his eyebrows raised with interest.
“Well, hello there.”
Chapter 4
GEOFF
I knew Sam’s relationship with his brother was strained, but I’d always found Jeremy to be pleasant enough, if a little bit self-important. Right then though, I wouldn’t have been upset if a meteor had fallen through the ceiling of the store and wiped him out. Not only did he deserve it for interrupting my conversation with Bria, but at least then I wouldn’t have to stand here and watch the way his eyes traveled a slow circuit over her body before landing on her face with undisguised interest.
The way yours did not twenty minutes ago, you mean? my inner voice asked. I told it to shut up.
“Jeremy Whitaker,” he said, holding out a hand to her, which she accepted, and he raised it to his mouth, pressing a kiss onto the back of her hand. Good lord, what was this, a Jane Austen novel? But honestly, what a very Jeremy thing to do.
“Bria Kohler,” she replied, flushing slightly as he lowered her hand but did not let it go.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” he said smoothly, then looked her over. “You have a very distinctive look.”
I watched as the wall slammed down behind her eyes, the same way it had when I’d brought it up the first time we’d met. Her answer was every bit as polite yet emotionless as it had been then. “Thank you.”
Jeremy was not one to be deterred though. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked with someone with such a unique style before. Have you ever had your portrait painted?”
I waited in agony to hear her response, but before I got a chance, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Sam’s girlfriend, Ellen, looking flushed and pretty and entirely in her element.
“Sam’s looking for you,” she told me with a smile. “Apparently you’re out of something chocolatey and he wanted to see if you had any more in the back. I think he’s hiding out in the office again.” Someone tapped her arm on the other side, pulling her away, and I excused myself, grabbing a glass of wine from the bar on my way to the office and covertly slugging half of it back.
Damn Jeremy. I didn’t have any right to be mad at him; he was just being Jeremy. And besides, I hadn’t even talked to Bria for more than half an hour; it wasn’t like I had any claim on her. I should be grateful, I thought, taking a drink of the wine as I wove through the crowd. Between the two of them, I’d barely had any time to freak out over the food.
By the time I reached the office, most of the wine was gone and the careful buzz I’d been maintaining throughout most of the evening was back in full force. Sam took one look at me and laughed.
“Oh man, is it that bad?”
“It’s fine,” I said shortly. “Ellen said something about chocolate?”
“Yeah, we’re out of the chocolate mousse. Is that all there was?”
“Yep, I already put out all I brought. In fact, I don’t think there’s much of anything left in the back at this point.”
Sam leaned back in his office chair, looking pleased. “Well, I think tonight has been a success on all fronts.”
I had to agree. It had been nerve-racking as hell, but I didn’t seem to have poisoned anyone yet, and all the comments I’d overheard had been good.
“People have been raving about your food all evening,” Sam said as if reading my mind. “I told you you could do it.” He paused, then lowered his voice. “Look, I love having you here, man. You keep the cafe running and you probably work as many hours as I do, not that I think that’s a good thing. But…if you ever decide you want to try something else…something for yourself. Something bigger? You know I’d support you completely.”
I felt my throat constrict. Sam was a great boss and probably the closest friend I had, but he wasn’t the most emotional guy. I knew he wanted more for me and I knew he believed in me, but it was still a bit of a shock to hear him say it.
I just nodded and looked down. “Thanks. It was just one event, huh? Let’s not get a
head of ourselves.”
Sam just sighed and changed the subject. “Who was that woman you were in here with earlier? Bria, you said?”
“Yeah. She was my nurse in the ER the other day.”
“Oh yeah? She works with your dad?”
“Apparently. Anyway, I didn’t know she was coming tonight. I was just letting her hang her coat in here.” I glanced toward the coat in question, a dark teal wool coat with carved wooden buttons. Her short black sweater was thrown over top, and just looking at it made me remember her shoulders when she’d taken it off. She had tattoos covering her chest as well—a beautiful geometric piece in the center framed by ornate filigree designs that crawled over her collarbones and up just slightly onto her neck. The filigree had transitioned into floral designs as it ran over her shoulders and down her arms, then back into geometry when it reached her wrists and hands. Aside from her hands and just a bit peeking out of her collar, I hadn’t seen any of it in the hospital—it had all been covered by her scrubs, and I’d tried with everything I had not to stare at her chest when she’d removed her sweater this evening.
Sam started chuckling just as Ellen poked her head in the doorway. “You guys can’t hide out in here all night, it’s—what on earth were you two talking about?” She stepped fully into the room.
Sam smothered his laughter. “Nothing. Geoff was just telling me about his nurse in the ER.”
She turned to me. “She must have been something else, judging by the expression on your face.”
I tried to carefully erase whatever my face was doing without my permission, but it just made Sam snort again.
“Apparently she’s here,” he informed her, not helping my cause at all.
“Oh really? I’d like to meet this—oh no. She was the one I pulled you away from just now, wasn’t she? The one Jeremy was putting the moves on?”
“It’s fine,” I told her. “I only just met her. She can talk to whoever she likes.” I kept my face carefully blank, and only realized I was failing when Sam and Ellen both looked at me with matching expressions of pity. Damn that wine, it was messing with my face.