“Sorry.” I pretend that I actually mean it, holding my spatula in the air, my own smile giving me away.
“Is that egg on the vent?” she asks curiously, launching Larsen into another round of laughter.
Instinctively I use my free arm to tug her close. She buries her head against my chest, wraps her arms around my waist, and continues her incessant giggles. Something about holding her like this feels better than any Academy Award I’ve ever held in my grasp, and I’ve been the recipient of three. It’s not just that I get to hold her close, that’s actually the farthest thing from the reason that this feels so indescribable; it’s that I’m the reason she’s in the midst of such joy, such elation.
My heart putters in my chest then blasts to full speed. I can almost hear it pulsating in my head over the chuckles muffled by my shirt.
Looking over Joanne’s shoulder, I see Jeff sitting in his usual booth with a checkbook in front of him, but he looks over and smiles. He has a direct line of sight to Larsen and me. And it’s not just any kind of grin. It’s that kind of grin you see from a father as he walks his daughter down the aisle and gives her to her beloved. The type of grin when he holds his grandchild for the first time and watches his daughter sleep peacefully from pure exhaustion. It’s the smile reflected when he watches his daughter face her fear and come out on top.
When his eyes reach mine, I try to return his smirk, but I’m sure that I fail. It’s not that I’m not happy at this moment, because I definitely am, but the pressure to keep Larsen in this bubble of happiness is almost too much. I won’t be here too much longer, and I’m afraid that we’ll simply grow apart as most people do.
As my gaze moves away from Jeff, I take notice of the handsome male sitting at the counter, the same one that had a possessive glare on Larsen the other day. Cole, I believe Jeff called him. Without premonition, I challenge his gaze with one of my own, narrowing my eyes toward him, letting this stranger know that she is mine. I lie with everything that I am.
“Oh my, I haven’t laughed that hard in forever.” Larsen finally peeks her head up from my chest, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes, cheeks rosy from exertion, and a smile reaching across both edges of her jaw. I swear to all that is Holy I have never seen someone look so beautiful before.
The crowd outside the kitchen fade
s away as my sole focus turns to Larsen. She has her hair pulled into an elastic at the top of her head and I reach up, tugging the band free from its confines. She quiets as I run my fingers through her hair, combing the luxurious soft waves, fanning it around her shoulders. A possession takes over me as she slides her hands from my waist to rest on my chest. She probably means to gain some space between us, but instead, I take it as an invitation. I move slowly, giving her the chance to push me away, but I’m only met with wide and curious eyes. The second my lips feel the softness of hers an explosion of our worlds materializes. Everything I’ve ever gone through has led to this instance, this perfection. And I can tell she senses the same.
Placing my hand at the base of her head, I use her hair to tilt her face toward mine and capture her lips between mine. I lose all rational thought as her tongue sneaks out to taste my mouth. I walk her backward until she’s wedged between me and the grease covered wall. She’ll probably regret this in a moment, but I don’t think about that, all of my focus is on the perfection of our kiss. Our dueling tongues, clashing for the chance to explore the other’s mouth, sparing for the upper hand in tasting the other’s flavor. Even during the kiss, I take the opportunity to breathe her in. She’s like a warm taste of whiskey; smooth and fragrant with that after lying lingering punch in the throat.
Larsen moans and I capture that flawless sound in my mouth, taking pleasure in the erotic noise. My free hand reaches down to the hem of her shirt and I slip it underneath, resting my palm against the satiny skin of her waist. Her hands fist, gathering my shirt in her hold, pulling me as close as our two bodies will allow.
We’re lost in the scene, so engrossed in each other and the rightness of our kiss that we only break apart at the sound of catcalls and claps from the other room. My eyes open and I’m hurt and surprised when I don’t find the lust and passion in Larsen’s; instead, hers are swirling with a mix of embarrassment and what I translate as regret.
Fuck.
Before I can get a second to apologize, Larsen sprints away from me and out of the diner through the back door. In confusion, I look over to the crowd who all seem to have turned their attention away from the kitchen and pin their eyes on whatever they have in front of them. Everyone except for the guy at the counter, burning a hole in the side of my head, and Jeff who looks at me in apology.
Silently I ask if he wants me to go after Larsen, but he answers by shaking his head and exiting the diner, leaving his checkbook and bills on the table.
One of the twins enters the kitchen, grabs the spatula I left haphazardly resting on the griddle, and claps his free hand on my shoulder as he takes over the reins.
“Man, what did I do?” I ask him, but really, I’m asking anyone that can offer some insight.
“Nothing, that was all on us. Sorry, my man,” he says as he goes to cleaning off my egg mess on the vent.
The waitress, Joanne, steps into the kitchen with a few empty plates. “Sorry, Devyn,” she apologizes as she steps past me toward the industrial sink. “We all got a bit overzealous in our excitement. We just want her to have her happily ever after, you know?”
I blanche at her words. It was just a kiss after all. I have nothing to offer her. “I’m. . .we’re not. . .” I stutter, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Hey, I just meant that you let her realize that it’s okay to feel something. She’s been living in an emotional coffin for so long I think she forgot what it feels like to feel alive.”
Considering what little I know of Larsen I can’t really imagine how it must have felt to know that you can feel something other than contentment.
But don’t I?
Because I’ve never felt like this about anyone the same way that I have for Larsen in such a short time, just a day or so really. It’s almost as strong as I feel toward this upcoming project, if not more. And fuck, that is not going to help me stay focused, but I’m not sure I can turn it off even if I tried.
“Is she coming back?”
“Probably not. But you’re welcome to hang around if you want. Or there is a great state park about half an hour from here.”
My favorite pastime pops into my mind so I don’t hesitate to ask. “What about a library?”
“Sure. It’s Sunday so it’s closed, but I can get you the keys. After all, the mayor has access to every building in town.”
“If it’s not a problem, I would be grateful.”