Page 14 of Alpha's Touch
“A long while,” Zeppelin answered, taking a sip from his jar. How did he make drinking from the damn jar look so sexy?
“Most people don’t land here by accident.” Zeppelin studied him.
“I like mountains,” Preston offered weakly, cutting into the rubbery meatloaf that smelled vaguely of cardboard. “Just needed a change of scenery. And small towns. Everyone’s so... friendly.”
“Mmm,” Zeppelin hummed, clearly not buying it but not pushing either. “The Frothy Pine treating you okay? Ash can be a bear at times, but he’s fair.”
Preston relaxed slightly at the change in subject. “Yeah, he seems decent. Though, after tonight, he might be rethinking his hiring decision.”
“You did fine,” Zeppelin said, his knee brushing against Preston’s as he shifted.
The contact sent a jolt through Preston’s leg that traveled upward.
“If by ‘fine’ you mean ‘broke half the glassware and nearly set a customer on fire with flaming shots,’ then sure.”
Zeppelin laughed, a rich sound that filled the small room. “Everyone has a rough first night. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“Must be nice,” Preston said, trying not to think about how many times he’d had to uproot his life in the past few months. “Having roots somewhere.”
Zeppelin nodded, his eyes moving around the apartment again. “What brought you to town?”
Preston swallowed a bite that tasted like salt and disappointment. “Change of scenery,” he said, the half-truth sitting uncomfortably on his tongue. “Needed a fresh start.”
“From what?”
The question hung in the air, deceptively simple. Preston focused on his food, pushing gritty mashed potatoes around his plate. “Just life, you know? Sometimes you gotta hit reset.”
Zeppelin didn’t push, just nodded like he understood completely. “This town’s good for that. People here tend to mind their own business.”
“That’s the dream,” Preston said with a small laugh. “To be left alone.”
“Is it?” Zeppelin’s gaze was too intense, too knowing.
Preston dropped his eyes to his plate. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “Not always.”
They fell into conversation about the town, like the best place to get breakfast, the bakery with cinnamon rolls the size of dinner plates, the annual festival in the fall when the leaves changed.
Preston found himself relaxing despite his wariness, drawn in by Zeppelin’s easy confidence and the way he listened, really listened, when Preston spoke.
As they talked, the space between them on the couch gradually decreased until their knees were touching, neither acknowledging it but neither moving away. The contact felt both dangerous and inevitable, like standing at the edge of a cliff and feeling the urge to jump.
As much as he didn’t want this night to end, when Preston yawned for the third time in as many minutes, Zeppelin set his empty jar on the coffee table.
“I should let you get some sleep,” he said, standing up. “You’ve had a long night.”
Preston nodded, relief and disappointment mingling in his chest as he walked Zeppelin to the door. “Thanks for the ride home.”
Zeppelin paused at the threshold, looking down at Preston with an unreadable expression. “Lock up behind me,” he said finally. “And, Preston?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It wasn’t a question, and Preston didn’t offer an answer. He simply nodded and watched as Zeppelin headed down the hallway, his broad shoulders disappearing around the corner.
Only after the sound of his motorcycle faded into the distance did Preston close the door, slide the deadbolt into place, and lean his forehead against the cool wood.
What the hell was he doing? Getting involved with anyone, especially someone as intense as Zeppelin, was the last thing he needed right now. He had enough complications in his life without adding another one.
