Love's Choice (5 page)

“When do you get off work?”

“When my shift ends,” I answered. “Would you like to order or would you mind stepping aside so the other customers can be served?”

Magnus glanced behind him. “I appear to be your sole customer.”

I smiled. “Then would you order?” Before I lost all sense and told Magnus when I get off work. I could only imagine where that would end.

Heaving on the sheets, shuddering in passion.

I swallowed and shifted my hips. I couldn't let that happen. He was dangerous. Remember. Dangerous. Look at his stomach. He has a bandaged wound, and that bruise on his jaw came from being punched. He was fighting. And recently.

I wanted to kiss that bruise until it was better.

The itch grew hotter. I was suddenly so aware of my skin touching my clothing and the hairs rising on my arms. “So, what would you like?” I asked. “I can't stand here flirting with the customers. You'll get me in trouble.”

He leaned over the counter. “Then I would have to swoop in and rescue you again. That seems enticing to me.”

If I leaned closer, I could kiss those lips. My eyes flicked around the cafe. Gerdie sat at Owen's table, a smile on her face as she watched us. Owen nodded at me.
You made your choice.
His words echoed in my head. 

But I hadn't. Having a one night stand, even with a gorgeous Viking like Magnus, wasn't the same as making a choice about dating a guy.

Why not?
my heart seemed to whisper as it hammered away beneath my breasts. Can't you feel that stirring inside of you? When has a man ever made you feel that? 

Just lust. Nothing more. Passionate, animalistic lust.

Then why did you feel so safe in his arms? Why do you want to kiss his bruise and make him feel better? That wasn't lust.

“What do you like?” Magnus asked. “What would you recommend I buy?”

His question startled me out of my reverie. “Umm...” My mind went blank.

“What type of latte or espresso do you see me drinking?”

“Is this like some sort of personality test?” I asked, my mind going blank. What did we serve here? Besides coffee. 

“Something like that,” he grinned. “When you look at me, what type of coffee do you see?”

I couldn't help staring at his muscular chest half-revealed by his leather vest before I flicked back up to his hungry, blue eyes. A grin lolled on his lips. A predator's grin, but casual. I could hunt you now, the smile said, but I'm having too much fun watching you squirm.

God, I wanted him to hunt me. My hips squirmed.

“Iced dark chocolate mocha with a triple shot of espresso,” I answered without thought.

“Dark chocolate?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You're a tough man,” I answered, my words spilling out without thought. I was on pure instinct. “You're strong. Normally, I would say a straight up espresso, no sugar or cream. Black. But, there's more to you than just your tough outside. You're a warrior with a poet lurking in his heart. So you need something more to your coffee. Something sweet and bitter all at the same time. But no whipped cream. Too light and fluffy for you.”

“Why iced? What does that say about me?”

“Nothing. It's just a hot, summer day.”

“Then I'll have an iced dark chocolate mocha with a triple shot of espresso,” he answered, his smile growing.

I smiled back. A moment of weakness before I put on my barista face.

“I'll whip that right up.” I rang up his drink and quoted his price. He pulled out his wallet. Our fingers touched as he handed me the money. I shuddered again. He put his change in the tip jar.

I felt his eyes on me as I made his coffee. I tried to keep my behind from wiggling too much as I moved around. It was hard. I so wanted to wiggle for him. My work slacks weren't that tight, but they still left my butt looking nice and perky.

When I finished pouring his mocha over the ice cubes, I walked back to the counter and handed it over. “I hope you enjoy.”

“I will,” he winked. “You wouldn't pick wrong for me.”

“Such trust you have in me.”

His head nodded. “You're trustworthy, Raven. It's painted on your face.”

My smile returned.

“What time do you get off work?”

“I don't date my customers,” I told him. I had told poor Ben that enough times.

“I'm not a customer.”

I glanced down at his iced mocha. “Then what are you?”

“A man.”

His words were forceful. He wasn't saying, “I'm a man because I have a cock.” He was saying, “I am a capital M Man because I'm strong and passionate, and I know just what you want. If you trust me, I'll give it to you and more. Be my woman.”

He grabbed his coffee and walked to a table. My eyes were fixed on him the entire way. I wanted to go to him and let him be my man. I wanted to take a chance with him. Maybe I would get hurt, or maybe I would find what my mother had in my father.

Magnus pulled out a pen from his pocket and wrote on a napkin while he drank his mocha. What was he writing? Many customers came in to write, and I never had the faintest interest in what nonsense they were typing on their laptops. What could be so important that he would write on a napkin?

Other customers entered. I went through the motions of helping them as I studied Magnus. He sat with his back to me. He crumpled up the first napkin and shoved it into his pocket, ripping a second out of the dispenser. Then a third.

He was struggling with something. His shoulders tensed. He grappled with himself as his pen flew across the napkin. He growled, balling up the third napkin and starting on a fourth. My heart beat faster and faster. His mocha was finished, the ice melting in the clear, plastic cup. His pen flowed down the napkin.

He capped his pen and slipped it into his pocket. Without a word, he stood and strode to the door. My heart tightened. I would never see him again if I let him go. Not because he wouldn't come back, not because I wouldn't go find him. He would die.

Magnus lay broken in the middle of the street, blood trickling out of his mouth. A motorcycle accident.

