Page 30 of Cruz

I move off with the ladder, tucking it in the small storage room next to Sloane’s tiny office. I can already hear her in the prep area, taking down bowls and grabbing ingredients.

How long will it take Wizard to figure this out? I was anxious before, for Liam’s sake, to get this dealt with, but now I’m hoping that I can go back to the club, and back to my life the way it was before, for a whole different reason. That kiss was one of those moments. A before and after defining moment where life is different after. I’d say where it’s for better or worse after, but I already know this is worse. Far, far worse.

Chapter 12

Sloane

That kiss changed everything.

And it took everything I had, not to kiss him right back. God, I wanted to. And knowing that he feels something too is making it doubly hard. But I can’t do this. It’s not fair on Liam. It’s not fair on me or Cruz either. So, I had to stop it in its tracks.

Somehow, we made it through three long days. The longest of my freaking life. Cruz and I avoid each other as much as possible. Once I have the café open again, my attention is fixed on my customers, on cleaning, baking, ordering, and the usual day to day. Still. I have to admit that my mind isn’t on it the way that it usually is. Cruz is a hard man to ignore. We might skirt around each other, but he’s still here. In my space. In my head.

He’s in my head right now. I’m staring up at the ceiling instead of sleeping. Like usual, I’m hyper-aware of Cruz’s presence in the living room. He’s either sitting on the couch with his phone on his knee, or he’s at the kitchen table in the hard wooden chair, staring the door down like it’s going to blink first if he just does it long enough.

At this time of night, the downtown area is just about deserted. The usual glow of streetlights and residual business signs kept on all night long, flood through the blinds, but there’s rarely a sweep of car lights to illuminate the whole room.

It’s not like I’m going to do anything about that kiss, but if I could… if Cruz was just some regular guy who didn’t know Liam and we weren’t all embroiled in the middle of crazy, deadly shit, what would I do?

While I clean and bake and serve customers, I think about the fact that it’s okay to change your mind. It’s okay to grow. It’s even fine to prove yourself wrong. I didn’t think I wanted anything more in my life. I thought I was doing just fine.

And then.

And then, Cruz kissed me.

I’m going to keep asking myself that same question. If I was free to do it, would I try something new? Would I start something? Just because he kissed me doesn’t mean that he wants any of that. Commitment or dating. Then again, he made it seem like he might.

There’s no use speculating about it.

I don’t think it was a mistake, but it happened and we’re moving on from it. Nothing’s going to come of it. Okay, I’m kidding myself. I haven’t moved on from it at all. It’s only been a few days, but it could be a few weeks, or a few years, and I know that I’m not going to stop thinking about it. My lips are practically still burning and other parts of me have come alive that haven’t seen the metaphorical sun for a very long damn time.

It’s hard to let it flow and let it go when the man I can’t stop thinking about is still in my home. When he’s in my space all day long. When he eats dinner at my table, and drives with me to take Liam to work in the mornings. Liam gets a ride home in the evening, so that Cruz doesn’t have to leave here.

Cruz is entirely ingrained in my life.

My body won’t let me forget it. I’m overheated and constantly tingling all over. My stomach won’t stop flipping. I keep telling myself that it’ll stop eventually, but I’m not sure when eventually is.

If I’m going to keep fantasizing about something that lasted less than thirty seconds and was about one pepper wild on the spice scale, then I need to either change my policy about reading romance and get some new mental material at night, or I should invest in a new toy. New techniques?

What I need is a glass of water. My throat is so parched that I can barely swallow. That’ll mean walking past Cruz, but like he’s done for the past few days, he’ll likely only give me a token nod and say nothing. We’re both trying to exist in each other’s space. I’m in his too. He might be quiet, but on the inside, I know there’s plenty going on.

I get out of bed. I’m not into having hot flashes yet and the temperature isn’t wonky in here, but I’m sweaty and gross. I debate having a cool shower to lower my freaking libido a notch, but I doubt it would help. I find a fresh pair of pajama bottoms in my dresser instead, and throw on a t-shirt of Liam’s that he outgrew years ago, so it was relegated to my pajama stash.

I creep down the hall silently, but I have no doubt that Cruz, with his superhuman powers of observation, will hear me coming.

He’s on the couch, with his phone on his knee, just like I pictured.

I tiptoe to the kitchen, grab a glass, and run the tap. Cruz doesn’t move. He doesn’t react. I know he’s awake, I know that he sees me. It should weird me out, having him sit there so silently, but instead, all I feel is safe.

And that same maddening, low grade burn.

I turn my head as discreetly as possible and study Cruz’s shoulders. My heart squeezes. I don’t know why except that my turmoil feels like his, and his feels like mine. We’re sharing experiences and emotions. We’ve shared things that we haven’t told other people.

He’s not a stranger, even if we did basically just meet. I know that he’s dyslexic. I know that he didn’t get the proper love from his parents that any child should. He stood up for kids getting bullied and tried to do the honorable thing for his country when he grew up. He got a degree just to prove that he’s super smart to everyone who thought otherwise. He said more words to me in the café a few days ago than he likely has to anyone else in half a lifetime. So, yeah. He’s so much more than a near stranger.

I can’t deny that we’re connected. I might not like it. I might not be prepared for it or know how to deal with it. But side-eying Cruz, I can see the tension in his body. He hasn’t moved since I came down the hallway, but from this angle, I can tell that his shoulders are hunched forward a little.

He kissed me, but he didn’t take me into his arms.