Page 6 of Scarred Trust

“This should be enough.” Weston drew her attention away from the table, placing a wad of cash in her hands, closing his around hers.

“That’s too much.” I didn’t need to count it to know it probably covered more than the entire table’s tab.

“Hopefully it makes up for... any difficulties.” He gestured toward the table. Taking a step back, he seemed reluctant to let go of me as our arms stretched between us. “See you soon, Miss Duffy.”

“I hope so, Mr. St. James,” I whispered to myself as I watched him walk out the doors into the night.

Chapter 4

WHY AM I OUT HERE IN the pouring rain like some creeper? Sure, Doc said to give it a chance and I might be surprised. Hopefully, he means something other than the gravitational pull that led me here night after night for the past two weeks. Yeah, I’m tired of making excuses to see the way her face lights up when saying hello just so I can pretend it’s just for me.

Yet here I am with no fucking plan, staring at a steel door that looks like it belongs on a vault. I could throw rocks at that little balcony above the restaurant, but what if it’s not hers? What if it is, and she’s sleeping and calls the cops?

“Or you could ring the bell next to the door.” Cate’s disembodied voice filled the alleyway.

“Shit. Did I wake you?” I stare up at what looks like the video camera and pull down the soaked hood of my jacket to make sure she can see that it’s me.

“No, but your pacing keeps setting off the security alert, so I had to check what was happening. What are you doing here, Wes?” She sounds more concerned than annoyed, so I’ll take it as a win.

“Just want to make sure my crew won’t get called over here again.” I give a huff of a laugh to make sure she knows it was a joke. I stare down at the ground and kick at the puddles, embarrassed that I just sound desperate instead of chill and fun, like I used to, though I’m not sure she ever thought of me like that. Or that she ever thought of me, then or now. What am I doing here?

“Maybe you want to come in, out of the rain?” Just as I turned to leave, the sound of metal shifting and scraping against itself before her sweet face peered through the open door.

“Yeah, thanks.” I followed her into an open hallway and waited for her to secure the door. Her hair was in a messy bun that emphasized her graceful neck. The dim light caught on the curve of her throat, drawing my eyes lower. I wanted to discover all the sensitive spots that would spark her for me. I ached to run my tongue along her collarbone and nibble down to her exposed cleavage in her little cami pjs. In an effort not to stare at all her beautiful smooth skin being revealed, I glanced at the other end of the hallway, catching a glimpse of a faint light illuminating the dining room of the restaurant.

Without a word, she led me past the closed doors on either side of us, through the swinging double doors to the large, white and stainless steel kitchen. I had been so focused on Cate a couple of weeks ago, I hadn’t noticed much else. The space was spotless except for the long table in front of the ovens, where she apparently had been working for a while. A stack of bowls and utensils sat at one end. A closed laptop, her oversized glasses, and a pile of papers on the rest of the surface. A thin colorful robe draped over a stool.

“Here, let me help you dry off.” She appeared with a hand towel, dabbing at the drops of water clinging to me. Her scent was like a freshly baked coffee cake. A little sweet, earthy, and something uniquely her. It wound around me, preventing me from moving, afraid to break the spell of whatever compelled her to touch me.

“What are you listening to?” Her warm breath caressed my throat as she reached higher. Our lips would meet if she shifted slightly.

“Just a playlist for running.” I had forgotten I still had my earbuds in. One of my father’s favorite songs, ‘Family Affair’ by Mary J. Blige, made me think of him showing off his moves with my mom on warm summer days. It was part of the soundtrack my dad had created for my family to share, but it was perfectly timed with the warm-up and wind-down times for running. With this song, I should be at my peak pace, but my scrambled thoughts had been centered on Cate for days. Her finger skimmed the edge of my ear, sending a frisson of need through me.

“Trina,” I sighed, placing a hand over hers as she wiped toward my neck. I couldn't let her see how broken I was, physically, mentally, or emotionally. I needed more time to pretend that there was a chance for us to be together.

“Oh. Uh. I’ll be right back.” Her eyes widened when she met my gaze, and she tripped over her feet, moving away. Was she scared to see the fire she was stoking? Had I overstepped using a name only those closest to her were allowed? I liked the feel of it on my tongue, like a song I wanted to sing over and over until the end of time.

“There’s fresh coffee. Help yourself.” She called over her shoulder, pointing at the table before disappearing through the doorway. I stared after her, contemplating what I expected to accomplish by showing up like this. She was simply being polite to an old acquaintance. I couldn’t take advantage of that by overstaying when I shouldn’t even be here.

“I brought a shirt for you to change into—” she stated, pushing through the door as I was going through the other side. Her hair was down, flowing over her shoulders. I itched to feel its softness wrapped around my fingers. She held up the shirt for me to see that it stated ‘Duffy's does it better’. I knew they had multiple options for their patrons to choose. Was she subtly trying to tell me something, or was it just wishful thinking? Grabbing the front of my hoodie, she led me back into the kitchen. When she started to slide the zipper down, I placed my hand over hers again.

“Do you prefer milk or cream with your coffee?” she asked, retreating through another door, not waiting for an answer. She might’ve thought I was pushing her away, but I’m just trying to delay her inevitable rejection. ‘No one wants a broken man’, my ex’s voice echoed through my head, emphasizing that I should leave.

Attempting to quiet the antagonizing thoughts, I took a deep breath, focusing on feeling my chest expand and relax. There was something about Cate that brought me a sense of calm for the first time in over a year. I wanted to be selfish for a little longer. I pulled my still drenched shirt and jacket over my head in one movement, keeping my back to the wall opposite the direction she had gone.

“I brought both—” She stopped mid-stride, watching me pull the Duffy’s t-shirt over my stomach and adjust it to ensure it covered as much of my neck as possible. “It looks like I guessed the right size,” she said, grabbing a mug from a stack on another table before crossing the room to me.

“Perfect fit. Thanks.” I couldn’t help but smile at the idea that Cate may have been checking me out.

“Sorry, I didn’t have a change of pants for you. I don’t think any of mine would fit you.” She stood on the other side of the table, pouring from a French press into two cups. As petite as she was, anything of hers would be like capris on me. The image made me laugh, but I noticed she wasn’t, nor was she making eye contact.

“No worries. I appreciate just being able to get out of the rain for a few. I’ll get out of your way now.”

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?” Cate demanded in a tone like my mama when she’d catch my brother and me in a lie. Sliding up onto the tabletop, she crossed her legs and pushed the coffee toward me.

“I couldn’t sleep.” I stared at the milky white smooth skin of her legs hypnotically swinging in the air. My fingers drummed to her rhythm on the edge of the table, instead of the soulful song in my ears.

“So you came for the specialty coffee and to commiserate? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure any cafe could help you with either of those.” I’d like to imagine I could come up with a witty retort, but only one thought was circling through my mind: this was the only chance I might get. It was time to pull back the curtain a little, and let her see the real me.