Page 7 of Eden's Joker

The videos and the selfies don’t do him justice. He’s built like a soldier without being bulky, the muscles of his arms and chest curving in perfect rolling hills like the countryside that surrounds my hometown. The black t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing look like they were tailored just for him. His clothes are black, his hair and beard are also, and the tattoos covering most of his skin are too. But his eyes are like the sky at dawn,just before the sun rises and makes everything better. He’s the perfect play of night and day, light and dark.

“Yes, and I’m all yours,” he says and lets his eyes linger on mine for another second, holding a spark that plainly tells me he means those words completely.

Then he takes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the top of my wrist like a perfect gentleman. The heat that passes thorough me at the touch of his lips on my skin has nothing on the one his gaze already woke in me.

“Wow,” I whisper without meaning to. And feel my cheeks grow crimson as he looks up at me and chuckles.

“I was just gonna say that,” he says and checks me out once more, again leaving no doubt in my mind that he’s telling the absolute truth.

I have never enchanted a man this hard. At least not to my knowledge. And I’ve never been this enchanted by one either.

“We should probably sit down,” he says, glancing around.

The few people in here are staring at us. I clear my throat, nod, and bump into the spindly metal table pretty hard as I sit. It sends my cup of tea wobbling and the light golden liquid sloshing around threatening to spill all over the pretty lacy tablecloth. Not to mention the flower-adorned white summer dress I’m wearing.

His hand darts out to steady the cup with the precision of a cat striking its prey. He chuckles at myloud sigh of relief and brings the cup to his nose as he sits down.

“What is this? Chamomile?” he asks, and I feel my cheeks heat up even more. Only this isn’t the pleasant heat of having him gaze at me or kiss my hand. This is pure red-hot embarrassment. Between the good girl dress I’m wearing and the tea I’m drinking he’s gonna think I’m just a boring bookworm like everyone else does. What was I thinking dressing like this and ordering tea?

“What can I say, I was nervous to meet you,” I say and give him one of those all over looks he’s been giving me since he got here. “And for good reason, I now see. You got it in you to sweep a girl off her feet. And more.”

His dawn blue eyes widen as though I surprised him with my forwardness. Good. Because I’m a lot more than just a quiet girl who likes to read a lot. The wild streak that runs in my family didn’t get lost on me like everyone thinks. It just runs deeper under the surface. But I think he’ll help me find it.

The tables and chairs in this place are tiny and he’s sitting so close our knees are almost touching. His scent is mixing with the chamomile and jasmine in the air, a heady aroma of summer wind, the open road and danger. I’ve never been so drawn to a guy I just met before. Especially not a biker. Maybe that’s because I’ve been around them my whole life, and they’vealways been off limits, so I’ve developed a way to just tune them out. Or maybe I’m just picky.

“You fit right into this place,” he says, glancing around. “Do you come here often?”

Oh, no. He’s already starting to see me like everyone else does. A boring bookworm, her nose always stuck in a book.

“About once a month, give or take,” I say. “Well, not this place specifically. But there’s a pastry shop down the road and they make the best cherry pie in the world. Their homemade vanilla ice-cream is out of this world too.”

Now he’s looking at me like I’m a scoop of that vanilla ice cream. Or is that just what I want to see?

“You must really love living in a dreamy place like this,” he says and chuckles.

He gazes past my head in the direction of the street and at all the fun houses lining it.

“Oh, I don’t actually live here,” I say and feel myself blushing again. “I just thought it’d be a cool place to meet up.”

I almost said, “For our first date.” Thank God I managed not to. As it is, the wordcoolcame out really forced from my mouth. Like I wouldn’t know the first thing about what cool is. He narrows his eyes at me, a small smile playing across his lips, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. It could be anything. But it’s probably that I’m a total loser. What else?

“You didn’t want to meet in your hometown, so I wouldn’t know where you live,” he says. “Smart girl.”

For a split second his eyes turn very dangerous. Like the sun glinting off ice when you’re all alone in a desolate winter wonderland. Maybe he’s telling me the truth. But I’m due some danger. I’ve been playing it safe my whole life.

“I love this town. Besides, back home isn’t what it used to be,” I say. “This is more like it.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Not what it used to be? I thought these sleepy northern Cali towns were all the same. Quaint, quiet, and pleasant.”

Does he know I’m from Pleasantville? I try to remember if I ever mentioned it to him. Or in one of my videos. But I must have.

“Yes, it is nice there. A little crowded lately, with all the city folks moving to the country.”

He nods knowingly. “Lots of that happening everywhere.”

“And what are towns on the east coast like?” I ask. “Just as quaint and pleasant as here?”

“A little rougher,” he says and winks at me. “Not as soft as here.”

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