“What do you mean?” I ask him as if I haven’t got a clue and then quickly follow up with, “I’m just tired.” It sounds phony to my own ears, so I’m sure I sound like a bad liar to him too.
“You seemed a little shaken the other night,” Jake says softly, leaning forward. Someone calls out his name and he barely acknowledges them, holding up his hand to tell them to wait. “Maybe you came in looking for something?” he asks me with his eyes narrowed.
The playfulness is gone, as is the sound of all conversation in the busy bar. In its place is the rapid thumping of my heart.
“Or someone?” he says as somebody else calls out his name again, breaking me from the moment. I turn to the man with the bushy eyebrows as Jake tells him, “One minute!” in not the most patient of tones.
“So what is it?” he says and waits for me.
“I didn’t come in here looking for anything or anyone.” I tell him the truth. My voice is small, pleading even.
“But you found something,” he prompts.
I only nod my head and he pushes off of the bar, standing up and making his way back to the draft beers to satisfy the old man’s order.
“If you don’t want to see him again, you should leave now,” Jake speaks without looking at me and then smiles and jokes with the man at the end of the bar.
“Why’s that?” I call after him, my voice raised so he can hear me and the bar top digging into my stomach as I lean over it to get a good view of him.
Just as Jake opens his mouth to answer me, the door to the bar opens and I can feel the atmosphere change.
No one else stops talking. No one else turns to look over their shoulder.
But I do. I’m drawn to him and always have been. It’s like my body knows his. Like my soul was waiting for his.
Daniel’s always had an intensity about him. There’s a dominance that lingers in the way he carries himself. A threat just barely contained. The rough stubble over his hard jaw begs me to run my hand against it. The black leather of his jacket is stretched over his shoulders.
Thump … thump … my heart ticks along and then stops.
Daniel’s dark eyes meet mine instantly. They swirl with an emotion I can’t place as they narrow, and I can’t breathe until he takes a step. We both hang there for what feels like forever. He must know I’ve come here for him.
I watch as he moves, or rather stalks toward me. Each movement is careful, barely contained. Like it’s taking everything in him just to be near me. I know he wants to appear relaxed, but he’s faking it.
And with another step toward me, I can finally tear my gaze away.
I look forward, my back straight and my eyes on the beer in front of me as he walks behind me. I can hear each step and the scratch of the barstool on the floor directly to my left as he pulls it out.
I remind myself I came here for him. No, not for him. To see him. To clear the air.
I came here to this small town for me because I finally had my life together.
And he ruined it. The memory of his cold reception and dismissal hurts more and more with each passing second. I’m not a little girl for him to shove aside anymore and treat like I’m some annoyance.
The thought strengthens my resolve and I turn sharply to the left just as he takes his seat. He’s so close my breasts nearly brush his bicep and it forces the words to a grinding halt as I pull back.
I’d forgotten what he smells like, a woody scent with a freshness to it. Like trees on the far edge of a forest by the water. I’d forgotten what it feels like to be this close to him.
To be too close to what can ruin you is a disconcerting feeling.
“Addison,” he says and although his voice is deep and masculine, in that smooth cadence my name sounds positively sinful. The irritation in his tone that was constant in my memory is absent.
“Daniel.” I barely manage to get his name out and I clear my throat, slowly sitting back in my seat to grab the beer in front of me. “I was wondering if I’d find you here,” I admit and then peek up at him.
A genuine grin grows slowly on his handsome face. I swear his teeth are perfectly white. It’s a crime for a man to look this good.
“You came here looking for me?” he asks me with a cockiness that reminds me of a boy I once knew and again, for the second time, my confidence is shaken. As I lick my lower lip to respond, I fail to find the words.
“Do I intimidate you, Addison?” he asks in a teasing voice and I roll my eyes and then lift the beer to my lips. I assume he’ll say something else as I drink, but he doesn’t.
As I set the glass down, I look him in the eyes. “You know you do and I hate it.” There’s a heat between us that ignites in an instant. As if a drop of truth could set fire to us both. I can barely breathe looking into his dark eyes.
“Do you now?” he asks again in that same playful tone. “So you came here looking for me because you hate me?”
“Yes,” I answer him without hesitation, although it’s not quite truthful. That’s not why, but I’m fine with him thinking that.
His brow raises slightly and he tilts his head as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. Slowly he corrects it, and I can feel his guard slowly climb up. It’s this thing he always did. It’s odd how I remember it so well. For only moments, only glimpses, I swear he let me in. But just like that it was gone, and a distance grew between us, even if we hadn’t moved an inch.
“Don’t do that,” I tell him as soon as I sense it and his eyes narrow at me. “I don’t hate you. I hate that you were rude to me.”
“I wasn’t rude.”
“You were a dick.” My words come out with an edge that can’t be denied and I wish I could swallow them back down.
“I’m sorry,” he tells me and he looks apprehensive. It’s weird hearing him say those words. I can’t think of him ever speaking them to anyone before. “You came looking for an apology?”
“No, not really,” I tell him and shrug, wanting to take a step back from the tense air, but my ass is firmly planted on this stool. He turns to his left and I look back at the glass while I continue, just wanting to get it out of me before he’s gone again.
“I just wanted to talk.” The words finally come out, although they’re not quite right. I want to spill every word that’s inside of me. From the last night I saw him all those years ago, to everything that’s happened up until this moment. There aren’t a lot of people who can relate to what we’ve gone through.
He still hasn’t said a word. His gaze is focused on me as if he’s trying to read me, but can’t make out what’s written. If only he’d ask, I’d tell him. I don’t have time for games or secrets, and our history makes up too much of who I am to disrespect it with falsehoods.
“Are you going to run off again?” I ask as he only stares back at me.
“Do you want me to?” he asks me in return.
“No,” I answer instantly and a little too loud. As if what he’d said was a threat. I’m quieter as I add, “I don’t want you to go.” The desperation in my voice is markedly apparent.
“Well what do you want then?” he asks me and I know the answer. I want him. I take in a breath slowly, knowing the truth but also knowing I’d never confess it.