Her long dark hair had been piled on her head. It was windy that day, and unruly tendrils worked their way out of the messy bun, gently moving against her cheeks. It had my entire body tightening so powerfully I had to know who she was. I needed to know everything about her.
Had that just been a year ago? Twelve months? God, it felt like a lifetime ago.
Although I wanted to make her mine from that instant, this wasn’t some movie, wasn’t some story playing out where I could go up to her like an alpha caveman asshole. So I befriended her, started conversation with her, tried to learn anything and everything about her. And then I found myself at church once I learned she was there every week.
And that’s where I’d be… because she was there.
I’d never been a “church-going guy,” and I still wasn’t, not in the technical sense. But I came here every Sunday, so I respectfully, politely sat in the back for an hour just so I could hear her play.
Amelia stepped down off the stage and made her way to one of the pews in the front, always taking the same spot. Three rows back. The seat farthest on the left-hand side.
As she walked to her spot, I followed her with my eyes, tracking her and never taking my eyes off her. My heart was in my chest the entire time. That feeling was so strong there was no denying it, no trying to pretend like I could control it.
Right before she took her seat, I saw the way her eyes looked up and caught mine, hers widening as she held my stare for a suspended moment. I clenched my teeth at the sensation that moved through me, this powerful electric charge spearing from her and going right into me.
She looked down quickly… so quickly I knew there was no denying she had to feel an intense attraction toward me. Of course it would never be at the level to which I felt toward her. It just wasn’t physically, humanly possible.
What I felt for her was like another living being inside me, one that grew daily, every second, of every minute, of every hour.
And as the sermon started, I never took my focus off Amelia. Her shoulders were pulled back, her body seeming tense. I knew she could feel my gaze on her. How could she not? I was blatantly watching her—shamelessly, if I were being honest.
And when she looked over her shoulder at me, I swore everything else faded away as our eyes locked once more. Hers widened another fraction, as if she was surprised to see me already watching her.
I’m always staring at you, Amelia. Always.
This low rumble threatened to leave me before I could stop it, my possessiveness for Amelia coming through as a physical reaction. It was ludicrous, an animalistic feeling in me. I’d never once felt this kind of intense attraction for anyone in my entire life.
This wasn’t just lust. No, it was more than that. I didn’t know what, but I knew I wanted to find out. I knew I wanted to explore it right above all else.
I knew I wanted Amelia like I never wanted anything in my entire life.
3
Amelia
I knew I was acting awkward. I couldn’t help it, not when every time I turned around, I saw him. Looking at me.
I sat at a picnic table outside, the lunch we always had afterward cleaned up and people started to say their goodbyes and head home. I left my hair down but glanced up, allowing the curtain of the dark strands to fall and obscure part of my face. It was a cowardly move, but it allowed me to see Braxton without him knowing I was blatantly checking him out.
He was off to the side, speaking with a couple of regulars who came every Sunday. I knew they were firefighters, just like Braxton, but I couldn’t remember their names. Didn’t matter anyway. I was too transfixed by Braxton to know or care about anyone else.
He towered over everyone, with broad shoulders, a wide, masculine chest, and rippling muscles that couldn’t be contained or hidden under his T-shirt.
“You played so beautifully today, Amelia.”
My thoughts and wandering eyes were drawn away from Braxton as I looked to my side at Mrs. Callendash. She was an older woman, and after losing her husband five years prior, she devoted herself to everything and anything that had to do with Cherry Falls.
If you needed someone to help organize a fundraiser, Lenora Callendash was your woman. If you wanted to throw a knitting party and talk about the latest gossip? Call on Lenora, because she knew everything about everyone.
Lenora was talking, but I wasn’t paying any attention to what was being said. I kept finding my eyes wandering to where Braxton was, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw him looking at me. His mouth was moving as if he was replying to whatever the other guys were saying, but never once did he take his eyes off me. And I was unable to take mine off him.
“So you let me know when your schedule is free,” Lenora said, her voice a bit louder, leading me to believe she already tried getting an answer from me.
I blinked a few times and looked at her, nodding and smiling, although I had no idea what I was agreeing to. But it didn’t matter, because her face lit up that I was obviously agreeing to do whatever she said.
“Oh, Charlene!” she shouted with a saccharine voice, her hand thrown up in a wave. “Darling, I’ll see you later,” she murmured to me but already started walking off before I could respond.
I exhaled, not realizing I’d been so tense with her standing beside me. I forced myself not to look at Braxton again, not to be that person. So I sat in silence, looking down at my hands, finding a loose thread on my skirt especially interesting.
But all too soon, a shadow blocked out the sun, and a pair of large, brown, worn boots came into view. I looked up, my heart in my throat, because I already knew who stood in front of me.
And then I locked eyes with Braxton, and the world tipped momentarily at his close proximity.
“You played beautifully today, Amelia.”
I started rubbing my palms up and down my thighs, the cotton of my dress began to bunch up from the frantic motion. I hated that I couldn’t hide my emotions, that they were always so visible, whether with fidgety hands or a red face.
Let’s also not forget the sweating.
“Thank you,” I finally managed to say. I was about to stand, when he sat down beside me, the scent of his cologne enough to make me nearly moan.
He just smelled so damn good.
We sat there for a moment in silence, and I felt awkward as hell. It wasn’t because of the quiet that surrounded us though. I was on edge because of my own nerves, and because of the fact that I was in love with this man, yet he didn’t know—and probably never would.
He was so close I could touch him if I wanted to. How many times had I envisioned doing just that? Too many. God, so many.
I looked around the picnic area, seeing everyone congregating after finishing eating, their smiles and laughter seeming to be drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears and the pounding of my heart against my ribs. The wind picked up, tangling the strands around my face, whipping them against my cheek. I could smell a concentrated whiff of Braxton’s cologne and found my hands curled around the picnic bench I sat on before I realized I gripped it.
As if it would steady me, ground me.
I felt so on display right now, figured everyone was staring at us, knowing—seeing—how much I cared for him, because I was being awkward as hell, but no one paid us any mind.
“The highlight of coming here is to hear you play, Amelia.”