Smother (33 page)

“Can I make spinach smoothies?” Along with the no alcohol or cigarette rule, she was trying to eat healthier. While googling smoothie ingredient options online, she’d found a lot that involved vegetables and fruit. They were surprisingly good.

Liz recoiled. “What?”

She would fit in here better than she could anywhere else, except for maybe with Leo. Space was good, and they needed theirs like everyone else. He had his career, and really, it was better that she wasn’t there while he was working, since she got jealous easily. She trusted him, but she hated the thought of anyone getting any of him, even his designs. She wanted all of him. She wasn’t good at sharing.

“Spinach smoothies. They’re good.”

“This is a coffee shop, not a health food store.”

“Sampler day every Saturday?”

Liz sighed. “You’re pushing it.”

Reese waited. She’d take the job either way. She had money in savings, but those funds were dwindling as the days went, and she needed to replenish them.

“Fine,” she snapped. “We’ll try it. But if they’re a horrible failure, never again. Got it?”

She looked at her potential new boss, feeling like she should warn her one more time. “Got it. Just so you know, I can be rude. Cranky.”

“I hadn’t noticed that.” Liz’s expression was deadpan.

Reese laughed softly, shrugging as she said, “Okay. When do I start?”

“Now. Welcome to your new job, Reese.” She called out, “Tina, we got fresh meat.”

Tina raced from the kitchen area and squealed as she tackled Reese in a tight hug. “Yay! You can teach me how to make that raspberry vanilla smoothie and we need a name for it. We’re going to have so much fun.” She bounced on her toes, her fruity scent swirling around them.

Reese awkwardly hugged her back, but she was smiling as she did so. “That we are.” She patted her back. “You can let go now. Huggy time is over.”

Face aglow and a bright grin in place, Tina pulled back and dropped her arms as she stepped away. “I like you, Reese.”

She snorted. “You don’t know me.”

“Sure I do. And I like you.” Her voice was firm, as was the expression on her face.

“Okay.” She shrugged. “Like away. I like you too,” she added.

Tina grinned.

“Do you hear that? Shut up!” Liz flung her hands in the air, excitement making her eyes sparkle. She looked at Reese. “Do you hear this song?” She grabbed her hands and dragged her out from behind the counter.

“This is our song. The anthem to which we work by here.”
She looked at Tina. “Turn it up. It’s dance time, ladies!”

The song was ‘Here’s To Us’ by Halestorm, and Reese agreed; it was catchy, but she wasn’t dancing. Tina and Liz began clapping to the beat, their hips moving back and forth.

She watched them with crossed arms and a grin pulling at her mouth. “You guys are doing great. Keep up the good work.”

“Reese, if you don’t start dancing, I’m going to withhold your paycheck indefinitely.”

“What am I making an hour?”

“Nine dollars.”

Reese shrugged. “Go ahead, it isn’t that much anyway.”

Tina laughed, then clapped a hand over her mouth when Liz turned her squinting eyes on her. Liz refocused her attention on Reese. “Think of it as an initiation. The last customer left and we’re the only ones here right now. Hurry up, before the song’s done.”

Reese brushed bangs from her eyes and grumbled to herself as she made a halfhearted attempt at dancing. Liz had such an encouraging look on her face that she laughed and moved her hips from side to side. Tina was into the music, bopping up and down while singing along in an off-key voice. She bumped her hip to Reese’s and Reese stumbled into a chair, which made Tina laugh.

This is what life should be about,
she thought as she danced with her new coworkers. Her steps lightened as her mind did, and Reese took a little bit of herself back in the simplicity of being able to enjoy something. This was fun. She could do fun. She relaxed and let the music take over.

She enjoyed the comradery of three women with nothing between them but now. No past, no regrets. This was her life, and she could make it good. She had that power. She smiled, liking this better version of her.

I see Reese unraveling. Changing. Becoming what she wants to be instead of what she thinks she has to be. Falling into the darkness so that she can burst through with light. We are all fighting our battles, and all of them start from within. ~ Leo

It was Christmas. This day used to bring dread and terror. It was a day where gifts were given for atrocities performed during the night. She’d hated Christmas, hated the presents, hated everything about it from the supposed gift of giving, to the true act of taking. Every gift had a price, and that price was the light in her eyes.

But not today, not this Christmas.

Today she was with Leo.

She’d told him no when he said he wanted to spend the day with her. Then he’d stared at her until she’d consented. It was hard to step around one’s own boundaries, to do that which brought fear, to want things.

Reese began to notice the finer details about him—the most he gave for a smile was the ghost of one. She wondered what his impulsive laughter sounded like. She imagined it was husky and rich. His eyes were an overcast day, when storms and rain were on the horizon. Tumultuous, expressive. His nose was straight and long. And his lips, at first thought to be thin, were strong. The cheekbones she’d thought too sharp were artful carvings of bone structured just right to amplify the deep set of his eyes.

Leo showed up with two cups with lids, and dark, soulful eyes that looked straight into her heart. From his stocking cap to his boots, he was dressed in black. That and his perpetually somber disposition was downright depressing.

“Who died?” she asked as she accepted the warm cup with ‘Liz’s’ scrolled across the pink cup in white.

“Your bad attitude.”

Reese paused with the cup almost to her lips, taken aback by the innocent light in his eyes. “Note to self: Leo is not just bad at jokes—he is super bad at them. Is this how you act in the mornings when you don’t get enough sleep?”

“It’s Christmas,” was his answer.

“That it is. That explains the black. Cheers.” She bumped her cup to his. “The coffee shop is open on Christmas Day? She didn’t tell me that. Doesn’t Liz have better things to do today?”

“Just till eleven.” He nodded at her cup. “Try it.”

