When she was here, my mind was quiet – something that rarely happens. All of the twisted thoughts and self-deprecating voices in my head fell silent, every single bit of my focus locked on her. Honestly, I thought I was imagining her, hallucinating or finally losing the plot. Of course, that was the perfect time for me to go mute, losing the ability to use words.
Our kiss… fucking hell. It was everything I dreamed of and more. She tasted like pastry, the smell of freshly baked bread clinging to her. She kissed me back, I know I didn’t imagine that. She wants me. At least, part of her does.
I need to go and speak to her, to tell her… to tell her what? What exactly am I planning to do? I have no bloody idea, but I’m sure I’ll know when I get there.
Ignoring the pain in my legs, I scramble to my feet and stumble towards the door like I’m drunk. Elliot and Bear are ontheir feet in an instant, with the former blocking my path, his hand braced on my shoulder.
“Woah, where are you going?”
Is he fucking stupid? He saw what happened, where does he think I’m going? Raising a brow, I shoot him a dark look that would make most people scurry out of my way. “I need to speak to her.”
He doesn’t react to my death glare, and it only makes me more frustrated. He needs to get out of my way before I do something we will both regret later.
“And what are you going to say?” He demands, removing his hand from my shoulder but not stepping out of my path. “You sound like a stalker.”
He thinks I’m a stalker? He’s seen nothing yet. Ineedher like I need water to survive. This isn’t just about sex or physical attraction; this is about a soul-deep connection between two people.
“You can’t stop me.” My voice drops an octave, making me sound more animal than man. “She’s the girl!” I shove Elliot, pushing him back a few steps.
Normally this wouldn’t move him, but he obviously wasn’t expecting me to shove him. Something like betrayal crosses his face and is quickly replaced with anger. I sound like a fucking mad man, and without her, that’s exactly how I feel, like the rest of my life is a fever dream and only she can bring me back into reality.
Bear steps back and into my line of sight, hands raised and brows high, big brother stepping in to stop a fight. “Woah, Clay, slow down for a second.”
Bear has a voice that he saves for when he has to calm others down, usually when he’s trying to talk me out of doing something stupid. He’s using that voice now. “She is our neighbour and we need to keep good relations–”
Grumbling in frustration, I try to move around him. “Fuck good relations.”
“And,” he continues as though I didn’t cut him off, stepping into my path, “didn’t you see how startled she looked?”
I stop, allowing what he’s saying to register in my mind. She did look startled, and wholly overwhelmed by the whole situation. She kissed me back, she wants me. This is more than just the physical, though, and I pushed the line today.
“She might be the girl you met and you have a whole host of feelings, but you need to give her time.” Seeing that I’m not about to storm off and make the situation worse, he claps me on the shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.
Gritting my teeth and balling my hands into fists, I nod my acceptance. Running straight after her isn’t the right move, and certainly not how I usually handle women. I hate to agree with Bear, but maybe he’s right. This way she can stew over our kiss. Let her come to me. I don’t want to scare her.
After all, now I’ve found her there’s no escaping me.
THIRTEEN
HOLLY
It’s been several days since Bear introduced me to his ‘brothers’ and business partners, and while I’ve had nothing to do with them since, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.
The bakery is really busy in summer, so I’ve been helping out a lot with the general day-to-day baking and serving rather than the custom stuff I usually do. The front of the bakery is predominantly made up of windows, meaning every time one of them walks in or out of their building, I notice. At least, I keep telling myself that is the reason and not that I’m just hyper aware of them for my own confusing reasons.
“He’s out there watching you again,” Annie mentions between customers, her expression a mix of amusement and concern, a strange combination. “Do you want me to call the police?”
Another reason that I can’t get them out of my mind is the fact that Clay has been spending hours sitting under the tree in the centre of the marketplace and staring across at the bakery. He’ll stay there for hours and I know he’s watching me. It should make me feel uncomfortable, but secretly it gives me a thrill whenever I see him.
Lifting my gaze from the current order I’m packing, I spot him in his usual place. Of course, I already knew he was there, but I’ve been trying to stay focused on what I’m doing so I don’t make any mistakes. Now his presence has been acknowledged by someone else, though, I can stop pretending I don’t know he’s there.
“No, it’s fine.” My response is deceptively even, though my heart is actually doing summersaults in my chest. “I’ll go talk to him.”
Finishing up the customer’s order, I hand it over with a smile and nonchalantly remove my apron, hanging it up and stepping from behind the counter. I have no idea what I’m going to say to him, and I don’t know why nervous excitement is fuelling my steps. Leaning up against the large tree trunk, he looks like a wet dream personified in a faded band T-shirt, grey jeans and biker boots. A leather jacket lies on the grass next to him, his tattoos on full display. Sunglasses hide his stunning blue eyes, but I can feel his stare. He’s definitely watching me.
His elbow is propped against his knee as he rests his chin on his hand. Everything about him looks relaxed, but I get the impression that he would be ready to move in a moment’s notice. He reminds me of a wild animal, a predator lazily watching his prey, ready to pounce the second I let my guard down.
Ignoring the image that this thought brings up, I come to a stop before him and cross my arms over my chest. I raise my brow, tilting my head to one side as if examining him. “Some might consider this stalker behaviour.”