The bell chimed as he stepped outside. I shivered as the strange premonition passed. He walked to his bike parked before the store, squeezed between two cars. It was illegally parked. Magnus wouldn't care. He revved his engine and roared off.

Did I just make the biggest mistake of my life?

I rushed out from behind the bar to his table. The napkin was there, the small words written with blue ink spilling onto both sides of the thin paper.

To the Beauty of the Night,

I find that my words are failing me. I am striving to express what you are to me. How you crept into my soul and possessed me. They seem so easy in my heart and yet I am frustrated by how clumsy they sound when I write them.

So, instead, I shall quote a better man and hope you will realize his eloquence is only a mere shadow of what I truly wish to convey.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow’d to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair’d the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

Once again, the words of Lord Byron express what I felt when I first saw you, walking on the side of the road in that foggy night. I have never met a woman that stirred my soul. You left not just the motel room but my heart empty when you fled. I want to see your beauty walk the night again. I know you're afraid. Solitude has been my life. I've reached out. You can take my hand or remain alone.

Magnus

PS I will stay in the city until late tonight. If you want, call me and together we shall walk the night. 206-555-4937

Tears burned in my eyes. My hand reached down to my pants to pull out my phone. I kept it off during work and hit the button. My hand shook as I waited for the screen to boot while my eyes read the poem again.

“So you've made your choice?” Owen asked as he sat down at my table.

I nodded. The one-eyed man's face was blurry. I wiped at my tears. “I guess I've made a choice.”

“
The
choice,” Owen said as I dialed the number. 

Chapter Five

Magnus

The Seattle traffic crawled by me as I sat on my Harley. A cacophony of sounds echoed through the street, funneled by the massive buildings that dominated entire blocks of downtown. The traffic crawled down two lanes, cars honking while oblivious pedestrians stepped into traffic staring at their damned smart phones.

I didn't have a smart phone. I had a dumb phone. The screen was green. It was almost a brick. They were getting harder to find these days. Next time I had to get a new phone, I would probably end up with one of those ridiculous phones with a camera.

I smiled; I bet Raven's phone had a camera. It would be one of those touchscreen smart phones with all the bells and whistles. I pictured her curled up on her couch in her pajamas, not pink, maybe a nice lavender, her black hair falling in a loose mess about her shoulders. Tea steamed on the coffee table beside her, a smile twisting the corners of her lips, lit by the bluish light from her screen. Her fingers would be a blur as she texted.

I pulled out my electronic-cigarette. Supposedly, they were healthier than real cigarettes. I inhaled; the smooth, vanilla-scented vapor filled my mouth and lungs. The nicotine flooded my veins. I sighed, savoring the buzz. The twisting in my stomach lessened as I waited for her phone call.

She had to call. I poured my heart out into that note. Nothing was ever harder than sharing what lurked in the dark corners of your soul. I could face Talon and his knife a million times without flinching, but waiting for her to call proved to be so damn difficult.

I took another pull. I missed cigarettes. These flavored scents just didn't have the same harsh, acrid flavor. They were smoother. Healthier. That “healthier” was important. My dad smoked three packs a day. Last year, throat cancer ruined him. It spread to his jaw, and the surgeons had to remove half of it. I couldn't keep smoking the damned things after that.

These e-cigs better be fucking healthier.

But the nicotine was a welcome blessing. I was on the hunt. My prey was skittish, but I was luring her in. I closed my eyes and savored the night I caught her. What a creature she was. My blood boiled for her. You didn't meet a woman that had the guts to claw Talon's face every day. There was no way I would let her get away.

Even in that unflattering uniform she wore, she was a goddess. My dark-haired goddess of the night. Raven was the perfect name for her. They were smart birds. Observant. Fearless. They had a majesty about them. Her parents must have been omniscient or lucky.

I took another drag, holding the vapor in my lungs and then let it out in a mighty exhale. The cloud drifted through the air. A woman on the sidewalk glared at me. She was uptight, wearing a florescent sports bra and a pair of Lycra shorts that gripped a flabby ass as she half-jogged, half-walked down the sidewalk. Her lips curled in a judgmental sneer.

I smiled at her, arching my eyebrow.

She scurried off with a squeak of fear, a little mouse afraid of the wolf. I laughed. Seattle, particularly downtown, was full of uptight busybodies with no idea how to relax. How to be free. They wanted to control everything. You couldn't smoke here. You couldn't park there. You couldn't lounge here. Rules, rules, rules. I hated cities. They were all bad, but Seattle was one of the worst.

But damned if I wouldn't come here every day for her.

Weak men strolled down the street in jeans tighter than the women wore, with their fancy vests and retro hats. They all screamed, “Look at how original I am. I dress like every other idiot in Seattle. Aren't I important?”

I needed to get Raven out of this city. She needed to fly free.

She would love riding on my bike again. I closed my eyes, imagining her lithe figure pressed into my back, her arms around my waist, and the excitement in her voice as I roared my Harley down the road. Her long hair would whip behind her, a trail of darkness. A trail of the night.

That night, Raven had loved riding behind me despite the chill and her skimpy attire.

She didn't belong in this city. She was too strong for it. Too strong to be bound by their stupid rules and petty hysterics.