5. Romi

Chapter 5

Romi

After a long sleepless night, I'm sporting dark raccoon eyes and a good case of bedhead. I spent the entire night tossing and turning like a fish out of water, absolutely kicking my own rear end for bolting out on Sullivan like I was being chased by a pack of werewolves.

Sure, my heart was pounding out of my chest, but it wasn't from fear. Well, not the kind of fear you'd find in a haunted theme park, anyway. No, this throb was pure adrenaline mixed with scary emotions caused by the shocking connection I felt with him.

Fast forward through a night devoid of any dreamless sleep, and I'm back at Trick or Treat, sleeves rolled up, and trying to focus on the mundane comfort of restocking the bar.

The bar is still quiet, save for a few early-bird regulars who treat this place like their own personal coffee shop, which is fine as long as they're paying. I'm trying to immerse myself in lining up the bottles of top-shelf spirits exactly three-and-a-half inches from the ledge when suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stands up like the universe flipped the switch labeled "cosmic chemistry."

I don't even need to turn around to know Sullivan just walked through the door. My pulse kicks up, ricocheting between excitement and anxiety. Part of me is elated, hoping maybe he's here to sweep me off my weary feet and prove our connection wasn't a fluke. The other part of me? Well, it's scanning for the nearest escape route.

Sullivan Midnight owns the room. Not just because his family basically founded the town, but because he's got this magnetic aura about him. Tall, dark, and handsome in the kind of way that sets my entire system on high alert and causes my lady bits to wake up and sing even after the solo-workout they got last night.

Time to confront what I very stupidly ran away from. Swallowing hard, I paste a resolute, easy-going smile onto my face and prepare to turn around and face him, heart pounding like I've downed five espressos too many.

The late afternoon bar atmosphere feels suddenly warm and crowded, even though there's just a spattering of patrons. I feel a little better when I notice how disheveled he looks. Of course, he somehow still manages to carry the devilish, "I've come to suck your blood," kind of appearance. His dark hair is tousled more than it was last night, and those bright blue eyes scan the room, settling on me with a look that's somewhere between happy to see me and ready to strangle me.

"Good afternoon, or whatever passes for it in our little nocturnal town," I greet, and trying to play it cool, slide the bottle into perfect alignment without dropping it.

"Hello, Romi." His voice, deep with a hint of unspoken things that could consume us both if we're not careful, tugs at something deep inside me. The fact that he says my name like it's some kind of invocation doesn't help my mushy heart or hussy girly parts.

"Hi." I paste a bright smile on my face that's as fake as the Louis Vuitton purse in my locker.

Sullivan slides onto a barstool and stares into my soul. "Got time for a chat?"

I blink, caught between wanting to confess every wild thought that's invaded my sleep and keeping them all tucked away safely on some dusty mental shelf. "I can talk and work at the same time. Let's call it multitasking." I gesture with a bar towel, trying to sound more playful than awkward. "As long as you don't mind talking amidst hangover remedy requests and cocktail prep."

He laughs, a sound rich enough to turn me into a puddle of goo. "I'm up for the challenge. Anyway, I wanted to apologize about last night."

Woah. Not what I expected. "Apologize?" I put my hands on my hips, eyebrows knitting together in genuine confusion. "If anything, I'm the one who should be apologizing for running out on you."

He leans forward, those sapphire eyes capturing mine. "I can see we really need to talk, little treat, and there's no way I'm letting you get away from me a second time." Intense Sullivan is way the heck more dangerous to my heart than the teasing version I met last night. I swallow, not knowing how to handle him like this. He's laying it out, unabashed, holding none of his cards too close to his chest.

Something shifts between us, a silent agreement hanging in the air along with the memory of our last encounter among the stockroom shadows. "I know… but I can't have this conversation at work." I fell in love with this crazy town the first moment I stepped foot in it, and I don't want anything to jeopardize my job or future in Midnight Falls.

