But it’s the risk of alienating Oakley or failing my readers, and that’s not much of a decision for me. My livelihood is what I need to be focusing on.
Packing up all my gear yet again, I give myself the day to figure out how to talk to Oakley about this. I’ll wait until closing time before broaching the subject because I know he doesn’t want word about who he really is getting out.
Heading to Grind Time is the usual affair it always is. I wave to Mabel, Alice, and Jim, who are standing outside of the grocery store and look like they’re up to no good. And a couple of minutes later, I’m walking into the coffee shop.
I head over to my usual spot, and see a muffin and a latte already sitting there. I look around to see who could have taken my spot. When I catch Oakley’s eye, he nods to the table then looks back at me, letting me know he left it for me.
My heart pounds in my chest at the gesture. He keeps taking care of me in the background, and it feels strange. New, and something I’m not used to, so my awkwardness doesn’t let me just accept it. I walk up to the counter, backpack still on.
“What do I owe you?” My sharp tone is a reflection of how uncomfortable I am and not because of the kind gesture I’m reacting poorly to. It’s not his fault I don’t know how to handle this level of attention from a man.
“On the house,” he counters, not caving to me at all.
And it does something to me. Him standing up to my attitude that’s all over the place is attractive. My mind envisions what he would be like in the bedroom. Would we fight for control? He could physically overpower me, and I would be A-okay with that.Holy shit. Focus, Will.
I have to turn away, skittering back to my table, otherwise I’m going to blurt out a whole lot of words that would make both of us uncomfortable.
When I sit down, I realize that my abrupt departure because I was in my head was rude.
“Thanks, Oakley!” I call out and see him smirk at my chaotic actions.
Deciding I need to refocus my brain, I take my time eating my muffin and drinking my first latte of the day, before turning back to my book.
About halfway through the day, I cling on to a string of thought about making my main character fall in love but using the woman against him somehow. I have no idea how to make it all work, but the thought won’t leave me.
My books don’t have a shortage of sex in them, but it’s never the primary focus. They are, at their heart, thrillers. For some reason, creating a relationship within this book feels like an important part of the story, sex included.Huh, maybe it’s a romance?I have no fucking clue right now, and that’s scary. Only having a very basic premise for this book when I’m down to a month to write feels insurmountable. And I still need to work myself up to talk to Oakley about his former job.
“Hey, Willow, we’re closing up soon. You need anything else?” Brittany asks as I am startled at her voice.
“Nope, I’m good. I do need to talk to Oakley, though, so I can help you close up.” It’s honestly the least I can do with how much space I’m taking up here daily.
“Oh, no—”
“I insist,” I interrupt her refusal as I take the rag from her and move to the table beside me.
Together, we clean the small dining room, Oakley nowhere to be seen.
“Well, I’m going to head out, but I’ll tell Oakley you’re waiting for him,” Brittany says before heading back to the office.
Awkwardly rocking on my heels as I wait in the empty coffee shop, I’m second-guessing this whole thing. I don’t know how Oakley is going to react when I tell him what I overheard. He’s taken a lot of care to hide his past, and I’m about to blow it wide open. Not that I would tell anyone else in town, but even one person knowing might cause him to freak out.
I figure this could go one of two ways. He’ll either calmly hear me out before losing his shit, or go in full-on panic mode and kick me out for good. No more lattes with foam on top he’s been trying really hard to make pretty. No more delicious paninis.Fuck, if this book wasn’t so fucking important, I wouldn’t be jeopardizing my access to the best food in town.What an irrational thought. Sometimes, even I amaze myself.
Before I can do any more back and forth in my head, Oakley’s voice sounds from behind me.
“Brittany said you needed to talk to me. Is everything okay?” The genuine worry in his voice makes me feel like shit for what I’m about to tell him.
“You should probably lock up and make sure no one accidentally comes in.” I know it sounds cryptic, but I know without a doubt he doesn’t want this getting out to anyone. This is just extra security.
“Umm, okay.” He moves to comply and then takes a seat next to my usual spot.
I join him and start wringing my hands together, unsure of how to approach this. I’m scared of his response. Scared I’ll lose this very precarious relationship we’ve been working on over the last month or so.
“Willow, you’re freaking me out. Is everything okay? Are you in trouble?” Gah, those protective instincts of his never stop working.
“Everything’s fine. Well, I hope they stay that way after I tell you what I’m about to tell you,” I ramble.
“Will. What. Is. Wrong?” he says through clenched teeth.
