Page 9 of In the Grey of Dawn

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The night is slow and steady. At least half a dozen locals are scattered across the room. Some sit directly at the bar which curves along one side of the large space. It allows me to walk the length of the room freely rather than bump into people all the time when we’re busy.

I'm constantly scanning to make sure everyone behaves and stays respectful. My bar is definitely on the more casual side of establishments within Hidden Valley, but it doesn't mean there aren't any rules.

Within these walls, I am the judge, jury and executioner. Every local knows what to expect when they step across the threshold, and every tourist learns quickly and usually the hard way if they step out of line.

A couple sits in one of the booths along the wall opposite the bar, waiting in hushed conversation as their dinner is prepared by the kitchen staff. The space between the bar and booths is scattered with tables and chairs, leaving more room for diners to sit and enjoy a meal, and more capacity for dancing in the empty space by the entrance. For once I'm not complainingthat it's a slow night because I'm all that's running the front of house, and if my two other girls quit on me, I'm going to be screwed harder than a virgin in an orgy.

Taking a final scan of the room I reluctantly turn my back and start taking a quick stock check of the hard liquors we have displayed on the mirrored wall behind the bar, noting a few whiskeys are on the low side. The entrance to the cellar is annoying to access when it's busy as you have to prop the door open in the floor space behind the bar. It's near impossible to do when we're open but because we're so quiet tonight I may as well make use of the time I have and restock a few bottles.

Stuffing the list into my pocket, I kneel down to grab the latch when I hear the hard slam of the entrance door closing. A shadow flickers past me and it must be whoever walked in needing a drink.

Looking up, I'm convinced it's an illusion. My memories of her at the wedding no longer do her justice. Her long dark hair is in a loose plait draped across her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkle as she looks at me, the colour of fur trees in the winter light. A dark and moody shade that's at odds with the most beautiful smile spread across her face as she leans over the bar, her breasts getting pushed up high in the process. It makes me realise that I never got to truly experience them that night in the basement. A regret that I shouldn't want to change, but desperately do.

“Hi,” she says, grinning down at me.

Such a simple low-key word but enough of a jolt to get me to leap up from kneeling and grin right back. She's a tall woman but the top of her head still falls underneath my chin. I want to say how beautiful she looks and how I've thought of her every day since our night together. That it was more than a onenight stand and I want to have that same moment over and over with her. My earlier inner turmoil being completely forgotten as the woman who caused a spark of emotion in me suddenly reappears into my life.

Running my fingers through my hair, I try to be suave and rest my elbow on the bar, leaning over to be at eye level with her.

“What's a big city girl doing in a town like this?” I practically purr, trying to ignore her nipples hardening beneath her sweater but doing a poor job of it and glancing at them anyway.

“Porter.”

She says my name like a breath escaping her. A heat flashing across her eyes as she looks at me.

Leaning closer to her still, her lips mear inches from mine, I want to take her, possess her, consume her. Have her ruin me and build me back up as a man worthy of her. She moves closer still and the smell of vanilla with a hint of jasmine washes over me. The tension falls away from my shoulders almost instantly. Closing my eyes for a moment, I breathe her in.

“Charlie,” I whisper,moye spaseniye[1].

Chapter 5 - Charlie

Achair is knocked over somewhere behind us, the loud crash breaking the spell we both seemed to be under.

Getting my first good look at him since the wedding I actively have to tell myself not to drool. In the soft lighting of the room, his dark eyes seem to get lost in the shadows, remaining completely still as he watches me. He moves and stands up straight, no longer leaning on the bar in front of me and I forgot how tall he is. I'm not a short woman and I'm also not a height snob. Some of the best lovers I've had have been equal to my 5’10 or shorter. It's like they know they're playing to a slight disadvantage being shorter than the desired 6-foot something. Porter, however, feels at least a foot taller than me and I have to tilt my head back slightly to drink him in. I never did get the chance to run my hand through his dark hair. It's cut so short that I know I'll get that soft prickly sensation if I brush my fingertips against it.

“I take it you got my meals then?” he drawls, his voice deep and gravelly, a small smile cut across his face.

“I did, thank you. It's been a big help to have something I can just heat up at the end of the day. I was thinking I might beable to buy some each week to have in the fridge for the nights I don't want to cook.”

I can't help but give myself a mental pat on the back for my amazing idea. If I get meals from the bar then I’ll always have an excuse to come and see him. I feel likeDr Evilwith how good my plotting is.

“Whatever you need, I can sort it for you. If you want to eat here or take them home, I'll look after you.”

Did he just say he’lllook after me? What do I even say to that? I don't know if I should jump into his arms or run away. I'm usually in control of my emotions, never expecting more from a person than they can give. I have exclusive situationships, only. And yet for the first time ever, my wants and my desires seem to be lining up.

Do I want Porter to look after me?

I definitely want him to fuck me again but not at the risk of making everything awkward, especially as I’m considering hanging around for a while. My lack of response as I mull over this sudden internal dilemma seems to prompt him into further conversation. A small dip in his brow forms as he picks up a clean glass and starts shining it.

“So what brings you to town, Charlie?” he says, flicking his gaze between me and the glass.

Is he nervous?

Taking a quick look around me to make sure no one is near that could overhear me, I quickly whisper, “Because of the baby.”

He seems a bit confused and stops what he's doing. He must not have heard me so I slowly mouth the wordsbecause of the babyagain, pointing toward my stomach.

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