5. Celina

FIVE

CELINA

I'd written another twenty pages, and my creative juices were fully drained. It was like I'd run a marathon. Wanting to do something a little less intense, I lay in bed that Wednesday and scrolled through Pinterest. I enjoyed crafty things and was looking for a little project to kill some time and clear my mind before I went back to writing. There were a few I'd saved that looked fun.

But I had no supplies. It was one of the few things I didn't like about being out of the city. Back home, I could have anything I needed delivered. Even stuff from home improvement stores could be sent right to my door. Here? I had to go out and get it myself. Ugh, dealing with people was exhausting.

Still, I wanted to do the projects, so I got ready. Breakfast of a banana and a cup of coffee was enough to fuel me for an hour out in the real world. A quick internet search showed me a craft store a half-mile down the road, which would probably have all the items I needed. It was cool out, but not as brisk as the last few days, so I decided to go on foot.

Ten minutes later, I was greeted with another cute building that fit perfectly with the rest of the town. Inside, I found almost everything I needed in the first three aisles. I cruised around the store, checking out all the other things they had.

At the end of the painting supplies row, I felt a twist in my gut. Frowning, I put a hand to my stomach. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was weird. The thought that I was getting sick or something flew from my mind when I glanced at who passed by the end of the aisle—my neighbor Miles. My eyes bulged in surprise, and I hunched my shoulders, trying to hide behind my shopping cart. Thankfully, he didn't see me and continued shopping.

What was a guy like that doing in an arts-and-crafts store? I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he didn't really seem like the type of guy who scrapbooked or made shadow boxes. Why the heck was he here? My curiosity got the best of me, and I had to find out.

As I crept around the corner, I caught sight of Miles's broad, muscular back. He was talking to a store assistant by the woodworking section. The associate was doing her best to explain something to Miles, but she looked flustered. Thanks, sister . At least I wasn't the only one who lost her shit when talking to the walking sex god that was my neighbor. Seeing someone else struggle to think when looking into those beautiful brown eyes made me feel better.

My mind did what it always did and built a little fantasy about what was going on between the two:

"Ma'am, can you help me?" Miles asked

"Oh, of course, sir. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I couldn't help but notice you standing there, and I needed some help."

"Help? With what, sir?"

"Well, you look like you're really good at woodworking. Can you help me work my wood?"

I snorted. Honest to God snorted. The sound was loud enough for both the assistant and Miles to look my way. The assistant looked curious, but Miles raised his eyebrow as soon as he saw me. I wanted to melt into the floor, turn into a puddle, then evaporate. If I was truly lucky, whatever cloud I turned into would float about three states over. My face flamed, and I attempted to look like I hadn't noticed them as I preoccupied myself with a selection of fake flowers.

I had no need for plastic and silk flowers, but I didn't let that stop me from acting like they were the most beautiful and interesting things I'd ever seen in my life. I grabbed a massive handful of them and rushed back over to my cart. Thankfully, I'd grabbed everything I needed before seeing Miles, but I still had a crazy moment where I contemplated simply sprinting from the store and leaving everything.

The idea had merit. I could always return in a day or two to grab what I'd left…except then there would be the embarrassment of explaining to the store clerk why I'd run out the front door like my hair was on fire. No, best to get it done and get out. If luck was with me, I'd be back in my car before Miles was done shopping, and I'd be gone. Dust in the wind.

Luck told me to go fuck myself. The two registers in the store were busy, and it appeared every chick in the whole county had decided today was a great day for crafting. Then again, it made sense since Thanksgiving was only a few days away. Tons of people were making pilgrim and turkey crafts, plus getting a jump of Christmas decorating. Whatever the reason, I groaned at the number of people. For the second time in forty-five seconds, I thought about leaving everything.

I studied the things I'd picked up and wondered how much of an asshole I'd be if I left and the staff had to put everything back. A warmth filled my chest like a comforting blanket being laid across my shoulders, and I knew Miles was right behind me. No idea why I felt the way I did, but I knew. There seemed to be some sort of aura coming off him that engulfed and warmed me.

All the paranormal novels I read nagged at the back of my mind—supernatural creatures and the power they exuded. Was he some sexy humanoid alien? Maybe he'd come to Earth to try and repopulate his species. I was the only woman on the planet that could help. We'd have to…

I shook the fantasy from my head and crept forward as the line moved. It was agony. Forcing myself not to glance behind me, I kept my eyes on the cashiers. My teeth creaked as I ground my molars together in frustration. They, literally, couldn't have moved any slower. Now that he was behind me, I was stuck. It would be even more embarrassing to leave now.

"So, what kinda project are you working on?"

Yelping, I spun on him. His words had startled me, and I'd only barely managed to stop myself from screaming. The yelp alone was ridiculous enough to send my mind into another spiral of mortified horror.

"What?" I asked.

He chuckled. "I said, what are you workin' on?" He nodded at my cart.

