“I stuck twenty bucks in your purse when you weren't looking, to cover the cost of the food we've been eating. Now shut up and get some ice cream with me. When you need to, you don't think hard enough. When you don't, you think too much.”
Zayden pulls up to the curb outside one of the Old Town shops. The streets are made of red bricks, and the city has managed to maintain the original horse hitching posts and streetlights from way back when. The whole area is made up of Victorian shops with fine architectural details and bright colors. In all the flower beds and at the bases of all the trees are crushed up white oyster shells.
Welcome to Eureka, California, USA. Population 30,000. Nightlife: none. Seafood: plenty. Gods: one covered in tattoos and piercings. Clues: none because I have no idea what to do about him.
With a sigh, I shove open my door and climb out, waiting while Zayden unhooks Sadie from her car seat and puts her in a fold out stroller. When she's successfully strapped in, he looks up at me and smiles, nodding his chin across the street at a place called Seaside Coffee and Ice Cream. Must be new because it definitely wasn't here when I was in high school.
“What's your favorite flavor?” Zay asks as he checks both ways and starts us across the street. “Personally, I'm a rainbow sherbet kind of a guy, but …” He leans over and breathes hot against my ear. “If I'm licking a scoop off the body of a beautiful woman, I'll take just about any flavor.”
I pull away from him and toss a look his direction.
“I'm still not sure what I'm doing with you. Even if it started off as a joke, you still lied to me. And besides, I never said I wanted an ongoing fuck buddy scenario with you.” Zay pushes the stroller, looking ridiculously sexy in his black boots, grungy jeans and tight t-shirt, very edgy and cool. With the white and blue stroller and the soft skinned baby inside of it, he's ten times more attractive. I notice other women staring enviously at me as we make our way down the brick sidewalk towards the front of the shop.
It smells heavenly when we step inside, like espresso and vanilla, the soothing sounds of brewing coffee and the clack of laptop keys making for a pleasant atmosphere. The walls on either side and in front of us are made entirely of brick, looming up two stories into old wooden rafters. I guess if I have to live in this town, I could find a worse place to hang out and do homework.
“Whatcha want?” Zay asks, pausing in front of the glass ice cream case and planting his wicked sexy hands on his hips. Looking at him now, it's like the sex is a dream, like it never even happened. But then my hip bone tingles and I remember the hot brush of his fingers, the warm press of his body, the sudden knowledge that I was sharing my space with somebody else, that he was inside of me.
I shiver.
“Something with coffee in it. I have a feeling this is gonna be a long night.”
Zay grins and salutes me, stepping up to the counter to order while I wait with the baby.
She stares up at me with dark brown eyes, her head fuzzy with hair, her skin the color of a good mocha. She blows a raspberry at me and I smile, reaching down to squeeze the pink and white sock on her foot.
“Hard to believe my lumberjack dickhead of a brother made this, huh?” Zay asks, pausing next to me to point at the baby with an ice cream cone. He hands mine over to me and I notice he's taken the liberty of ordering a waffle cone with chocolate and sprinkles on it for me. I kind of love him for that. “I give my sister-in-law all the credit. Mercedes never misses a raid, and she annihilates on first person shooters. You should see her in action; it's impressive.”
Zay pushes the stroller over to a pair of seats near the front so we can look out the window while we eat. I notice he watches me lick my ice cream before starting in on his. And then when he does, he makes such a sensual face that I laugh.
“Trying too hard?” he asks as he looks at me with half-lidded eyes and then runs his tongue along his lower lip. “You don't seem to like that. Should I scale back a little?”
“I'm not sleeping with you,” I say and he smirks at me. The expression on his face sort of makes me want to slap him.
“Not sleeping with you again. Don't forget the again part. I'm a part of your life narrative now, Smarty-Pants.”
“Why do you keep calling me that? If anyone's the smarty-pants in the family, it'd be my sister Ingrid. She was always outdoing me on everything.” Zay scoffs and his face gets dark for a split second.