“You look—”
“Naked,” I interrupted, the desperation in my voice totally obvious.
“Please, allow me to finish—”
I didn’t do that.
“We’re even, Holst. Please, don’t say anything else,” I requested.
“Katherine, when have I ever done what you asked of me?” He smirked.
“I’m begging you to try,” I retorted with attitude.
The smirk now a grin, his eyes never left me. “I’ll call you about the tasting. Next week,” he said.
“Fine.”
“Fine,” he agreed and turned back to the door.
“Katherine?”
I put my arms out in annoyance. “Couldn’t just leave it alone—” But my words were cut off when he rushed at me and his lips hit mine, one hand at my back, pulling me to his hard body, the other at the back of my head, deepening the kiss...and oh my God, there had never been a kiss like it. Not ever. Not from the man who stole my heart all those years ago or any of those that came since.
Never one like this.
And I returned as good as he gave, one hand gripped in that thick head of dark hair, tasting, exploring, never wanting it to end. But it had to end, unfortunately.
He pulled away, panting, a light touch of his lip to mine, and said, “You look good enough to eat, baby.”
He was speaking my language.
My mouth was dry when I returned, “Thanks, Holst.”
“See you next week, Katherine.”
When he was gone, Dee appeared at my side. I took the glass of champagne she held out to me and made a statement to the room. “So, that happened. Ladies, we are going to move forward from this day and never speak of it again. Am I understood?”
I looked at my two friends.
I was so not understood.
“That dress was made for you,” Dee told me.
Ruby put in her two cents. “I can see the favors, decorations, cake…everything.”
“I am not getting married,” I insisted.
“Oh yeah you are.” Dee smiled. “It all starts with the dress. The guy comes later.” She nodded toward the door.
And I may have left the house with a new attitude, satisfied to move on, and, if the opportunity presented itself, a great guy with it…
Maybe.
But right then, feeling like the world was waiting for me right outside the door of the bridal shop, I wanted to stay right there, where it was safe. Because I was absolutely fucking terrified.
Holst
I had a plan when I moved to Laguna Beach. I wanted to negotiate a discounted lease with my dad’s landlord and pay him two years in advance before I gutted the one-bedroom studio…and I did. Knowing—or hoping—I’d be there for a while, I wanted to make it my own. For the first time in four years, I only had to think of myself. This was a fresh start, and though I didn’t want to blow money on a rental apartment, it didn’t stop me from going to Ikea, of all places, for furniture and a new kitchen.
I had half the sale of a two-bedroom house in Dana Point to pour into the coffee shop, something I knew in my bones would not, could not, possibly fail. I saw the opportunity and jumped, knowing even with the economy, people still drank coffee. As long as I made it affordable, they would relish the idea of going somewhere to relax, read a book, feel the ocean breeze drift through. Then there were the people who still had money, who would support a local business because, in turn, it supported the community.
It would not fail.
What I didn’t expect was—with a new home, a new business, and swearing off the possibility of a woman in my future, one that was more than just a casual fuck—meeting someone like Katherine. Not only that, but with her pull so strong, I couldn’t control the power she had over me. When I stood before her, nude, my body wet with saltwater from the ocean, I wanted her. I wanted to take all that attitude and fuck it away…her sarcasm, her filthy mouth, her passion, her pain, and show her what a real man was. Katherine declared she was a woman of her word, and I was a perfect match for her…a loyal man.
Always.
Now, I’d further complicated things between us by kissing her. She hit the nail on the head by declaring she was naked, exposed in a way she would never want me to see. But I had. I wasn’t a man to admit fear, not when it came to emotions. Never had I found myself afraid of anything.
Until now.
It had been two weeks since our kiss, and in that time, Drew had completed the rooftop deck. Katherine elected to do the tasting with her friends, Dee and Ruby, suggesting via text that two outside opinions might be helpful, and I agreed, giving her that space. I sent her a message when the shop was finished that I would be there on the following Monday to begin clean-up. Monday morning, I returned from seeing my mother and found Bear Claw had been cleaned, decorated, and stocked with paper cups donning the new logo. Not only that, she’d had coffee mugs custom made with the logo, lined on a shelf for sale behind the counter.
Her major contribution to the shop: a new espresso machine from the distributor I’d recommended in the color of a navel orange. It was sleek, eye catching, and tied into the vintage citrus company signs that decorated the interior walls.
Wifi, phone, computer, and cash register had been installed last week, and the pride of place as you walked in was a vintage diner sign on the counter that read “orders” propped up by a foot-tall wooden grizzly bear. I shouldn’t have expected anything less from Katherine. She’d done most of the buying for the place she’d managed downtown, and from just glancing through the windows of the high-end tourist shop, I could see the same touches there as I had in her apartment. All her, everything in its place, tidy, and with a purposeful quirk. The absence of femininity was obvious, and, at first, I thought maybe it just wasn’t her style. Living with a woman for four years, the fact there was nothing in her home that expressed “woman,” told me this was done with a message to any man who entered: I am not weak; I do not require rescuing. She may have wanted me or the myriad of men she’d brought to her bed to believe that, but it was simply part of her mask. Seeing her in a wedding gown that was clearly meant to be hers, I’d glimpsed the real Katherine, and she definitely needed rescuing.
And, I felt quite certain I was the man for the job.
In a conversation with my mother over the weekend, she asked, “Have you found anyone to spend some time with?” Her gentle way of asking if I was getting laid.
“I believe I have,” I replied and smiled, with the taste of Katherine’s lips a memory I kept close. The image of her in that dress, the wonder of discovery had I the opportunity to kneel before her and reach my hands blindly beneath, to trail between her long legs with my tongue and really get a taste of her; my mind was consumed with these thoughts, day and night, for the last two weeks.
Finally, Tuesday morning, Cameron and Victoria extended an invitation to a party at their home the coming Friday night, celebrating their safe return from their honeymoon.
I’d already brought a few things back from my mother’s place and decided to arrange a gift for the newlyweds. Finally, the day arrived, and I knew, at long last, I’d see Katherine. I walked out the door of Bear Claw, turned right, and stood before the green gate that led to Cameron and Victoria’s home. Footsteps behind me meant other guests had arrived.
“Dude, how’s it going?” This was Frodo, dressed in black jeans, black suede boots, and a navy blue dress shirt. He’d been growing out a beard. His pale skin against unnaturally sapphire blue eyes made them shine, almost eerily, so much so, I couldn’t stop staring at them. “Is it my tattoos, the fact I’m short, or my eyes that are making you uncomfortable?” he asked.
I smirked at his intuitive and candid question. “It was the eyes. I’ve never seen eyes that shade of blue.”
Then this man, who, I would learn over the following months, had a soul as old as the ocean was deep, shared his theory behind the color. “When I’m in turmoil, they become darker.”