Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Alexander

A utumn stares at me like I stole her voice.

“Did you forget how to speak?” I ask, surprised she’s standing in my house. I’ve somehow avoided the coffee shop for two weeks, even though I’ve been tempted to visit again just to make sure she was real.

When she entered the library, she didn't see me sitting in the room's corner reading. For a few minutes, I watched her eyes scan over the books. Weirdly, I'd been thinking about her, and then she waltzed into the room. It was like she was summoned.

The athletic clothes fit her like a second skin and leave no room for the imagination.

“I'm very sorry,” she mutters. “I wasn't trying to—wait, do you live here?”

I narrow my eyes. “You're not in a position to ask me any goddamn questions. I should have you arrested then file charges for breaking and entering.”

“I broke nothing. The door was unlocked. Since it was raining I?—”

“I'm calling the chief of police,” I say, turning to exit the library.

It’s one of my favorite rooms in the house, the place I spent most of my time when I was a teenager, filled with my favorites.

Autumn scoffs and follows behind me. She keeps up with my long stride. “Please don't do that. We can discuss this like adults.”

I stop walking and she crashes into the back of me. I turn and glare at her. “You're trespassing. No one should be in this house other than me.”

“Fine. Good luck here. It’s haunted,” she says, glancing up at the high ceilings like she expects a ghost to pop out, then tries to skirt past me, but I grab onto her.

“Excuse me?” My face almost breaks into a smile, but I force it away. She’s too damn adorable.

“A family was murdered within these walls,” she says with a serious expression. “Didn't anyone warn you about Hollow Manor?”

I shake my head at the ridiculousness. My mother and father built this house and have been the only owners and residents. Sure, it's been vacant for a long while, but if a ghost is haunting the space, it's my mom. She would’ve loved the thought of that.

Autumn exhales and glances out the window. The rain has subsided but the dark clouds roll overhead.

“Will you pretty please let me leave now?”

“What are you willing to trade?” I ask, keeping my grasp on her wrist. “I don't grant favors.”

“And I don't give IOUs,” she states.

I stare at her, wondering if I've finally met my match. My sister predicted it after all. “Do you know who I am?”

“All I know about you is you’re a liar,” she says.

“Excuse me?” For a moment, I wonder if she knows who I am, and if she watched the docuseries about me.

“You shit on my Ristretto. I tasted it after you left and I know it was perfect.”

Ah. I guess she is.

“Interesting.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”

“Because it is.”

“Tell me why you lied.”

I let go of her, refusing to confirm anything and move down the stairs. It takes all of my strength not to smile, because I know from this single encounter she will be the end of me.

She follows behind me and having her here is too convenient. When my feet hit the bottom step, I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge. I pull a beer from the door and pop off the cap.

“Do you make it a habit of walking into strangers’ homes?” I ask, taking a sip.

She blinks up at me and I think I could paint her face with my eyes closed. “Does it matter?”

“Wow. So you’re a liability,” I state.

Autumn gives me the dirtiest look. “Frame it however you want. You don’t know how many times I've turned the knob to that door and it's never opened. No way I was turning back.”

“How many?”

My question shocks her. She doesn't know how to respond to me, and that's okay, most people don't. I was raised to be direct. We can blame my father for that, and for breaking me from being intimidated. I bow to no one.

“At least twenty,” she says. “This place has been a mystery for so long.”

“And you'll keep it to yourself. No one needs to know.”

“If you let me leave, I promise I won't tell a soul.”

“I should make an example out of you,” I warn. “Then if anyone else has the audacity to enter, maybe they'll think twice about it. What if I'd have drawn a weapon? Or attacked you?”

“I have bear spray.”

“You and I both know I had you pinned. I could've done whatever the fuck I wanted and no one would know. I could’ve made you disappear. I still can.”

“Disappearing doesn't sound so bad,” she says, and it reminds me of the conversation I had with my sister recently. “But my best friend knows where I am and if I don’t text her back before dark, she’ll report me as missing, this being the last place I was.”

Maybe the two of us aren't so different. I glance up at the window, noticing the rain has subsided.

“Tell me why you lied,” she says.

The attraction is intoxicating, and when I meet her eyes, poison bubbles in my blood. “You won’t let it go.”

“No, absolutely not.”