Sullivan leans against the bar, his demeanor a mix of roguish and charming, like a hero straight out of a romance book—only I never imagined those dreamy characters making my heart pound faster than a bat in a belfry. The air between us feels charged with something new, something electric, and I decide it's time to stop overthinking everything and jump in with both feet.

"Would you have dinner with me," he starts, his voice cutting through the air surrounding us like warm butter, "so we can discuss things?"

"Like a date?" I don't want any other confusion or misunderstandings between us.

"Yes. The first of many I plan to have with you." I'm lost in those striking blue eyes that brim with a sincerity that sends my heart into a little happy dance.

"And if I say no?" I can't help myself—arguing is in my blood.

"Then I'd have to find a way to change your mind." His words send electricity flowing down my spine as I fight the urge to beg him to try.

"Oh. Then I guess I'll save you the trouble and just say yes." I mean, I wasn't really going to turn him down.

He blinks in surprise and then chuckles. "I was already gearing up with a list of counterpoints for your arguments."

"I do enjoy a good argument," I admit with a shrug.

"And I enjoy arguing with you," he replies with a grin. "See all we have in common?" I want to kiss his soft, warm lips again more than I want my next breath. "So, when's your next night off?"

"Tomorrow," I reply, trying to sound casual, but there's a thrill threading through my voice that I can't quite hide. Why pretend though? He seems to like my real self more than any masked version I might come up with, anyway.

"Perfect." He grins, bestowing on me that dazzling, slightly mischievous grin that could probably melt glaciers faster than climate change. "How about dinner at my house?"

My brain does a quick, anxious flip. Alone at his house. Swallowing, I throw caution to the wind. "Dinner sounds great," I say, hoping he doesn't notice the flush moving across my face.

"Great!" Sullivan replies, looking genuinely happy and a little relieved at my agreement. "I'll pick you up around seven if that works?"

"I can do seven, but I'll drive myself to your house." My older sister would kick my rear end if I let a guy I just met pick me up. Even if he's a billionaire. I can hear her safety-first speech echoing through my mind.

He opens his mouth and closes it before taking a deep breath and agreeing. "If you insist on driving, I'll give you my address." He takes my phone from me and types his address in my notes app.

With our plans set, he leans over the bar to give me a quick, panty-melting kiss before leaving. After he walks out, the air seems to lose some of its spark. But there's an indelible excitement left behind, reminding me that this is good, right? I mean, it's only my freaking heart and soul at risk. No big deal at all.

I return to my bar duties with a new kind of energy, popping caps off bottles and slinging jokes to patrons with ease. But as I'm mentally running through my wardrobe options for tomorrow night, out comes Tony, lumbering from his office with a look of concern visibly written on his face.

"Romi," he leans close so no one else can hear our conversation, "is Sullivan Midnight bothering you?"

Tony's a big bear of a man, and his concern for his staff is unmatched. He might come across as gruff, but he once gave me the day off when my landlady's cat got stuck in a tree, so I've got a soft spot for the guy. His usual scruffy demeanor is earnest, and I know he'd sooner run through a fire than let anyone mess around with his crew.

"Sullivan?" I laugh, wiping the bar for the millionth time, just to keep busy. "Not at all. He came in to invite me to dinner."

"And did you agree?" Tony echoes, one eyebrow raising in a classic, skeptical style that only he can pull off.

"I did." I can't believe I'm discussing my love life with my grumpy ex-mob captain boss. "I'm looking forward to it." I give him the slimmed-down version, leaving out the part where I jumped Sullivan's bones in the back stockroom.

Tony studies me like he's checking to see if I'm spinning tales or genuinely okay. "I'm glad to hear it. I want you to come to me if you have any problems."

"Thank you." I smile up at him, thanking my lucky stars I found such a wonderful boss.

"You're welcome." Tony nods, throwing an exaggerated watchful glance over the assembled patrons.

Tony heads back to his office while I pull myself together, getting ready to deal with God knows what once the bar gets hopping.