Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Autumn

Standing in my kitchen, I'm freaking way, way the hell out. The clock over the stove is glaring at me with the time. It's five ‘til six, and Striker will be here any second.

After he left, Athena came and found me. I'm sure she saw how freaked out I was because she pulled me into my office and demanded I talk to her, tell her what's going on, what Striker said to freak me out. By the time I finished, she was staring at me with a huge grin on her face.

When I asked her what was so funny, she told me right off that she thought it was a good thing. That I needed to be home at six. She would handle closing the café for me, and I didn't have anything to worry about.

That wasn't true. I had tons to worry about. One of them being what I'm going to wear. Essentially, I'm going on a date with a guy I've crushed on since the first time I saw him. Today, he'd spoken to me for the first time and in doing so, freaked me out even more than I thought possible.

I'd come home, showered, shaved, brushed my teeth, lotioned my skin, and did minimal makeup. I wasn't big on heavy, never was. I stick to a light foundation, a bit of blush, eyeliner, and mascara. I dressed in another pair of jeans, these with rips in them at the knee and on the thigh. I went with another T-shirt, this one with an Alice in Wonderland theme that says ‘We're all mad here' and has the Cheshire cat on it with his grin.

I probably should've gone with something more appealing, maybe even sexy, but I didn't. He's the one who said we were going out. Not me. I didn't want to. A part of me is screaming caution, stop, and don't go any further. But since he's supposed to be here imminently, I've no choice but to yield and see what happens.

A knock on my door draws me out of my thoughts, my panic nearly getting the best of me. I could possibly not answer the door. He'll go away. Maybe go to the café to find me, but I won't be there. I'd be here, hiding, closed in to my apartment.

I couldn't do that, could I?

Another knock comes, and I find myself moving toward the door.

I look through the peephole and nearly lose my breath at the sight of Striker standing there.

Oh my.

His hair looks damp, like he'd taken a shower. Or it's most likely coming from the rain since it's still pouring outside.

Either way, he looks great. I shouldn't be opening the door to him. I should make him think I'm standing him up.

"Open up, Autumn. I already know you're in there," he says, loud enough for me to hear through the door but not exactly shouting.

Taking a breath, I step back, unlock, and open my door. I barely get it fully open before he's pushing through, bags in his hands.

"Close the door, babe," he says, heading toward my kitchen.

"What are you doing?" I ask though I do it while closing the door, eyes on his backside. The way the jeans form to his ass is an impeccable sight.

"Figured with the weather being shitty, you workin' all day, we'd do Mexican and put a movie on." Striker sets the bags on the counter and starts unloading. "Didn't know what you liked, so I went with a bit of everything. That way, you could pick and choose what you want."

Well, you couldn't go wrong with Mexican in my book. I loved it. "Where did you get it from?"

"Only place worth eating in town," he answers, lifting his gaze from his task to grin at me. "Come over here and pick what you want, then we'll figure out a movie."

"I don't have cable or anything," I tell him, not in the least bit embarrassed.

You've got a smart TV. You don't need cable as long as you've got Wi-Fi," he announces.

This is true.

I have a subscription to Hulu and Paramount Plus. I couldn't go without NCIS and now Fire Country . I find myself fascinated by Bodie on that show. He's hot, and his build reminds me of Striker's. And when it comes to NCIS , nothing beats watching Gibbs do his thing. That and Tony, the way he is with Ziva. You could tell he is in love with her. The two of them had an instant connection.

"What apps you got?" he asks, nodding at the TV, then looking at me to see I still hadn't moved. "Babe, seriously, get your ass over here and pick out what you want."

I come out of my stupor completely and make my way to the counter, what I don't do is answer him. Instead, I look at the different clear container lids and spot one that has the three amigos in it. It's my favorite, thatand the pollo con crema.

Deciding to get a plate, I move to the cabinet where I keep my dishes and pull out two plates. No reason to eat out of the containers.

I set the plates down and open the lid on the three amigos.

"You didn't answer me about the apps, babe," Striker says while I scoop out a bit onto a plate.

"Hulu and Paramount Plus," I answer and set the container back down.

"No Netflix?" he asks.

"Um, no." I shake my head and lift my gaze to his. "I don't need it. There's nothing on there I'd really want to watch."

"Right." He grins and makes his own plate, taking the rest of the three amigos, and adding a burrito with cheese sauce slathering it. "You done makin' your plate?" he asks, nodding to the small portion I served myself.

"Um, I suppose I could do a burrito as well."

Without a word, Striker loads the second burrito onto my plate.

Once we've got our plates loaded up, I follow him to my living room and remember I didn't offer him a drink .

"Um, do you want tea or something?" I ask, setting the plate down.

"You don't have beer?" He cocks a brow, taking a seat.

"No, I don't drink." It was true. Before everything, I could have a great time and not have to drink to do it. I was perfectly fine with sweet tea, which is basically all I ever drink except for my coffee or the occasional herbal tea. "I have tea and water."

Striker stares at me a beat before nodding. "Tea it is, then."

"Okay, be back," I mutter and rush to the kitchen, somewhat in a hurry to get away from him. I don't get why he makes me so nervous.

"You mind if I download Netflix? We can log in on my account."

"I suppose." Reaching into another cabinet, I grab him a glass. Fill it and top mine off.

He doesn't say anything, and I don't, either, while he downloads and pulls up Netflix. Moments later, he's got it up and put it on a show called Wednesday .

