CHAPTER 11
GREYLIN
When I get a good look at my front porch, I come to a screeching halt. Right in the middle of the road without a single fucking care about blocking a damn thing. Why would I care?
I was so sure there was no way Aiden would be waiting for me when I got home today. After not hearing from him for days and with the way the day went with the health inspector bullshit, it would have been nice. But I knew it was impossible.
Which begs the question—what is Aiden doing sitting on my porch right now?
Not only is he sitting there, probably freezing, he doesn’t seem to care about who might see him or who already has.
He raiseshis head and our eyes lock. I barely look away from him, curiosity clawing at me about why he’s here, and somehow still manage to park and get out of my car. Every step I take seems shaky as I approach him.
The closer I get, the more pain I can see in his green eyes. As much as I want to run to him and wrap him up in my arms, I deserve an explanation first.
About why he shut down.
About why he let the conversation drop.
About why it feels like he’s been avoiding me for days now.
About what the fuck is going on.
Even though part of me is tempted to rush over to him, I keep my steps slow. I feel torn. Aiden warned us about the health inspector and his dad’s plans, but now that it’s happened, I’m not sure how to feel. I’m glad we weren’t blindsided, but did knowing change anything?
I guess we’ll never know. It doesn’t really matter anyway; we have to deal with it.
Meadow, even though she’s pissed, has put together a plan for how she’s going to tackle each item on the long list of adjustments and changes that need to be made. She’ll even do it with a smile on her face because having her bakery is a dream come true.
“What are you doing here, Aiden?” My voice is cold, but I don’t have it in me to fake it. Not right now. “I would think you wouldn’t want to potentially be seen with the enemy.”
I sound bitter, but what do you expect from me? I’m so tired of fighting against the mayor’s office even though we haven’t done anything wrong.
The people of Storyville support our business. Not everyone shops there, of course, but no one else is picking up a pitchfork and torch. Just Mayor Simmons.
Aiden stands up slowly and from the way he clenches and releases his hands, I have to wonder how long he’s been here waiting for me. I hate the thought of him being cold, but pride is a bitch. I’m not offering him a damn thing.
“I heard about what happened with the health inspector,” he swallows hard, his words strained, as he stares at me.
His eyes are imploring, like those words should be enough for me to understand everything beneath the surface which isn’t being said. I don’t understand, though.
“Okay?” I rub my forehead and sigh. “Look, I appreciate you stopping by or whatever this is, but you’ve made it clear where we stand. I texted you, but you basically blew me off. I’m not interested in playing games with you, Aiden.”
When I go to step around him, he grabs my wrist. It doesn’t hurt, but I still flinch at the contact. There’s that shock between us again, but my body’s reaction is about more than that. His hands are freezing.
It makes sense considering it is winter in Colorado, but I wasn’t prepared for his icy digits making contact.
“I’m sorry I was acting like an idiot asshole,” his voice is low and pitched just right to worm its way past my defenses. “It had nothing to do with you. It was all me.” His green eyes bore into mine, imploring, begging without words, pleading and tugging at my heartstrings. I’ve always been a sucker for a pitiful expression and some hangdog eyes. Damn it. “I was afraid.”
“What were you afraid of, Aiden?” I sigh, needing to know but not being sure if I’ll like the answer.
“You.” The word hangs between us and I study his face, trying to understand. He glances at the door and then at me. “Can we go inside and talk? It’s cold out here; I don’t want you to get too cold.”
And there it is.
The way he cares for me. The thoughtful way he considers me and my needs.
I nod numbly while I swallow hard and wonder where this version of him has been. It’s not like I don’t understand being scared; I do. And I realize the pressure on him is going be different because his father has a hair up his ass about my business.
