Page 14 of A Man in Uniform

Chapter Three

Wyatt

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She's still just asgorgeous. As pretty as I remember.

And I fucked up.

I know what she wants from me, but it's something I'm not willing to give.

Story deserves a lot from me, and I can apologize for so much of what she might be feeling, but I can't give her all the answers she wants.

She'll never understand.

I watch her from a distance as she leaves her apartment and walks up the street. She turns, and the long arms from the sun slip between the buildings, they catch her skin perfectly, making her glow.

Fuck, this girl makes my cock hard, and my heart hammer inside my chest. She always has. Even when I was over seas, all I had to do was think about her, and I could get myself off in minutes.

She heads up Union Ave, and is greeted at a small coffee shop by a tall blonde girl with heavy eye makeup. The woman makes an excited squeal, embracing Story in a hug. They take a seat at a table outside, and her friend starts talking.

I can see her lips moving and her hands dancing in the air. She lifts the tea bag in her cup, steeping it a few times before taking a sip. Story sits quietly, nodding and smiling, but not really talking at all.

This is the first time I've seen Story out since that night. It's been almost a week. I've given her space, just waiting for her to feel more normal. This is it.

Starting my motorcycle, I pull up to the curb and slow to a stop. Pulling off my helmet, I smile. “Excuse me ladies, I'm lost, and need directions.”

Story's friend's eyes light up as she leans over the table and smiles back. It's definitely flirty and I see a flare of jealousy in Story's stare.

She doesn't hate me completely.

“Where you going?” the blond asks, resting her chin in her hand.

“He's lying, Jenny, he isn't lost.”

“Now, Story, don't be rude. Not every guy is a pig looking to get laid, or a dirty creep. Right?” she asks, turning her attention to me. “You're not a dirty creep are you?”

“Me. . .” I say, pausing and pouting my bottom lip. “Nah, not me.”

“See,” Jenny says, looking back at Story. “He's just a hot guy on a motorcycle.”

“You're friend is right, I'm just a hot guy on a motorcycle,” I say teasingly with a soft smirk.

Story's brows furrow as her lip curls into a snarl. “No, you're an asshole on a motorcycle, big difference.”

“Story!” Jenny yells, her eyes growing wide. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Story stands up from her chair, folds her arms across her chest, and tips her head. “What the hell are you doing, Wyatt?”

“Wyatt?” Jenny's mouth falls open as she glances between us. “This is the guy I've heard about all these years?”

“Yeah, this is him,” she says. “Jenny, Wyatt. Wyatt, Jenny.” Story draws a hand between us, but she's not happy about this introduction. I smile and wave, tucking my helmet under my arm. “Now that the introductions are out of the way, maybe you can tell me what you're doing? Better yet, you can just drive off and never come back.”

Jenny sits back in her chair, picking up her tea and holding it close. She looks down into the cup and says, “Staying out of this one.”

“Story—”

“No, Wyatt, I'm not doing this. I'm not playing whatever game this is.” Her finger jabs back and forth between us. “I don't know what you're up to, but I'm not having it.”

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