“Tell me why you can't accept that it tasted like shit?” I state, taking a long pull of my beer.

“I thought someone like you, with your tailored pants and designer shoes, would’ve had a more refined palate and appreciated the greater things in life. I guess not,” she says. Her phone buzzes in her leggings pocket. “That's probably my boyfriend checking on me.”

“Fuck him. Right now, you're my entertainment, Autumn.”

She swallows hard.

“Now.” I cross my ankles, leaning against the counter. “We’re negotiating.”

“Negotiating?”

“Yes, do you know what that word means?”

She scoffs. “You're an asshole.”

“Thank you.” I give her a sarcastic grin. I'm glad she believes that’s who I am. It's best for both of us if she stays away from me. Broken people break people, and I don't want to do that to her or anyone.

“What can I offer the man who clearly has everything?” She lifts her arms and glances around the space.

My eyes rake from her eyes to her mouth and I study how her tongue darts out and licks her plump lips. The connection streaming between us is undeniable.

“I want an IOU,” I state, matter-of-factly, testing her boundaries.

“I already told you, I don’t give those,” she says, staying firm in her decision.

“And that’s exactly why I want one. I want to be your exception.” I pull my phone from my pocket and unlock it. Then I scroll through my contacts and click on the person I’m searching for.

“Mr. Alexander,” he says.

Her face contorts.

“Hi, Jerry. How are you, sir?”

He has been the Chief of Police for the past thirty years. All I’d have to do is snap my fingers and Autumn would be picked up in a patrol car, handcuffed, and put in jail for the night. Everyone would hear about it because the locals are in each other’s business.

“Fantastic. I was given word that you’d be staying until January. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir. That’s right. So, I wanted to chat with you about something...”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Fine. You have an IOU. Fucking asshole,” she seethes.

“I’d love to have lunch one day while I’m in town,” I say.

“That would be great. Please let me know when you’re available,” he tells me.

“I will. Thank you. Have a good evening.”

I hang up and stare at her with a smirk.

“Your name is Alex Alexander?”

“You can call me whatever you’d like.”

“Are you trying to make me hate you?” she asks.

“Actually, yes,” I say, placing my hand on her shoulder and leading her to the door. “It will make this a lot easier.”

I look up at the sky, then glance down at my watch, knowing she has an hour and a half before darkness falls.

“Wait,” I say, gently pulling her back toward me. Her eyes focus on my mouth then slide up to my eyes. “Give me your phone.”

I don’t know why she does, but she hands it over to me unlocked. I program my number into her contacts. “Text me so we can discuss what I want.”

“And if I don’t?” she asks, stepping onto the porch.

“Oh, you will.” I’m firm.

“Is that your IOU?”

“Not quite, sweetheart. You owe me much more than a shitty text.”

She narrows her eyes at me and I see defiance sparkling. Autumn opens her mouth, but I slam the door in her face. Then, I force myself to walk away from her.

The universe has a fucked-up personality.

Three Days Later

I wake up gasping and sit up, rubbing my hand over my face. The scruff has taken over, but that’s what happens when I don’t shave for a week. Being off the grid, away from the city, away from responsibility, has been good for my soul. Maybe by the end of the year, I’ll feel even more like myself than I did before. One can hope.

I reach over to the empty side of the bed and run my hand across the cold sheets. I’m relieved after the dream I had about the brown-eyed girl with a snarky fucking attitude.

The sun climbs over the mountain peaks in the distance. One habit I haven’t broken yet is waking up early. Since I’ve been in Colorado, I’ve not slept in.

I place my feet on the floor, then go take a shower. As the warm stream rolls over my body, Autumn is on my mind. She hasn’t texted me. That woman is a dangerous combination of everything I want, but this is a game of cat and mouse that I can’t play.

An espresso machine sits on the counter and I look in the pantry for the medium roast coffee beans. Since I arrived, I’ve drunk black tea each morning on the balcony, but I finished the box yesterday. I move containers around and realize there isn’t a drip of caffeine in this place. If I don’t rectify that, I’ll have a headache by noon.

So, I grab my keys and leave. Leaving the comforts of my home wasn’t in my plan for today.

I slowly drive down the mountain, passing a few bicyclists. I wave at them, knowing how hard it is. This road is steep as fuck.