“Why? Is it spiked with something?” Leo looked at her and Reese complied. It was a heavenly blend of vanilla, chocolate, and cinnamon, like sugary snowflakes on the tongue. She looked at Leo. “I made this.”

He nodded. “It’s good. Liz said they’re getting lots of requests for it.”

She wanted to grin, desperately. Her shoulders lifted with lightness and her stomach flipped like tiny little butterflies were flapping their wings inside. “Did they name it?”

“‘Christmas Spirit.’”

“That was—that’s what I suggested.”

“Your name’s on the board next to it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“It’s embarrassing how much that makes me happy,” she admitted, throat tight with emotion.

He sipped his drink, in typical Leo fashion not speaking.

“What about the spinach smoothies? Did she mention those?” It was still under debate whether or not those would be staying on the menu. The success of them was about fifty-fifty.

“She did.” He paused. “I’m not trying one of those, sorry.”

She laughed, one shoulder lifting and lowering. “Can you do something for me?”

With his cup paused near his mouth, Leo’s gaze locked on her. “What?”

Nervous, she moved her cup back and forth between her hands before setting it down on the small table. “Can you tattoo me?”

“No,” was his immediate, abrupt response.

“I want my bird, Leo,” she told him.

His lips twitched. “You have your bird, on the necklace around your neck, and on your living room wall.”

As soon as he’d given her the bird drawing, she’d framed it and hung it up above her couch. She looked at it daily, studying and thinking. It was odd, but she seemed to gather strength from it as well.

“I want it on me.” She lifted an eyebrow, daring him to tell her no again.

“Why?”

“So I know it’s a part of me, so I feel it when I need to,” she told him honestly. “You said your tattoos are symbols to remind you of things. I want the same.”

Leo set his cup down. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She blinked, surprised by how easily he’d relented. She shouldn’t be. He understood her, and when he didn’t, he asked until he did.

“When do you want it?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking maybe in a year?”

Frown lines formed between his eyebrows.

Reese smiled. “I didn’t say I wanted it now, just . . . someday. When I’m ready, in here.” She tapped her head. “And here.” She tapped her heart. “Oh, and here.” She reached around to pat the space between her shoulder blades where she’d decided her bird should go. Her sister’s name would be beneath it.

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. She hugged him back, thinking hugs weren’t given enough credit. She’d take a million of Leo’s hugs. She’d even take his silence, because it was peaceful. There were days when she struggled to not feel wrong about wanting peace, and on those days, she had to remind herself that it was okay to not feel bad all the time.

Leo quieted the noise, brought calmness, and that was the greatest gift anyone could give her. Nothing bought, not even made, just him, being. He squeezed her tighter. “What do you want to do today?”

“I don’t know.” Reese pulled away, walking toward the living room as she said, “Today is supposed to be special.”

He followed at a slower pace, stopping beside the archway to rest his shoulder against it. “You’re not religious,” he pointed out.

She turned to face him. “That doesn’t mean I don’t know things, or believe things.”

Leo waited.

“Let’s make it special—for us.”

Reese didn’t have a Christmas tree or decorations. No lights twinkling from the side of her house or windows. She didn’t want presents. All of that crap brought on bad memories. She wanted something meaningful, something that would outlast all the material items generally clumped together with the holiday.

“We can start our own tradition. I mean—” She went still. Traditions meant family, families meant permanence. Forever.

He crossed the room to her, grabbing her hands and looking down at them. “Haven’t had traditions since I was nine. I’d like that.” Leo looked up, holding her immobile with his expressive eyes. “You’re my family now. Whatever else, that won’t change.”

She smiled, but emotion splintered it. She tugged her hands away. “I now know why you try not to say much.”

Leo tilted his head.

“Your words are powerful.” Reese pressed a hand to her chest. “Shot right through the heart.”

“I don’t want to make you hurt.”

“It’s a good hurt,” she promised, dropping her hand.

He allowed a faint smile to grace his lips before dipping forward to steal her breath with a kiss. His lips tasted like coffee and chocolate, a perfect combination of bitter and sweet. Night after night they slept beside one another, and never once was it taken to a level she couldn’t emotionally deal with. At first the concept was weird and foreign, and made her restless. That wasn’t what a man and a woman were supposed to do together—or maybe it was. Everyone else could have it wrong and Leo could be the lone one to have it right.

There was no pressure. Nothing was expected of her. She enjoyed the uncomplicatedness of it, looked forward to merely being held as she slept. There was security in that.

That was something to hold on to, something that had worth.

Leo’s hands moved to her jaw as the kiss went from soft to hungry, his body taut against hers. He surrounded her, infiltrated her senses, turned all of her into a mass of need. His warmth, his scent, the feel of him—it took over everything until it was all she knew. Somehow, knowing she turned him on but that he wouldn’t act on it, empowered her in a way she never thought possible.

He was waiting for her, he was strong for her.

Leo broke away, his face an image of desire. It put flames in his eyes, flared his nostrils, turned his mouth hard with yearning. If she had any kind of artistic talent, this was how she would choose to draw him. Passionate. Fierce. Trying so hard to remain in control.

Chest rising and lowering, he took a step back, and another, until they were no longer within touching distance.

“What—” He struggled to speak and Reese smiled at the crack in his self-discipline. Rubbing his face, he asked, “What tradition do you want to start?” Leo dropped his hands when she didn’t respond.

Reese tilted her head in thought, moving her gaze to his when inspiration struck. “Tell me ten things. It can be anything. Things you like, things you don’t, things you want to do, or don’t. Ten details about secretive, quiet Leo Chavez.”

“Sounds like an inquisition, not a tradition.”

She plopped down on the couch and put her legs on the coffee table. Reese studied her pink socks as she listened to the clock tick off the seconds. When two minutes passed, she sighed. “Wow, is it really so hard? I’ll do the same.”