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Scarlett showed up on set the next day with a toothy smile and shining eyes, and it floors me that anyone would have this beautiful woman and treat her that way.
You’re supposed to protect and honor what’s yours, at all costs.
I don’t even know if I can move forward, but I can’t deny that she’s awoken things in me. The desire for a connection, the want for more. And she’s the first, so even though I’ve got no idea what I’m even capable of, I ask her to coffee again. And she says yes.
I tap the dressing room door. “Lucy?” At work, it feels too personal to call her Scarlett. And it makes using her real name that much more special when we’re together. At least, that’s how I feel.
The door swings open, and her perfume engulfs me, making me… tingle. “I’m ready,” she smiles.
It’s been so long since my body yearned for a specific physical place, to be anywhere, to evenbeat all. And now, as we walk down the sidewalk toward Rise & Grind, I realize, logical or not, I’m aching to be near her when I’m not. And when I am? She’s all I can see.
We stop in front of the antique store, and she peers in the window. “Can we pop in here again for a second?”
I nod; I’d go anywhere with her, I’m realizing very quickly. “Looking for something specific?”
She pushes her long hair behind her back, as if preparing for something serious. “A music box. I had one as a little girl, the last thing left of my childhood. Pete destroyed it. And I know what you’re thinking, you can get a music box anywhere. But this one was made with a pink satin interior and a tiny spinning ballerina wearing a tiny tulle skirt.” She brings her hands to her heart and shakes her head, eyes brimming with sadness. “I can hardly talk about it without getting emotional.”
“Lets go look for it then,” I say, pulling the door to the antique store wide open. We go separate ways, Scarlett disappearing down an aisle while I sidle up to the owner at the front desk. I let her know what Scarlett is searching for, and leave her my phone number in case she finds one. Scarlett turns up after a few minutes, shrugging.
“I’ll never stop looking,” she says. “But alas, it’s not here. That would be incredibly convenient, right?” Her smile is full of hope despite the disappointment. I’m learning that hope is contagious.
We go next door, and I get her settled in at a table near where we sat before while I order her coffee and sweets. This time I opt for an old fashioned glazed donut, a blueberry scone, two mini cupcakes, and a slab of carrot cake. When I return with the coffees, then with the pink box, she looks like I brought her the sun, moon and stars.
“I’m not even going to act like I didn’t just get super excited by the sight of that box.”
I smile and it earns me a pointed finger over the table. “You smiled. I’ve hardly seen you smile.”
I’ve gone a long time without a lot of things, so I change the subject and flip the lid of the box open. “Do you like carrot cake? I guessed.”
She makes a show of licking her lips as she pops the lid off her coffee, and it’s fucking cute. Sunlight trickles in around the leaves consuming the window, leaving phosphorescent orbs along half her profile. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. “There isn’t a sweet I don’t like. Even brownies with walnuts. Walnuts are gross, but in a brownie?” She shakes her head with a teasingly smug smile. “Don’t even care.”
“Let me get you a fork,” I say, realizing my mistake. She reaches out, wrapping her hand around my wrist. It’s one of those moments where you can’t believe it’s true—the things you’ve seen in movies. There is an actual electric touch that fills your body with sizzling energy. I know now that it’s not made up. My gaze falls to where she’s holding me, and then across the table, discovering her wide, sapphire eyes.
“No,” she says, and the single soft word has me back in my seat, as if an army general had commanded me.
It’s that precise moment that I realize no matter how hard I fight against my past, I want to make her happy. Every part of me comes alive at the idea of serving and pleasing her. With her hand around my wrist, I see myself at her feet, worshiping everything she is and what she does for me. She’s saving me, I can feel it, even though I don’t want to give it credence, give it hope. I know I’m changing, and after being vacant for so long, I think I want it. Even if I still feel like I don’t deserve it.
I want her to be mine to protect, love, serve and adore.
Pleasing her fulfills me, and I’m fucking terrified by this realization.
“Can you sit in the other seat?” she asks, pushing the box across the table. I move to the seat next to me, and my pulse zips when she sits where I was, right next to me. With one hand, she plucks the glazed donut from the box and the other drops beneath the table, resting atop my thigh.
She eats her donut leisurely, talking about all the blooming fern plants on the opposite side of the shop, and how she’s never had a green thumb. I stare at the way her slender hand looks on my thigh, and out of nowhere, I put my hand on top of hers, and weave our fingers together.
She turns to me, a piece of glaze on her bottom lip. “That’s nice,” she says, wiggling her hand.
“I think so, too,” I say, my voice unusually husky, the gravity of my feelings settling in, twisting up my chest.
“Cohen,” she says quietly, setting the remnants of the donut back in the box. “Will you tuck my hair behind my ear for me?”
With my other hand, I nudge a silky lock off her shoulder, my heart racing. There are spots of green near her pupils in both eyes. I’m noticing now. And her lashes are so long, her lips so full.
“Kiss me,” she whispers, moving our linked hands up my thigh just a little. “Because if I’m ready, it would be with you.”
I glance around the shop. Beautiful plants growing all around us, the slow, hypnotic drip of a fresh brew, sugar and cinnamon hanging in the air. I look down at Scarlett, the beautiful, strong woman that’s pulled me out of my depths while treading water on her own. She’s been scarred and marred by undeserving men, but she’s here, risking the potential for pain again… for me.
I wrap my hand along the curve of her neck, my thumb under her chin. I bring her mouth to mine, fusing our lips. Her mouth parts with a breathy moan, urging me to do the same. The flavor of glazed donut floods my mouth as her tongue sweeps mine lazily. She leans toward me a little, putting a little weight on our joined hands on my thigh. When she breaks the kiss, she runs a finger tip along my bottom lip, smiling.
