BARON
“I really wishyou’d quit. You don’t need to work at a place like this.” I tap the button at the crosswalk and check both sides of the street. Sunny peeks past my arm, then sways back to wait for the crossing light to signal us through. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. We’ve had it every time I’ve walked her to work since she moved in last week.
“A place like what? Roasters Coffeehouse is a legitimate place of business and an honest day’s work. It’s bad enough you won’t let me give you money for rent. The least I can do is contribute to groceries.” She hops down from the curb, and I usher her ahead of me, herding her through the crowd like a border collie guarding his prized lamb. No one gets too close. No one touches my Sunny.
“Aww, come on, you know what I mean,” I correct her. “If you were working your poor little fingers to the bone and coming home with swollen feet because you were advancing your craft and gaining experience in art or design, I’d happily shut my mouth. But you’re serving coffee to a bunch of dickhead students and bougie jackasses who spend so much time hitting on you they hold up the line and make you get in trouble with your boss.” I skip a step and trip over my feet, fearing I’ve said far too much. She doesn’t know I saw the whole fucking thing from the rented workspace across the street---the one my security guy, Roman, finagled from a man who owed him a favor. He’s up there now, eating snacks, checking my listening devices, cleaning my binoculars, and waiting for me to arrive.
She grabs my sleeve and pops her head straight up---eyes narrowed, lips pursed, and brows furrowed deep in thought. “What did you say? I never told you someone was hitting on me.”
I hate not being honest with her, but I’m not ready to come clean. I loll my head back and offer a lazy smile. “You don’t need to say a word. Of course, men hit on you. You’re breathtaking.”
“Did I tell you my boss got after me?” She pulls her wool shawl over her head and removes her gloves.
“You did.” She didn’t. I heard it through Roman’s listening device and nearly bought the place for the sole purpose of firing that jerk.
“Can you hold my shawl until I get off from work? Unless you’re not coming back at 6. I don’t want the fabric to become saturated with the scent of coffee. It’s one of my favorites.”
I tuck it neatly into my satchel and nod. “I’ll be back. But I’m serious about you quitting. They don’t pay you early enough to keep you from all the cool stuff we could be doing together, and besides, you should be painting.” I spread my arms, and she jumps into my greedy embrace. I hold her tight, dangling her wiggling feet off the sidewalk until I get my fill or until she tenses awkwardly, and it gets weird.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done, Baron. I love the house, room, and tiny commute, and I’m enjoying hanging out with you. But don’t you miss L.A.?” She takes a step back and opens the door to the coffeehouse. A couple exiting stop to examine my face, and I’m confident they recognize me through my cap and sunglasses, but it’s New York and uncouth to stop celebrities on the street.
“I don’t miss any of it,” I assure her. “And I enjoy spending time with you. I think I would have been bored out of my mind if you hadn’t moved in. You get out at 6:00, right?” I pretend to be spontaneous. “It’s Saturday. Let’s do something fun. I bet you haven’t done much sightseeing.”
She shakes her head and smiles. “I haven’t had time yet.”
“We’ll make time tonight. Think about the cheesiest, more touristy New York things you want to do and text me. I’ll make them happen.” I lean close and kiss her on the forehead, my boldest move to date.
“I will,” she whispers and brings her brown eyes to mine. My heart flutters with love, and paragraphs of words, poetry, and sonnets clog my tight throat and render me speechless. She’s been one floor above me for a whole week---footprints tormenting me. Legs, toes and long dark hair torture me by simply existing. I thought I could handle taking it slow, but I was a fool. It’s not enough to have her in my house. I spend all day watching her while she’s gone, making sure she’s okay, guarding her like a jealous dog who won’t share his favorite toy.
But she’s not my toy. And she’ll never be anything to me if I don’t get my head out of my ass and tell her how I feel.
Just not today.
“I’ll see you at 6:00.” I stammer and swallow the saliva flooding my mouth.
“6:00...” She bats her long black eyelashes and disappears behind the door, taking my heart with her.
* * *
“What’s going on?” I stomp into the near-empty office space, toss my coat on the floor and drag my ass to the cracked window sill facing the coffeehouse across the street. Roman, my head of security and the only person I trust to watch Sunny if I’m not around, hands me a pair of headphones.
“Dude, she just started work. Give her a chance to do something interesting.” He connects my wire to a long-range listening device shaped like a tiny satellite and instructs me where to point it. “You know this is nuts, right? She’s not in any danger. As far as I can tell, she’s just selling coffee and muffins.”
