“Shit,” he cursed, pulling me to the side and away from any prying eyes. For some reason, I let him. The heat from his massive hand was still there as everything started to turn blurry.
Oynx’ long legs didn’t stop until I was suddenly sitting in the passenger seat of his massive white truck.
“Talk me, snowflake, what happened?” He reached over to get me a napkin. I wasn’t so upset I didn’t take the moment to breathe him in and let the scent of pine and man fill my lungs. “Talk to me, sweets,” he ordered, dabbing the tears off my face with the gentlest featherlight touch. I sniffled and froze.
“Snowflake? Sweets?” I repeated. He stared at me. “Did you hit your head when I opened the?—“
“Cut the crap, Candy. Why are you crying?” There was the charming, bossy brewery owner I’d grown to know and love.
Love.No. I hardly knew the guy.
“Nothing,” I denied. He didn’t want to hear about it. “I just… it’s been a long day.” I shrugged, and the semi-permanent scowl he wore every time he looked at me deepened. Without thinking, maybe from lack of sleep or too many emotions, my hand rose and smoothed out the lines of his brow.
“Better.” I whispered, not missing the way his dark eyes widened. “Anyhow, umm… I’m okay.”
“Talk to me, Candy,” he ordered again, the deep, rough tone a little softer, maybe even a little warmer than I was used to.
I don’t know what it was. Maybe the urgency in his voice or the softness in his eyes he usually never gave me, or the warmth of his body pressed closer to me than I was used to when the counter at the hardware store was between us, but I spilled the beans.
I told him everything.
All about the last year and how frustrated I was with the whole situation. I couldn’t stop talking. It was like a damn had opened and everything simply spilled out. And if he was annoyed, he didn’t show it. No. Onyx Trejo just stood in front of me, his hands on my hips as he listened to me like I was the most interesting person he’d ever met even though I knew just how untrue that was. Maybe it was a personality trait you automatically developed when you grew up with four sisters?
“It was just a moment. I’ll be fine and back there first thing in the morning,” I mumbled. Somehow, through my yapping, his hand had found mine.
“You bet it’s going to be okay. I’ll talk to Russ and?—“
“No!” I laughed, wholeheartedly. “You will not talk to him.” He made a face, “Not about this,” I added.
“But—“
“I hate buts,” I cut in with a grimace. I didn’t want to hear anotherbutfor the rest of the day. “Thanks for this, though.” I sniffled and let go of his hand, hating how empty mine felt without his. “It really made my day.” I pulled away, and my eyes dropped to his shirt. “Oh no!” I gasped.
“What?” he asked, back to scowly face again.
“I stained your shirt with my tears and makeup,” I mumbled, pressing my lips together.
“It’s not a big deal.” He shrugged, and when our eyes connected, I was tempted beyond belief to lean in closer. Maybe even dip my head into the crook of his neck and take a good whiff of that yummy cologne he wore.
Get a hold of yourself! You’re not his type! He thinks you are a big girl. Aka FAT! Not only that, but he called you a snowflake!I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t sound like a good thing.
Onyx blinked, and his lips parted. For a split second, I could have sworn his eyes dropped to my mouth, as if all he couldthink about was kissing me. But that was stupid and hopelessly romantic of me to think. Hopelessly romantic and stupid.
The man could hardly stand me.
“I should go,” I blurted out before I did something crazy, like press my lips to his.
“Want to go get a hot chocolate? My treat?” he offered. I blinked. The temptation to give in was high.
Hot chocolate was my drink of choice and vice. I could have the sweet, comforting drink any time of the year and never get tired of it.
“No thanks.” I found myself turning him down and instantly hated myself for it. Working two jobs where one was virtually free labor meant sweet treats like hot cocoa were few and far in between. “You were heading into the store?” I asked. My eyes bounced from where we stood to the front of the hardware store. Guilt crept up my neck at the thought of leaving my uncle alone.
“Yeah, I was.” He nodded but never took his eyes off mine.
“Oh? Did you need more paint?” I asked and hated how warm my face turned in that moment.
“Something like that.” He pulled away and stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his pants.
