Page 12 of Timelessly Ours
Sylvie hired me on the spot.
But I practically signed my own death sentence working in this place. Unlike me, Sylvie drank on the job. And she loved company.
“Nickles! Well, well.” Sylvie throws her rag over her shoulder. Her eyes stay locked on mine when she reaches for the vodka on the shelf and sets in on the bar. “Am I asking Griff for one glass or two?”
Knowing the rules, I toss the bartender my car keys. “Two.”
Present
Exactly twenty-two minutes later, I make my way downstairs. I’m dressed in Angel’s clothes. The one’s she’d left behind before moving in with Jace. My hair is still damp and my coffee is cold.
The oatmeal I’m bringing back down went untouched for the most part.
After a once-over, Royce takes the dishes from me.
“Is there more coffee?”
He glances at the oatmeal before dumping it. “There is. If you have a banana first.”
I’d laugh if I had the energy. “But dad, I don’t want a banana,” I say dryly.
He sucks in a deep breath and pours the hot coffee into my mug like someone is making him drink cough syrup. “Don’t do that,” he mumbles. His fingers brush mine when he sets the mug in my hand.
“Sorry,” I offer, meaning it. “I know. You’re not my enemy. But my fate is pretty much in your hands right now.”
“That’s a little extreme. I’m not going to tell your brother about last night. But we can’t pretend it didn’t happen. Is there…someone you should talk to? Is there a protocol?”
“I don’t want to think about it right now,” I mutter absently.
“Nicole,” he growls in frustration.
My eyes lift to his, my stomach flipping at the gravelly way he says my name.
“I’m sorry,” he offers softly.
I glare at him. “Did you see me flinch?”
“Just because I don’t scare you doesn’t mean I have the right to bark at you.”
Christ, this man. He’s profoundly gorgeous. Now that my head is numb with painkillers, I can appreciate every delicious inch of him. Chiseled jaw, pacific blue eyes, rock-hard body, and a panty-melting scowl that is right up my alley.
I cross my arms in front of me, willing my racing heart to calm the fuck down. I don’t show fear—but I’m terrified. There’s no ignoring what happened. I’d have to start over.
Back to square one.
But before I dwell on that, I can’t shake the image of the way he found me. Jesus why did it have to be him?
And yet…I want to go back to the moment where I was wrapped in his arms just a few minutes ago. Where he held me and let me cry against his chest.
No. No Nicole. That is not who you are. You don’t show vulnerability. You don’t show fear. And you most certainly don’t show loneliness. So snap the fuck out of it and have your coffee while it’s hot.
With that little pep talk, I take a sip.
“What are you thinking about?”
Even hungover, I’m quick on my feet. “It was two years yesterday,” I say just above a whisper.
He turns and grips the edge of his kitchen counter. “I’m sorry. For my part in this. For all of our parts in this.”