Again, I was struck by how handsome he was. It was like some Renaissance marble statue had come to life and was standing right in front of me. I stood, speechless, and he cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," I blurted. "All fine. You muscles…shit, I mean you must think I'm crazy." My face felt hot enough to fry eggs on it.

"I don't." He smiled. "But you still haven't answered my question." He gestured behind me. "Plus, the line's moving."

"Oh damn." I pushed my cart forward and looked back at him. "Anyway, I was bored, so I decided to put together some home decor things. I know I'm only here for a few weeks but…I don't know. A little homey touch seemed warranted." He stared at me, not speaking. It made me think I'd said something wrong. "Sorry, you probably think it's crazy to decorate a house you're going to be in for a month."

"I don't think you're crazy." His voice sounded strangely gruff and strained. "If it's something that makes you happy, then you should do it."

I nodded to the stuff in his hand. "What…uh…what brought you here?"

I was proud of myself. I was having an honest-to-god conversation––with a real, live person, no less. Not only that, it was a person I found incredibly attractive. Was this real life? Is this how normal people interacted? If so, I could get used to it.

He lifted the items, "One of my best friends has a little boy whose first birthday is coming up. I'm doing a wood carving for him. I needed some low grit sandpaper and a new riffler."

"What the hell is a riffler?" I blurted and immediately clapped my hand to my mouth.

He laughed and held up a weird little metal tool. "It's for wood carving. Basically a specialty file for getting into tight, hard-to-reach spots."

"Oh, that's cool. Pretty sweet of you to hand-make a gift for a little boy like that." I wasn't just making conversation. It really was a nice thing to do.

He looked into my eyes for several seconds. The expression on his face was unreadable, and my face warmed again. Thankfully, the line had started moving quicker. A register had opened, and I pushed my cart to it as quickly as I could.

Of course, instead of moving to the opposite register, Miles followed me. Something about him was so intimidating, but not in a bad way. He was the embodiment of power and strength. I'd never met a man who had that same sense of gravity about him.

As the cashier rang up and bagged everything, I realized how much stuff I'd gotten. Between the supplies I needed and the stupid ass fake flowers, it would be a fun march home. I was still dealing with the minor PTSD from carrying my groceries up the stairs a couple days ago.

I started hooking my fingers through the handles of the bags. Miles checked out fast, then stood next to me as I loaded up.

"I didn't notice your car in the lot. Did you walk here?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Bought more than I planned. It was a nice day, and I decided to leave my rental at the apartment."

Miles nodded and grabbed the last three bags off the counter, then strode to the door. Blinking in surprise, I hurried after him. "Wait. What are you doing?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm being a good neighbor. I'll walk you home and help carry your stuff."

"No…um…Miles, it's fine, really. I can carry my stuff. I don't want to put you out."

He ignored the comment and crossed the parking lot. His truck was parked near the door of the shop.

"What about your car? You can't leave it here."

"Why not?" He laughed.

I stopped and looked at the truck, then at his back. "Uh, because it's your freaking car, right?"

"It'll be fine there for thirty minutes. I'll jog back and grab it once you're settled back home. You need the help, and I'm happy to lend you a hand."

My feet seemed to move on their own, following him. That simple sentence was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me. It was a sad truth but true, nonetheless. Since I reckoned my protests would fall on deaf ears, I hurried until I was walking beside him.

It was a ten-minute walk to the apartment building, and we walked in silence from the store. That had made me uncomfortable. As little as I enjoyed conversation, awkward silences were even more painful. I kept sneaking glances at his face every few seconds, trying to gauge how he was feeling. Frustration? Boredom? Irritation? No matter what, he had that same contented grin on his face. Men were so damned weird.

Miles walked me up the stairs and even took all the bags while I got my keys out and unlocked my door. He handed all the bags to me. "Thank you," I mumbled.

"Any time. If you ever need anything, just knock. I'd be happy to do anything you need."

"Oh, okay, thanks," I said, surprised by his offer.

He looked at me for a long time, pinning me in place with his eyes. For some reason, I couldn't move. I was frozen and waited for him to say something, anything. Instead, he sighed, deep and dramatic, then headed to the stairs. He disappeared down the steps without another word. I chewed at my lip, wishing I'd said something else. Had he expected me to invite him in for coffee or tea? Had I screwed up? Ugh, I wished I had more experience with this.

I put the craft supplies away, keeping the ones I planned to use for my first project on the table. All the while, thoughts of Miles flitted through my brain. Every type of thought. Romantic thoughts of him bringing me roses and champagne; childish thoughts about him rescuing me from monsters; dirtier thoughts about him peeling my clothes off and doing things to me I couldn't even imagine.

Before I knew it, my laptop was in front of me, and four hours had gone by. I'd actually finished my original manuscript and was ten thousand words into a brand new book: a story where the main character was a man with supernatural powers, gorgeous looks, and a powerful aura like…what? I thought about it before typing it.

Like an alpha wolf.