Killing Me Softly(A Broken Souls Series)

The coffee shop is by Hefner Lake, in Oklahoma City. I try not to be too early, I have a horrible habit of being fifteen to thirty minutes early everywhere I go. My mother was the same way. Back when she was a good mom, we were a full hour early on my first day of Kindergarten. We waited in the car and talked about all the fun school was going to be for me. Mom was wrong, school sucked. I hated all the rules and kids made fun of me because I was missing my two front bottom teeth. I had knocked them out when I fell on the coffee table at the ripe age of three. It took until third grade before they grew back. By that point, my nickname was, Jolly Holly Snaggletooth. Like a damn Dr. Seuss character. That all happened before we were poor and my dad was crazy.

I ease my Charger over the speed bumps in the parking lot and park in a spot that won’t give me car dings. I’m only fifteen minutes early and he isn’t here yet. Tate said he’d text me when he arrived, so we can walk in together. I open the ereader on my phone to finish off the last five pages of this crazy vampire book I’m reading. It is bloody and strange with the meanest characters I’ve ever read in a book. For whatever reason, I love it. I can’t get enough of the book.

The rumbling of a motorcycle pulling in next to me makes me jump. I close out the app and turn my attention to the biker as he takes off his gloves and it’s his hands that I notice first. He unsnaps his helmet and pulls it off like unwrapping a present, the prize at the end is Tate. And that is what Andy would’ve called a panty dropping moment. Is this guy for real? My eyes are drawn to the bike. The solid black bike with chrome pipes is incredibly sexy. He is like a walking cliché, with his tattoo, muscular build, guitar, and a sleek motorcycle.

I slide my phone in my purse before getting out of my car. Whatever his job is, it must pay very well. “Motorcycle guy huh? You’re not in a gang are you?” I make a reference to a biker show that my dad watches every once in a while.

Tate chuckles as he says, “No, I’m a loner. I try to stay on the right side of the law. You look really pretty.” He holds the door open for me like no other guy I’ve gone out with. The rich aroma of coffee practically knocks me off my feet.

“Thank you.” I’ve never been able to take a compliment without blushing. His hand lightly brushes the small of my back as he guides me to the ordering area. Goose bumps run up and down my arms at his touch.

“So, what do you want to try? Carmel cinnamon latte? How about fiery hot latte with a shot of hot sauce?”

“I’ll try the vanilla bean latte, sorry, I’m simple. Simple girl, simple taste,” I reply. So far, it’s easy being near him.

“I like simple, it keeps life less complicated. There’s enough complications in my world.” The barista comes over and he orders a large coffee with a shot of espresso and my latte. He gives the girl his name and I can tell she’s blown away by him. As an afterthought, she turns her attention to me and by the expression on her face, she doesn’t consider me competition. I give her my, go to hell glare and loop my arm through his as we go to the far end of the shop and sit down.

The girl at the counter calls out our order number. From behind, he has a great ass and I can see the muscles in his back underneath his black polo. He sits down and hands me an oatmeal cookie and my drink. “Thank you, I love oatmeal cookies. You’re definitely not in a gang, I have it on good authority that gang members don’t eat oatmeal cookies. They’re too healthy.”

“Good authority, huh? Gang members can’t be healthy?” He teases.

“I haven’t met one healthy one yet.”

I take a sip of my drink before adding a packet of sweetener. “I like it sweet.”

“Holland, there’s a question burning in my mind. Do you really make everyone with a rash bring in a picture that you can keep? I’ve wondered about it since that day. I’m sorry if I sounded rude, I didn’t mean to walk out like I did.”

Oh, for a split second I had forgotten about his visit to the store. “It really is a policy. If I give a refund without a picture to attach to the paperwork and I send it in to corporate, they take the money from my check.”

“Wow, they’re serious about proof. I bet something happened to make them so strict.” He takes a bite of his cookie and then a sip of his coffee.

I pick up the crumbs that fell from my cookie and set them in my napkin. “One of the stores on the east coast was giving away refunds fraudulently. I’m not sure about the details, I just do what they tell me to do.”

“I understand. I do to.”

“Yeah? What do you do?” I ask.

“I’m an air traffic controller in the Air Force. I’m stationed at Tinker Air Force Base.”

I close my eyes and shake my head. Of course he’s military. Isn’t that what I thought originally? Dammit. His hair is longer than it was when I saw him the first time. After last night, I figured he was just a singer.

“Is everything okay? Are you allergic to air traffic controllers?” He asks.

I open my eyes and smile like an idiot I’m sure. “Not air traffic controllers.”

“Air Force?” His left eyebrow arches and his forehead crinkles as he waits for me to answer.

Damn, he’s military. I shrug my shoulders, buying time to answer him. “Yeah. No. I don’t know. It’s the whole military thing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we have a military, but I’ve always been warned to stay away from them.”

“Did a guy break your heart or something?” He leans back in his chair but keeps his hands on the table.

I shake my head no. “Nothing like that. My dad has always warned me about military guys. He says that they’ll either break my heart, or steal my heart and I would end up following them wherever they get stationed.” There, I said it.

Tate reaches over and takes my hand in his. “Look, I’m not like everyone else. My job doesn’t get transferred very often. There’s guys who’ve been stationed at Tinker since they went into the military twenty years ago. We do go away every once in a while to other countries. I don’t run with anyone really. The other guys in my dorms all want to party and meet girls. I don’t want to party, and playing music is my thing. One day, I’d like to make a record. It isn’t something I’m pursuing right now, but I will eventually. There’s a couple of videos of me on Youtube, they’ve done pretty good but not viral. Everyone’s trying to go viral these days.” The rich tone of his voice draws me into him.

My hand feels sweaty and I can’t help but wonder if he’s second guessing holding it. “So, you’re not getting stationed anywhere else that you’re aware of?”

“Nope, but I never say never, as the cliché says. I like you, Holland. I want to get to know you better. Will you give me a chance?”

Who can resist that? “Yes, I’d like that. But there’s a condition.”

His eyebrow arches at me again.

“You can’t meet my dad. He’s very serious about military guys and I don’t want to hear him. If this goes nowhere, no harm done.”

His lip curls up in his award winning smile. “I’ll agree, but I hope one day I’ll get to meet him.”

He’s good at this charm thing he has going on.

“Tell me about Holland. What’s your story? I know where you work, you like lattes, you have excellent taste in musicians, but what else do you do?”