Page 43 of Beneath the Indigo Sky

“Later.”

This time, my groan is long and deliberate, and I’m pretty sure that I might not survive the next seven hours.

Chapter 13

Jayce

I’m nervous, standing in front of Namid’s door. I’ve never done this before. Sure, I’ve trolled tourists for hookups, but even that has only ever been once a year at the most. I’m dressed in the same thing I wore to Jordyn’s funeral - my black dress pants and a green and black flannel shirt. It’s not fancy, but it’s the nicest thing I own. I run a mechanic’s shop in a small Alaskan town; it’s not like I need a wardrobe full of expensive couture pieces. I’ve never been on a date, not really, and I’m not sure what I’m wearing is okay. I hope Namid will like what I’ve pulled together for us this evening. I think he will, but what happens if he doesn’t? What if the first real date I ever have ends up being a fiery crater of awfulness?

He opens the door the moment I knock. Did he move to stand at the door when he heard me pull into the gravel driveway? Was he standing there waiting for me? Tonight’s storm is blowing in a cold front. The strong winds will bring snow within the hour, and it’s possible he didn’t even hear me pull up. Could he feel me arrive when I got close to his cabin? Can he tell how nervous I am? Is he nervous too?

My breath rushes out in a startled exhale as I take him in. He’s beautiful. He’s always been beautiful, but I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s wearing all black - a soft, fluffy sweater and skintight black jeans, the ends of which are tucked into tall, black leather boots that hug his lower calves. There is some kind of product in his hair, not much, but enough that the stray long strands that normally threaten to cover his eyes are held in place just over his forehead.

“Jesus, Namid.”

He grins as he grabs his jacket and shrugs it on over the sweater.

“Acceptable then?”

“We could stay here, and I can see if I can make you come without even undressing you instead.”

We’ve never even suggestively joked with one another before, but if I’ve startled him with my directness, he doesn’t show it. If anything, he looks like he’s thinking about taking me up on the offer, and it makes me wonder just what goes on in his head when he doesn’t have to hold his comments back for fear of misunderstanding or disapproval.

He wiggles an eyebrow as he finishes pulling on his jacket.

“Maybe later, and only if I can return the favor, but right now, I was promised a date.”

He interlaces his fingers through mine as he steps close and pulls the door shut behind him, and the shiver that runs through me has nothing to do with the crisp fall evening and everything to do with the warmth and strength of his touch.

When I walk with him to the passenger side of the truck and open the door for him, he pauses for a moment, indigo eyes smiling up at me.

“Thank you.”

There is something almost unsettling about the slight tremor in his voice. I don’t think anyone’s ever done anything as simple as opening a door for him before, and he doesn’t seem to know how to process it. It breaks my heart a little, and I want to open every door for him for the rest of my life.

He seems a bit confused when I follow him into the door’s opening as he hops into the cab. When I parked, I’d turned the dashboard defrost on high and piled a small throw blanket on the vents so that it would be heated by the time we got into the truck. I reach in, leaning over him slightly, to grab it and lay it across his lap.

His hand catches my wrist as I step back to shut the door.

“Jayce.” My name falls from his lips in an almost pained whisper.

I raise our hands and bush my lips across the back of his knuckles before lowering them back to his lap and slipping my hand away.

“Get used to it.” I offer a grin as I step back and make my way to the driver’s side.

I take a few deep breaths of air so cold it burns my lungs to steady myself on the short walk around the truck. He’d looked like he was going to cry for a second there over something as simple as a the offer of a warm blanket.

The moment I have my seat belt fastened, his hand comes to rest on my thigh and I curl my fingers around his. While the drive into town is quiet, it feels right. Neither of us feels the need to fill the time with unnecessary small talk. We’re already comfortable enough with each other that we can sit and process our emotions while we watch the flurries starting to swirl in the beams of pale yellow that the headlights carve out through the darkness.

When I park in front of my shop and finally turn my head to look at Namid, he’s grinning over at me with one aggressively raised, questioning black eyebrow.

“Shall we?” I ask as formally as possible.

“I’ve definitely got to hand it to you. No one is going to give it a second thought that your truck is parked in front of your own shop.”

“Told you that you can trust me.”

His smile softens slightly. “I know I can. Now come on, I’m excited to change some spark plugs.”

---