Page 15 of Resurfaced Passion
He wasn’t depressed but he was stuck, and it felt like his time was running out so damn quickly.
A woman in her middle forties on the far table caught Reaper’s eye as he strode through the gaming room, staring directly at him with her painted red lips curled at the edges and obvious hunger in the depths of those green eyes. Clear to anyone watching that she liked what she saw and would be down to fuck if he showed her the first hint of encouragement.
He felt nothing.
Not a dick-twinge.
No curl of lust in his belly for a fast fuck. Nothing.
His dick worked. It worked too well since he had to beat off sometimes twice a day just to deal with the bombardment of memories he knew he shouldn’t think about, but there those little fuckers lived, front and center, tormenting Reaper.
On his way out he snapped off a flower … no clue of its name … and carefully pushed it into his jacket pocket.
He’d only just started up his bike when a mirage of pink caught his peripheral eye and each muscle turned to stone.
Paige was across the street with her two hands cupping her face as she peered through the pane of glass of an empty storefront window, but she wasn’t alone. Some guy in a long camel colored coat holding a satchel was standing far too close to her for Reaper’s liking.
He wasn’t a murderous man by nature, however, every violent thought he was experiencing contracted as he roared his bike to life and pulled a U-turn in the middle of the street and rode up alongside Paige who was looking at him dazed and a little flushed in the cheeks. It better be to do with the weather and nothing to do with whatever that dickhead had been saying to her or he’d bury the guy.
“Reaper. Hey! How are you?”
“What’s going on?”
Yeah, he knew he was acting like a surly bastard, glaring at the dude who wisely backed up a few feet.
“Oh. Nothing.” She smiled. His belly sloshed bile around because she still wasn’t telling him she wasn’twiththat guy. “I was just looking at this store for rent. This is Lawrence, the realtor, he was kind enough to show me around without a formal appointment.”
I just bet he was. Fucker.Mr. kind realtor guy with his perfectly combed hair saw the glare on Reaper’s face and suddenly walked off to the corner of the block to take a phone call. Convenient.Good boy, Reaper thought, or he might have put the guy through the fucking window for even glancing at Paige.
“It’s kinda small inside, but I like it,” she beamed.
“Thinking of taking it?”
“I wish! Maybe in a few months’ time if it’s still available.” The longing was all over her unmasked face.
Reaper had to chew on his tongue, guessing the only reason she wasn’t signing a lease was lack of funds. He wanted to shove money at her, to give her everything he owned. His head bowed over his hands resting on the handlebars of his bike. This was one of those moments he wanted to say so much and chose to say nothing at all.
He could help her.
He could take care of her. So fucking easily.
Then what? Be happy for a short while and chance it crashing down around him?
Cowards stood back and did nothing, so maybe that was Reaper’s true role in life.
Grasping the stem of the flower he brought it out of his pocket, a little battered but still intact and he shoved it towards her.
Her eyes went wide.
“Here. Something to make your day better.”
“Reaper! It’s so pretty. Thank you. I didn’t get you anything,” she laughed a little. As she took it, the silver bracelet on her wrist jingled with the charms adorned on the thin chain. His heart seized every time he saw it because those were gifts from him.
His Paige was a magpie for shiny baubles. The charms meant something to her, he knew that because sometimes he caught her fingering each one, smiling to herself.
He cleared his throat, the bike idling under him reminded Reaper he had to get going.
“Do you need a ride somewhere?”