The parking lot for the grocery store is full and I make a mental note not to come this early in the morning again. Once I’m inside, I find the correct aisle and glance over the bleak selection. There are only grounds, and unfortunately my machine will not take that.

A woman with salt-and-pepper hair walks by me. She stops and grabs a container. “You look confused.”

“I need whole beans,” I say, glancing at her.

“Oh, sweetie, you’ll need to visit Cozy Coffee. They’re the only establishment in town who carries them. They worked out a deal with the owner of the store. Cozy won’t sell grounds and the grocery store won’t sell beans.”

Of course. Smart, though.

“Do you like their beans?”

“They’re the best in the country,” she says. “Try the dark roast. It’s fantastic.”

“Thanks for the recommendation.”

“Oh, if you’re ever tempted to take a chance on the coffee at Cozy Creek Confectionary, don’t. All the locals know it’s awful.”

“I will keep that in mind.” Instinctively I look at my watch and see it’s just past seven.

“Anyway, honey. Good luck. The line was wrapped around the building five minutes ago.”

“Thanks for the heads up and the luck,” I say with a grin. “I’ll probably need it.”

I walk several blocks until I meet up with those waiting for a cup of Cozy. Briefly, I contemplate going back to the store and grabbing some tea, then calling it a day.

However, someone still owes me a text so maybe seeing my face will remind her of that IOU she gave me.

When I enter, it's as if Autumn can feel my eyes on her, she turns her head toward me, like I commanded her to notice me, or maybe she felt my presence.

A crack of lightning snaps between us and she sharply inhales.

Why am I constantly being led to her? Even when I don’t want to be.

The silent conversation continues for a few more desperate seconds, and I’m the one to force my attention away.

This needs to stop before she becomes the wind in my sails.

Ten minutes later, I’m in front of the cash register speaking to Blaire. It feels like déjà vu as she gives me a warm smile.

However, I notice how she shoots glances toward Autumn. I glance at the other woman’s name tag—Julie—and I catch a whiff of the sweet aroma of sugar and bread as she passes by carrying a tray of chocolate croissants.

Julie's green eyes meet mine and she bursts into laughter. “Alex. Good to see you again. Street clothes today? Wow, I didn't recognize you.”

I grin, and it's easy to romanticize living in Cozy Creek permanently. No place in the world has friendlier people.

By how Autumn’s friends are gawking, I assume they’ve talked about me.

While it shouldn't please me, it absolutely fucking does.

I'm happy to be the center of their conversation, but I keep my jaw locked tight, not giving any of them a reaction.

Blaire clears her throat. “Your regular order?”

I meet her eyes, noticing her witch earrings. Her confidence is palpable. “You remember what I had two and a half weeks ago?”

“No one in this building will ever forget Mr. Ristretto.”

“I love to hear it. May I also order a slice of pumpkin bread and a pound of Colombian whole beans?”

“Ah, I'm sorry. We already ran out of pastries,” she says. “It’s super limited. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” I lean in and lower my voice, ridiculously aware that Autumn is listening. “And can I request someone other than her make my drink?”

“Sure thing,” Blaire says, typing something into the computer. Blaire places a bag of beans into a paper sack, handing it to me.

After I swipe my card, the sticker prints out on the machine. I think I hear Autumn scoff as I move to the opposite side of the dining room and wait. While I pretend to be reading something, I glance up at her, and our eyes meet.

She immediately looks away. And even though the magnetic force begs me forward, my feet stay planted in place and I unlock my phone, scrolling through social media to keep my mind busy.

A couple of minutes later, my name is called.

“Ristretto for Alex,” Julie says.

I lock my phone and put it in my pocket.

Julie hands me the cup and I remove the lid, then swirl it around, studying the crema on top. Then, I take a sip. She waits with bated breath and so does Autumn, even if she pretends like she doesn’t care.

“This is perfect.” I lift the cup and smile. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Julie bursts into laughter when Autumn groans.

I push open the door, allowing the next person in line into the building, then leave with my coffee beans in tow.

This time, it's much harder to hold back my smile as I pass the wall of windows that line the sidewalk, but I manage. I’m a pro at a poker face. Having Autumn as my special project is very fucking tempting. It’s something to think about.