Page 10 of Vendetta
“I walk,” she told him.“My place is a couple of blocks over.”
“You walk?”Was she serious?“In this town?”
“Yeah, that’s what my uncle says.”She shook her head.
“I’ll drive us,” he said in a way that didn’t leave room for argument.“Mine’s the white Transit in the lot.”
“I’ll be out there shortly,” she told him before getting back to closing the place down.
* * *
Dylan
Tall, dark, and mysterious drove them from the bar to her apartment building.The walk up the stairs to her apartment on the top floor didn’t take long, but she felt every step of it.
He didn’t say much, and she didn’t fill the silence.Not because it was awkward, but because it wasn’t.It felt oddly natural, like they were both saying plenty without saying a word.
Dylan’s building sat on the east edge of Oak Grove, tucked between a closed-down Laundromat and a vape shop that never seemed to be open.It was three stories tall and built sometime in the eighties.The hallway lights flickered, the carpet was worn and uneven, and the stairwell always smelled vaguely of burnt toast and someone else’s regrets.
It was her home now.
Dylan led him up to the third floor, down a narrow hallway that creaked underfoot.Hers was the unit with a weathered brass “3B” on the door.Dylan didn’t look at him as she unlocked it, just pushed it open and stepped inside.
Her apartment wasn’t much, but it was clean.It had one bedroom with a small bathroom and kitchen and a decent-sized living room.It held a thrifted couch with a throw blanket folded neatly over the arm, a secondhand coffee table she’d repainted herself, and a flat-screen TV.The TV had been one of the few things she’d taken with her from her previous apartment.There was no art on the walls, but there were a few framed photos on a shelf, just nothing recent.There were pictures of her in college, with her mom.A lake trip with friends she hadn’t spoken to in far too long.A couple of other photos with family.
The kitchen was tucked into the corner.It was tiny, but she kept it spotless.She kept a candle that she burned low on the windowsill, cinnamon and vanilla softening the lingering scent of takeout.
“I don’t have much,” she said, locking the door behind him.“But it’s mine.”
She didn’t say it defensively.She didn’t want to explain that she was someone who had tied everything up in someone else for too long.She was finally learning how to build something for herself.She had to start somewhere, right?
Tossing her keys into the bowl by the door, Dylan finally turned to her guest.
“So,” she said with a soft smile, “you want a drink or something to eat?”
Tall, dark, and handsome shook his head.
The lighting in her apartment was better than at the bar.Her mystery man really was handsome.She turned toward him and found him standing near the door, just inside her space, still and quiet like he wasn’t sure if he belonged there.He looked like trouble dressed in denim.He was built like someone who’d carried weight, literally and emotionally, for a long time.His dark hair brushed his shoulders, slightly damp from the night air, and the long beard only made him look more dangerous, but not in a way that scared her.
He wore his jeans with an old hoodie under a broken-in jean jacket.It was like he’d walked out of a backroad and into her life without warning.The cap shadowed his eyes, but not enough to hide the intensity in them.They were dark and sharp, like he saw everything and forgot nothing.
The man made her feel things she shouldn’t be feeling.It was rare that she took someone home on a whim.But when he asked when her shift ended, what was she supposed to do?She’d learned that if you said no to the right thing, you usually didn’t get a second chance.
He hadn’t told her much.She didn’t know his name or where he came from.And she hadn’t pushed.But there was something steady about him.Like whatever storms he’d walked through had taught him how to stay calm in the middle of chaos.
The only thing she was sure of?He wasn’t like anyone she’d met so far.
“Well, come in,” she told him, motioning to her couch.“You promised me conversation.”
That earned her a smile that made her weak in the knees.Pulling off his cap, he hung it on one of the coat pegs next to her front door.Then he shed the denim jacket for good measure.Even with the hoodie he wore, she could tell there was a great body under there.She knew there had to be.His thighs were thick and heavily muscled, straining the jeans he wore.She watched patiently, thinking she’d be fine if he wanted to take more things off.
Walking around, he took a seat next to her on the couch.Right next to her.
Holding out a hand, she grinned at him.“I’m Dylan.”
He shook her hand, his gaze on her mouth now.“Jason.”
“Now that that’s out of the way.”She leaned into him, kissing his mouth.Yeah, she knew she could be reading the situation wrong, but she didn’t think so.