"This show, Lila had me watch it with her. It's good," he explains, setting the remote down and picking up his plate.

Without giving any regard to him saying the show was good, I curl in the corner of my couch, though it's not far enough from Striker.

For a short while, I can ignore his closeness. Mostly because he's right, the show is good. But I also absolutely love the Addams Family movies, so it goes to say I'd love this show.

By the time I finished my plate and set it down on the coffee table, Striker had already finished his. He'd gotten comfortable having stretched out, legs on the corner of the coffee table, his boots off it, thankfully. Not that it would really matter, it's a cheap coffee table. Striker also stretched his arm along the back of the couch, his fingertips touching, more like brushing my shoulder.

His touch, no matter the briefness of it, is more than enough to send my nerves into overdrive. My nipples feel hard against the light padding of my bra, and my panties feel damp. I'm by no means a virgin, but it's been well over a year since I've been with anyone. And I haven't even tried to give myself an orgasm. I'm always too exhausted to even think about it, let alone finding someone to give me one.

After the first episode, Striker lets it play into the second one, only he doesn't keep the distance between us. He leans in my direction, wraps an arm around my shoulders, and tugs me toward him. For the next however many minutes, he keeps me tucked into his side while the show plays, but I can't focus on it.

All I can think about is how good he feels and the smell of his cologne. It's going to my head, and I can't deal with it right now. It's too much.

Finally, I find the courage from somewhere deep inside to clear my throat and tilt my head enough to ask. "What are we doing here?"

Striker dips his head so our noses are nearly touching. "We're chillin' and watchin' Wednesday ."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why all of a sudden you decided we were having dinner together, let alone watching TV." Believe what he says, right, easy. Someone doesn't do something without altered motives.

"What makes you think I haven't been thinking about it for a while and just decided to finally act on it?" he asks.

"Because I'm not blind." I don't bother hiding the sarcasm in my voice.

"Wanna explain that?" He shifts, cocking a brow.

"Means, I know I'm not your type. You've never noticed me before, and suddenly you're here," I state, also not hiding my annoyance.

Striker shifts, twisting until he's facing me, and he reaches out to curl his fingers around my neck. "Alright, Mama, I was gonna give you at least tonight. Let you get to know me."

Mama?

Earlier, he'd called me Babe, now he's calling me Mama? What is going on in his head? I'm not anything to him.

"I don't get what you mean by letting me get to know you. Why would I want to do that?"

Striker's eyes shimmer like he knows something I don't. "Mama, you want to know me. I wanna get to know you. So, I'm gonna tell you here and now, we're gonna get to know each other together. Starting tonight . . ."

His phone rings loudly in his pocket, interrupting him and making his eyes look like he's pissed at the call coming in without him even seeing who it is.

"You better get that," I say, trying to pull away. Only he tightens his fingers in my hair while using his other hand to yank his phone out of his pocket.

Again, without looking, he swipes a finger across the screen, puts it to his ear, and demands, "What?" He listens for a brief moment and curses, eyes flashing with fury. "Fine, I'll be there soon as I can."

I don't know whether to feel relieved he's leaving or disappointed.

"Right, yeah, I'll be there," he says and drops the phone from his ear, anger vibrating off him as he shoves the phone back into his pocket.

"So, you, ugh, have to, um, go, huh?" I blather.

Striker's angry eyes come to me, and his nostrils flare like he wanted to breathe fire. "Yeah, shit happened, and I need to get to the club."

"Something happened at Devil's Nirvana?" The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it.

Striker's eyes lose some of the heat in them as he watches me closely. "No, I gotta get to the clubhouse."

"Oh, um, okay." I'd heard stories from Kenny and the others about what happens at the clubhouse, and I don't think that's somewhere I'd ever want to be. The things I heard women do there, I don't think I could handle seeing. Even when I catered, I was out of there as quick as I could. "I guess I'll see you later then."

Unfortunately for me, Striker doesn't allow me to pull away. "Not so fast, Mama."

There it is again, him calling me ‘Mama'.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" I whisper.

"I'll explain that tomorrow evening when I get here," he murmurs, leaning in close. "I'll be here same time."

"I can't," I utter, dropping my gaze.

"Then tomorrow I'll be at the café when you finish up for the day. You're on the back of my bike," he announces and leans in closer. "Now, since our night is being interrupted early, I'll tell you this. You might think it's sudden. It might just be, but you and me, we're gonna see where this goes. It might lead to nothing, but I'm willing to bet it'll lead to something else entirely."

My stomach tightens, and I swear butterflies start fluttering loud enough I can hear them.

"Tomorrow, when I pick you up, we'll talk. You'll listen, and I'll explain the way things are gonna be between us."

"What if I don't want there to be an us?"

Striker grins and leans in even closer, so much so that his lips brush mine when he speaks again. "Autumn, you want there to be an us. It doesn't take much to see that. The way I make you nervous, it ain't a bad thing. You just gotta get used to me, and you will."

I part my lips to say something, but I don't get the chance to do that, mostly because he's kissing me, his tongue taking the parting of my lips as his opening. It's not a small kiss. It's not a deep one, but it's a good one. The best. No sooner he kisses me, he pulls away, lets my hair go, and gets to his feet.

Striker grabs both his plate and glass, as well as mine, and takes them to the sink before heading toward my door."See you tomorrow, Mama, don't forget to lock up."

I sit there for long moments staring after him, well after the door closes behind him, thinking about how much trouble I'm in where it concerns him.