Now, I wonder.
I wonder about a lot of things I should be chasing out of my head.
Ideally, before Lincoln damn Burns pulverizes what抯 left of my heart.
14
Each Separate Dying Ember (Lincoln)
揈liza, huh??Wyatt asks, pulling Nevermore from what looks like a trance.
Not just her.
It抯 the kick in the ass I need to rip my eyes off the mellow, curious thing next to me. I抳e been staring, and not politely. The only thing hungrier than my eyes tonight is my blood, which seethes like it has an active current every time I stare at Dakota Poe too long.
Even at night, she抯 like the goddamned sun.
This indecipherable, overwhelming sight that burns so small yet still has this undeniable power over my entire world.
When the fuck did that happen?
When did I start gnashing my teeth with denial? If I抎 never date her梚f I can抰 damn well date her桰 shouldn抰 be growling it like a man holding in secrets while he抯 being waterboarded.
Wyatt抯 practically a brother and always will be. Though after the shit he抯 been suggesting tonight, I抦 sorry I didn抰 write out a full-blown love declaration for Meadow to find with his signature forged at the bottom.
揈liza is my friend,?Dakota says vacantly, turning the coffee cup in her hands and staring into it. 揗y downstairs neighbor, really, but we get along great. She抯 obsessed with inventing new coffee flavors, and she抯 always experimenting.?
揟hey any good? The coffee itself, I mean,?Wyatt says, wagging a finger. 揌ere抯 my rule: if it抯 no good black, then it抯 no damn good at all. Don抰 think you can cover up a shitty weak brew with an assful of sugar and half a teat of cream.?
Dakota blinks at him and then bursts out laughing.
I shake my head like it weighs a hundred pounds.
He抯 always had a way with words.
揇akota wouldn抰 know good coffee. She likes her lattes sweet enough to kill and loaded with cinnamon or salted caramel,?I grind out.
Predictably, Nevermore glares, but ignores my crap.
揈liza hits the jackpot sometimes with her stuff. The rest could use some work, but I mean, that抯 part of the process. Darker roasts aren抰 her strong suit. I think she抯 been working on that, though.?Dakota fingers the corner of her lip, deep in thought.
I hate how adorable she is.
But not nearly as much as I fucking loathe the angry ache she puts in my balls. Why did she have to crack a joke about beating off with my right hand again?
I haven抰 jacked off in ages, but tonight, it might be the only way I抣l ever get to sleep with her up in my head.
揌ow would you know anything about dark roasts? I抳e gotten your coffee order before. It抯 milk and sugar with a splash of coffee thrown in.?
揝hut up,?she says, rolling her eyes to the moon.
揅reative. Remind me why I hired you to write copy again??I know I抦 being an asshole.
I抦 taking out everything Wyatt stirred up on her, and if I have any sense, I should sew my yap shut.
揢m, apparently so you could make me pull double duty as your assistant while your real one went on maternity leave??she throws back with the usual venom.
That shouldn抰 make me smile. I hide it behind my coffee cup as I take another long pull off the drink.
揧ou got a boyfriend??Wyatt asks, reloading his cup with more coffee.
Dakota looks at me just as I swallow.
She doesn抰 say anything, but her eyes are bright. Nervous.
They make me wonder why.
揥yatt, she抯 out of your league,?I say numbly. 揝tick to girls who like to garden and can put up with your shit.?
Wyatt chuckles and gulps his coffee. 揜elax. I wasn抰 asking for myself.?
揥yatt.?The look I throw his way could flay him open.
He holds a hand up.
揌ey, no harm, no foul. Just askin??He looks at Dakota. 揧ou want a story before I hit the hay? Oh five hundred will be here soon enough.?
揥hen was the last time you were up at oh five hundred??I ask.
揟omorrow. Busy day.?
I stare at him, glowering, wondering what sort of story he抯 about to tell.
揌ell if I know, Burns. But your girl doesn抰 want to hang out all night in front of my tent, so take her home after this.?He stops and takes a deep breath, holding his hands in front of the fire like the drama queen he is. 揙kay. So, I moved around a lot as a kid, and I lived a year or two in this little mountain town called Heart抯 Edge. They had this spooky old mine everybody always said was haunted, so one time me and my friends went exploring, not knowing these weird military contractor guys were setting up shop棓
揝he抯 not my girl梜eep your facts straight,?I interject. 揟hat goes for your damn ghost story, too.?
揑抦 really not,?Dakota adds with a glassy look. 揑 just work for him.?
She rips her eyes away from me.
Damn. Why does she look hurt?
揃ut you aren抰 working now and you抮e having a good time. You laugh a lot and you smile real pretty,?Wyatt tells her, always the charmer.
She doesn抰 deny it, just gives back a friendly smile.
揥here are your friends, anyway? If you抮e not his girl, you must have more fun with them than your worn-out old boss who can抰 handle his tail being pulled.?Wyatt gives me a shameless grin.
I抦 so close to decking him square in the face tonight.
So close.
Dakota shrugs. 揈h, I haven抰 been here that long. I抳e kept my head down, mostly. Eliza抯 really the only new friend I抳e made.?
揥here you from??Wyatt asks.
揇allas, North Dakota,?I answer for her. 揙dd little place that抯 barely on the map like your mountain town. They抳e got a lot of oil, movie stars settling down, and even the occasional tiger.?
揝o you were listening when I told you about it.?Dakota looks at me and smiles, raising her brow.
I snort, but wonder if I抦 digging my hole deeper. She shouldn抰 look so impressed that I listen to her.
揌ow long have you been here??Wyatt asks, a question I don抰 know the answer to.
揂bout eight months come June,?she answers.
揧ou should have made more than one friend by now,?I say, sipping my coffee. 揥hat, no poet groups worth their salt around here??
揑抦 a working writer. You抎 be surprised how hard it is to relate to the self-appointed starving artists who relish their part-time jobs and rolling out of bed at noon every day to hack at a few words. Also, I really like the girls I work with, but I haven抰 been at Haughty But Nice long enough to socialize a ton. At my old job, no one really talked to anyone. And if they did, it was because they were trying to cut you down. A real crab-in-bucket place. I like Anna and Cheryl but we work a lot. There isn抰 much time to hang out.?
I nod at her, feeling a twist of guilt because I抦 the reason she doesn抰 have the free time to socialize.
揧et you have time to stalk the boss,?I say, trying to brush it off.
揝omeone has to keep you in line and Wyatt抯 a busy guy,?she says with a nod at my friend.
Damn her, I laugh.
揧eah, speaking of busy, I was just getting to the good part so pipe down and listen,?Wyatt says, shifting back into full bard-mode. With his wide eyes and grizzled beard, he certainly fits the part. 揝o everybody had stories about the mine, especially this cool old lady who owned the inn, Miss Wilma...?
We listen as Wyatt drones on about getting pumped up on local legends and pushed into mischief by his friends. It won him a close encounter with a mountain lion who decided to settle into that old mine and came flying out after him when one of those late-night contractors started running a jackhammer somewhere deep in the old mine.
All this time on the street may have made him more dramatic, but I抳e got to admit, it抯 hard not to wrap a protective arm around Dakota by the time he抯 wrapping up.
I also know there抯 a darker edge to his story.