Page 21 of Messy AF
He’d already lathered so much on me before we’d left the house that I smelled like a goddamn pina colada. Exactly how long did he expect us to be out in the sun?
“I’ll let you know.”
The line moved slowly, but unlike other places, no one complained. Eventually, Tobi got his croissant—a chocolate chip one the size of his head—and we went in search of a quiet place for him to enjoy it.
At the edge of the plaza, the crowd thinned, and we found an empty section on one of the brick barrier walls. About three feet tall and topped with stone slabs, the walls provided both beautyand functionality, offering seating where space didn’t allow for traditional benches.
Tobi tucked into his pastry, wiggling with obvious enjoyment. Bits of crusted bread flaked off with every bite, dusting the front of his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice, let alone care.
“When you’re finished, I thought we could browse the different stalls.” No hurry. No pressure.
“I’d like that,” he answered, giving me one of those radiant smiles I loved so much. “Actually, there is one table I want to check out, but I don’t even know if it’s still here.”
I arched an eyebrow in question, waiting for him to elaborate.
“The last time I came, there was this guy selling these big jars of honey. You could sample them, and they all tasted slightly different.” He paused, his eyebrows drawing together in concentration. “Something to do with the bees and where they get the nectar?” He waved his pastry around and shook his head. “Something like that.”
I knew exactly which table he meant. “The guy’s name is Chuck, and as far as I know, he’s still here.” At least, he had been the previous summer. “He usually sets up around the same spot, so he shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
Honey side quest locked and loaded, he seemed to eat with more enthusiasm, polishing off the entire croissant and licking his fingers clean. He’d probably end up regretting the sugar bomb later, but for now, he was happy.
“Ready?”
“Wait here.” Popping to his feet, he pressed his water bottle into my hands and pointed to the sign over the adjacent alleyway, indicating the public restrooms. “I’m going to use the bathroom and wash my hands. I’ll be right back.”
“And maybe clean your shirt off too.”
He glanced down his front, then stuck his tongue out at me, giggling as he walked away and disappeared into the alley.Chuckling at his silliness, I leaned my back against the narrow tree trunk behind me and settled in to wait for him.
The flow of pedestrian traffic waxed and waned as people came and went from the market. Some passed through empty-handed, or with nothing more than a single cup of coffee. Some shuffled along, arms laden with paper bags or jute totes.
I grinned as I watched a little boy toddle after his parents, his tiny frame bowed backwards as he struggled to carry a mini watermelon. Under no circumstances would he allow his dad to help him, though.
I admired his tenacity, and I imagined the world would be a lot different if adults had that kind of confidence in themselves.
The minutes ticked by. Two. Three. At the five-minute mark, I started to get restless. When ten minutes had passed without any sign of Tobi, that restlessness morphed into concern. And when he still hadn’t arrived after fifteen minutes, I couldn’t wait any longer.
Even if there had been a line at the urinal, he should have been back by now.
Pushing up from the wall, I tossed the empty water bottle into a nearby bin and headed for the alley.
I stopped outside the men’s room, my palm pressed against the door, but I didn’t go inside. Beneath the stench that always accompanied public facilities, I inhaled the fragrance of sun-drenched laundry, faint but recognizable, leading away in the opposite direction of the plaza.
Pushing my sunglass up to perch on top of my head, I continued down the alley, my heart beating into my throat as the muscles in my back knotted with tension.
It was quieter here, the buildings buffering the noise from the market, but I didn’t hear Tobi. I hurried my steps, searching for any sign of my mate as I went. I didn’t know what I had expectedto see, but of course, I found nothing. Just his unmistakable scent, clean and bright.
And laced with a tinge of anxiety.
I thought I detected another familiar smell, but I couldn’t untangle it from the odor of rotting garbage and stale urine that saturated the air. Unable to place it, not sure if it even mattered, I focused on Tobi instead.
His scent grew stronger as I neared the end of the alleyway, and I slowed my steps, forcing a calm I didn’t feel as I listened for anything out of the ordinary. I heard a faint scuff, the crunch of gravel, the hum of traffic, a quiet, flirtatious giggle.
But no Tobi.
Emerging into a gravel parking lot, I scanned the area, squinting against the glare of the sun off car windows, but I still didn’t see any sign of my mate. His scent, however, led me around the corner, past a barber shop and a small boutique to the entrance of another, narrower alley.
Then I heard it. Tobi’s voice.
