Page 12 of Troubles

8

Aidan

She comes in a couple hours after I open for the day. It’s been weeks since we had dinner. Since I left her at her door with just that kiss. It’s been playing on a loop in my fucking mind.

School is her priority, she was clear on that. Very clear. And I respect that and her need to devote time and energy to her studies. I waited a full week before I texted her, other than the one I sent the next morning telling her how much I enjoyed our evening. But she didn’t respond. Since then, I’ve spent a lot of time talking myself out of pursuing her. A lot of really good reasons to let this thing go. I’m not long for this small town.

The photo shoots I’ve picked up over the past couple weeks have gotten me noticed again by the right people. Maybe it’s too soon to get back to it? It’s been less than six months since I stepped away from my camera, from my career. My family—Michael and his wife— were so much more important at the time, but if I wait any longer, it’ll be that much harder to get back to it. I can’t lose momentum again.

But, this girl.

She settles in at the corner of the bar, dropping her bag on the chair next to her. The push and pull of her is bloody confusing. I make my way over to her, wiping the bar as I go. “Wasn’t sure I’d see you again. You weren’t avoiding me, then, were you?” Christ. Where the fuck did that come from?

“Sorry. It’s been crazy. I…” She sighs pointing to the Guinness tap, her head tilting to the left just a little. “I had tons of work this week and spent every last minute in the hospital. I’m exhausted. I don’t know if I’m gonna make it.”

Hospital? “Are you all right?” I reach across the bar for her wrist, my thumb automatically caressing the tender skin that I love. I’ve completely forgotten all about letting things go.

“No. I’m fine, it was for school. I had clinical hours I had to do, but they assigned me nights.” She takes a long pull from her pint. “I know I’ll have to work them when I start for real, but I don’t know how I’ll make it. My days and nights are so screwed up.”

I watch a yawn roll over her and take control of her entire body. “And I have to work at the bar tonight.” Her wrist slides from my hand as she pulls her shoulders back. She sweeps her hair up off her neck and arches her back, pushing her chest out toward me.

I can’t think. All I can do is stand here staring at her, my eyes raking down the graceful line of her neck—across her delicate collarbone, to the swell of her tits straining under the confines of her top. Jesus. I want to trace that line with my tongue. I want to taste her skin—touch, feel, nip at every part of her. She has no idea what she does to me—making me want things I have no business wanting.

Bracing myself on the bar, knuckles white from gripping so hard, I dig deep to find some semblance of control. I clear my throat, interrupting the sensual show in front of me. Lis looks suddenly embarrassed, like she just now realizes her effect on me.

“How long does your crazy schedule last?” I ask. “Will it be like that for weeks? Months?” I don’t like the idea of her so tired, so worn out. But really, I’m selfish—I want to know if I can see more of her.

She shivers as she pulls her computer out of her bag. “This rotation is done for now. I’ll have to do another over the summer and again in the fall. I’m just so tired,” she manages to get out as another yawn takes over—her skin pebbling up with chill bumps. “Sorry, I can’t seem to stop that—is it cold in here? I’m freezing.”

I grab a couple mugs and pour us each a cup of coffee. The sweet contented smile that spreads its way across her face as she wraps her hands around the porcelain is intoxicating. I could fucking get lost in that. “Lisbeth, what can I do for you? Can you not take the night off—sleep a little?” She just shakes her head, wrapping herself more tightly around the warm mug. The tension is starting to leave her body and she looks like she might fall asleep on the bar. “You need to go home and take a nap, love.” God how I would love to join her, though she really needs to sleep and if I were there…

She flicks her eyes up to the clock above the bar and grimaces. “I have to submit my clinical notes by one o’clock. Do you mind if I do it here? And can I have some fries?” She’s grabbing for her coffee more than her pint at this point. I refill her mug and head to the kitchen to make her some lunch—she needs more than a basket of chips to keep her going.

There’s not a lot I can do to help, but I can feed her, maybe keep her warm. She’s stopped typing and is practically falling asleep with her cheek resting on the heal of her hand and her eyes glazing over. I slide her laptop out of the way, and set down her plate. I grab my jacket from behind the bar and gently place my hand between her shoulders. She mumbles, “…’m awake…” as she sits up and scrubs her hand up and down her face. She was clearly not awake.

I wrap her in my jacket, rubbing her arms to warm her up. “I thought you could use more than just a snack, love.” Pulling her hair free of the collar, I caress the side of her neck, lingering just behind her ear. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I want to lose myself in this spot.

She stills, holding her breath a moment before releasing a shaky breath. But instead of leaning into me, she pulls away.

“Th-thank you.”

Nodding, I step back behind the bar to give her some space. “Sure. Let me know what else I can get for you.” Not what I wanted. I rattled her, and maybe even scared her off.

I busy myself stocking the bar for the evening, lost a little in my head. Is she pulling back because of that arsehole? The bastard that fucked her sister? It seems different, more than that. Maybe it’s me.

I clear her plate and refill her coffee while she works. It’s just been the two of us here this whole time, and it’s been fucking torture. I spend as much time as I can in the kitchen and stockroom, cleaning counters that are already spotless. Straightening liquor bottles that I’ve already alphabetized. Am I avoiding her? Hiding from this pull I feel?

I hear her putting her computer away, zipping up her bag. I need to do something, say something to make the awkwardness go away. “Are you finished, then?”

She meets my eyes, as she slides off the barstool. I dump her pint glass into the sink and wipe down the already clean bar. “I think so. I got everything sent to my professors so we’ll see. What do I owe you?” she asks as she digs through her bag for her wallet.

“Not a thing.” She moves both of her eyebrows up and opens her mouth to protest. “This one’s on me.” I chuck the bar rag over my shoulder and cross my arms over my chest, hoping I’m giving out that there’s no room for negotiation. She blows a lock of hair out of her eyes and just stares. She really does not do well with others caring for her.

“I can’t let you do that. I feel so much better than when I walked in here earlier. Please let me pay you, Aidan.”

I glance at my watch and look her straight in the eye. I’m pushing this a little, probably more than necessary, but she’s dead on her feet. The need to take care of her drives me. When she starts to fidget, I lean toward her. “Go home and rest. Let me just do this for you. We’ll figure out a way for you to pay me back later.”

Her wheels are spinning and I can see the battle she’s waging inside. “Okay. Thank you.” She pinches her brows together and screws her mouth up on one side. Another deep breath and she relaxes as she lets it go. She gives me a quick nod and turns to leave. I watch as she hefts her bag higher on her shoulder and heads out the door—still wrapped in my jacket.

---