She shrugs. “It’s a small town. We country folk notice things.”
I grunt, tugging my hat down over my eyes. “Yeah. Guess you do.”
She studies me for a moment longer, then drops it. She doesn’t push for more details. She just lets me be.
Later, when I’m alone in my room, I pace back and forth anxiously, trying to shake off the ghosts that haunt me. I think about Aubrey…about our night together, how wet she was for me, how she felt clinging to me, her legs wrapped around my waist. I drag a hand over my face, cursing.
I need to get the hell out of here. Get as far away from Crystal Falls as I can, never looking back. For her sake, if nothing else. My life is a shit show and the world I exist in isn’t safe. I’ve got demons that would eat this town alive if they found me. But the thought of leaving her again makes my chest ache. I fucked up the last time, just up and leaving without a word, acting like she was just another notch in my bedpost when I knew damn well the moment I looked into those big brown eyes, she was more.
I can’t leave. Not yet. Maybe I’m being selfish, maybe I’m stupid, but I need another taste. Just one more.
I take a cold shower, letting the water pound against my skin, but it does nothing to calm this need burning inside me.I picture her naked, eyes wide, body begging for me. My cock is hard, standing at attention, my hand working, stroking slow, before I even know what I’m doing. Thinking about the sounds she made, about the way she said my name. I come hard, biting down on my own fist to keep from shouting her name.
Pathetic, I know.
Afterward, I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling like it’s going to answer all my questions. Why did I come back here? Why can’t I let her go? Why do I want her more than I want my own fucking safety?
I roll over, punch the pillow, and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I swear. Tomorrow, I’ll figure all this shit out.
But who am I kidding? She’s in my blood, and I’m too far gone to run.
Chapter 3
Aubrey
If anyone would have toldme a few weeks ago that I’d be mentally undressing some hot biker in my family’s diner every damn morning, I’d call them delusional. That’s not how things work in Crystal Falls. We get our excitement from lost cows, carnivals, and the annual Christmas parade, not from brooding men with haunted eyes, and hands that look like they know trouble.
But here I am, watching the clock again, smoothing my hair in the reflection of the napkin dispenser like some lovesick teenager. Dean Michaels comes in earlier every day now, and I’m zero chill about it. It’s not even subtle anymore. He’s a permanent fixture in my mornings—same booth, same dark stare, same leather jacket. Like déjà vu with extra testosterone.
I finish refilling the sugar jars and try to act like it’s totally normal to feel my pulse rate spike every time I hear the bell over the door chime. Today, he walks in just as the sun is coming over the big oak tree outside, sending a golden ray of light across the chipped tile floor. My heart does a weird little skipping thing.
“Morning, Miss Aubrey,” Mr. Halpern calls from his stool, not even bothering to look up from his crossword. “You see thepaper? Another coyote was spotted down by the creek. And the mayor’s kid failed his driving test again.”
“Poor kid. He’ll be the only senior riding his bike to prom,” I say, grinning. The normalcy of my daily life helps. Keeps me from floating away on this stupid little thrill that runs through me every time Dean’s heavy boots hit the floor of the diner.
He catches my eye as he sits, sliding into his usual spot, back of the diner, back to the wall, fingers tracing the cracked pleather of the booth. I swear, every time he walks in, the whole place goes quiet for half a second, like everyone’s waiting for him to do something crazy. Hell, maybe I am, too.
I grab the coffeepot and a clean cup. My palms are already sweaty, so I hold the handle extra tight. “You’re here early today,” I say, pouring his coffee.
He just gives me that look. “Didn’t sleep.”
I nod like I get it, and believe it or not, I do. Sometimes you just can’t turn your brain off. Not in this town, not with all the ghosts, memories of the past, and what-ifs.
Dean’s eyes are constantly flicking from the front door to the window, cataloguing every move. Most folks in town would call it paranoia. I call it a survival instinct. I wonder what made him this way, what he is running from…or who.
He picks up the ceramic mug, his large fingers engulfing the handle, and sips, watching me over the rim. There’s a heat in his eyes I can’t name. It’s not the first time he’s looked at me like that, but it’s the first time I’ve let myself really stare back. I wonder if he remembers what I remember. My dress bunched up and around my waist, his breath hot against my neck, the way I begged him not to stop.
I flush hard, fumble the sugar bowl, and nearly drop the thing. Smooth, Aubrey. Real smooth.
He smirks. “You good?”
“Great,” I say, and it sounds more like a squeak. I clear my throat. “Just trying to dodge the Monday morning stigma.”
Gina pokes her head out of the kitchen, eyebrow arched. “You need me to save you, honey? Or are you actually enjoying yourself?”
I turn to glare at her, mouthing, Shut up. She grins, winks, and disappears back through the door. I hope she burns the toast.
The diner fills with the usual crowd…ranch hands with mud on their boots, the sheriff grabbing coffee to go, a group of moms in yoga pants who never actually go to yoga. Dean watches, his expression unreadable. I imagine how he would be in a real crowd, somewhere noisy and wild, and I get this butterfly flutter in my belly.