“What else am I going to do?” I wedge a pillow under my ass and get comfortable. “I spent the last three months longing to see her, wishing I could leave Los Angeles and move here to be with her, and now I’m here, and I have her all to myself. By some lucky chance, she’s in my house, singing in the shower, spritzing perfume that lingers in my halls, washing her tiny panties with my t-shirts, and shaking her ass while she dices tomatoes in my kitchen. Do you know what that does to a man in my position---madly in love with a woman he can’t touch? Look at my wrist.” I place my hand at Roman’s eye level.
“What? I see nothing. Is that a manicure?” He inspects closer than I expected.
“Yes, but it’s old. The studios make you get them. And for your information, my wrist is killing me. And do you know why it’s killing me?” I massage the muscle leading to my forearm.
“Have you been choking the chicken?” He smirks with minimal sympathy.
“Bingo.” I tap my nose, mixing metaphors while aiming my satellite on Sunny. “So, I’m either here or increasing my chances of getting carpal tunnel syndrome from another five rounds of spanking the monkey. Besides, watching her makes me happy.”
I lean into the window and rest the device on the sill. Sunny’s sweet voice comes through over the coffeehouse chatter, and my heart races with the excitement of a teenager, anxious to hear more. She murmurs pleasantries to a customer, reciting menu items and clarifying what kind of milk they’d like to use. He replies, then makes a fresh remark about her smile. She ignores him and asks him how he’d like to pay, but he doesn’t take the hint. He repeats his compliment with an angry tone and expects her to answer. I clench my fists and bite the inside of my cheek until it bleeds, enraged that I can’t punch my way to the front of the counter and beat him to a pulp.
“Settle down, cowboy.” Roman taps my shoulder and moves his hand in a downward motion. “She can take care of herself. You’ll blow your cover and piss her off. Besides, this other guy has it covered.”
I listen closer. A second male voice appears, but it’s unclear if he’s a customer or another employee. He compliments the offending man’s smile and insists he answer with the proper thank you or risk hurting his feelings. The asshole balks and stammers while patrons laugh, making him flee the premises to the sound of jeers. When the noise dies down, Sunny heaps heartfelt gratitude on the hero, and my jaw hits the fucking floor.
“Goddamn it, Roman!” I lunge to one side and snake my arms around his neck. My headphones fly off. His legs encase my thighs and hold me in a deadly grip--no one gives an inch. He’s far stronger than me, but I’m closer to his throat and technically his boss.
“You’re being ridiculous. There’s no way you would have made it there on time.” He tries to reason with an irrational man. “And why the hell can’t you touch her? You say you love her. She lives in your house and talks about you all the time. She’s talking about you right now!” He snaps his headphones and shushes me.
I roll on my side and squirm out of his strange bearhug. My headphones are too tangled to fasten over my head, but I fix one side to my ear just in time to hear Sunny’s giggles through the high-pitched shriek of the foam steamer. My heart dances with curiosity, wondering if she’ll truly mention me. I shouldn’t listen. I don’t watch her to spy on her private moments with friends. I know that doesn’t make sense, but I teeter on a fine line between right and wrong, and I’m seconds from crossing it.
“Is this a date? He sounds yummy.” A female voice asks the question.
“He’s so much more than that. He’s funny and sweet and kind and smarter than many people give him credit for and...and...” she prattles and crams me into the friend zone. My stomach churns with acid, then twists in tight knots, listening to my worst nightmare come true. I don’t want to be her friend.
“And oh, my God, he so fucking hot I’m going out of my mind wondering if he’ll ever make a pass at me!” Sunny’s groan, words, and the hunger in her voice make my cock jump to attention. I yank the headset off my ears and jump to my feet.
“Why did you take them off? She’s still talking!” Roman listens with intent, smiling, laughing, and mocking my anxiety.
I shake my head and pace. “That’s not for my ears. I regret listening. I’m glad I know, but I invaded her privacy, and I can’t hear more. What is she saying? No, don’t tell me. I need to make my move, Roman. Sunny’s waiting for me to make my move. I can’t keep my girl waiting for kisses and dips and ass-grabs when these hands yearn to touch every inch of her hot little body. Jesus Christ, what is she saying?” I stop pacing to punch the air.
“Holy shit. Did you steal a pair of her panties?” Roman scolds and glares with astonishment.
I nod and drop my shoulders in shame. “Clearly, I’m a monster.”