Fate's Dark Shadows: A stand-alone age gap small-town romance Read online

  And that’s as close as we come to talking about what happened earlier, when he spilled himself on me. Braced me against the wall. Showed me how he saw the thing I craved.

  Do I obey my hunger and thirst? Do I give in to my aching back that’s crying for a soft mattress?

  Do I let my demon dance with the devil himself?

  Finally, he clinches it.

  You can wash your clothes.

  I gather my things. I guess we’re gonna dance.

  Chapter Seven

  Maya

  The following day as I clock in at work, Ruby notices something.

  “What’s that, on your apron?”

  Oh god, I thought all of that…stuff…came out in the wash.

  I run my hands over the spot where Doyle left his mark, but there’s nothing there. Of course, it came out, silly. You washed it twice. Once for the stain and another time for how horny you got remembering what he did to you.

  “What? Where? What do you see?” I ask, sounding like a paranoid person.

  Ruby steps over and picks a chunk of lint off it, and shows it to me. I exhale in relief as I watch her toss it into the trash.

  “Lint from the dryer,” she says, smiling. Her face then grows concerned the more she studies me. “Are you okay, honey?”

  The truth is, I’m far from okay. I’m better than I was in Gold Hill, living under my stepfather’s roof. But am I okay?

  Let’s see, I just met an eccentric older man who can’t stop looking at me as if I’m the last canteen of water on the Oregon Trail. In one day, I witnessed that man: get in a fight because of me, chase me away when I tried to help him, ejaculate all over me, and try to insist I take a $500 tip. In the end, he followed me to my hovel and coerced me into moving into his supervillain castle.

  “I’m just rattled from yesterday still,” I say.

  “Silent Doyle get under your skin?”

  My eyes wide, I nod my head, swallowing.

  Ruby sighs and nods her head. “Well, here’s a little background that I know that might put you at ease. His uncle ran the textile mill for decades, then fell ill about ten years ago. Doyle moved back here from New York to take care of him when nurse after nurse quit.

  Doyle tried managing the mill for the old man for a few weeks to see if he could hack it. It didn’t go well. One of the operators … well, we don’t need to talk about that right now. There was a lawsuit and the mill settled out of court. Suffice it to say, Doyle saw it all happen and wasn’t…right in the head after that. He couldn’t take over the business. The old man was so spiteful and mean that his last will and testament included shutting down the mill. He’d said that if the Adams family can’t run the mill and keep the money in the family, then no one could have it. So, about half the town relocated to find jobs.”

  This entire story breaks my heart wide open. I begin to understand things a bit more about the man, and I feel as if I could cry. Still doesn’t make me less afraid of how much I lust after a man I barely know.

  “That’s so sad. Poor Doyle.”

  “Those events a few years back cracked that man in half. He rarely leaves that old house except to walk up to the diner every morning. Some of the local teenagers love to say he’s a vampire.”

  I snap my eyes at Ruby. “Seriously?”

  Ruby laughs. “Crazy, right?”

  I shake my head. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I can’t serve him if he comes in again.”

  Ruby studies me for a beat, then says, “Doyle? If? Oh, honey, he’s here every day, and he’s harmless. He won’t bother you. Trust me.”

  I stammer, “It’s not that, it’s….”

  “Listen, I know you aren’t trying to be rude, but people are different and have different needs. One thing you need to learn about Fate is we take care of each other.”

  I can’t tell her what’s really bothering me. I can’t tell her that the real reason I don’t want to serve Silent Doyle is that I don’t wish for everyone to notice me trembling every time I go near him. Everyone will see me blush and sweat and know that something happened between us. It’s embarrassing because we just met, and my emotions are out of control.

  Ruby sees the wheels turning in my head and says, “Maybe you need to meet some other people. How would you like to help me with something? I mean, outside of work? It might help you get to know your neighbors and make some friends.”

  If I could get to know someone other than Silent Doyle, and take my mind off of him, then I’m happy to do it.

  Ruby’s right. I need other friends. I ask her what it is she needs help with.

  “Next Saturday is our first annual Fall Fiber Festival, and I’m on the volunteer committee. Billie Jane, Juniper, Izzy, and I are all working with the knitting club to organize it, but we could always use more hands. What do you say?”

  I jump on it and tell her yes. “I’d love to help. It sounds fun.”

  Finally, I’m going to meet some ordinary people. People who communicate with words.

  Out in the dining room, the bell rings. Ruby peeks around the corner.

  “Look who’s back. And he’s at your table again.” She winks, then hands me a menu. “He texted last night looking for you. He says you dropped your tip at his house, and he wanted to return it.”

  My cheeks heat. I stand there looking dumb, trying to think of a cover story. What’s my reason for being at Doyle’s house last night?

  “Oh, that,” I say, laughing, despite the thrumming of my pulse heating up my cheeks. “I helped him get home after the fight in the parking lot. I felt bad about everything, so I tried to leave the money in his foyer after he got home safe, but he’s not letting me return it for some reason.”

  Ruby studies me, slightly squinting. “Well. Maybe he felt guilty for starting a fight in the restaurant and for you having to see that.”

  I nod and awkwardly smile at her, then notice the prickling sensation in my veins when I put one foot in front of the other to go and pour the coffee in Doyle’s cup.

  I’m so nervous; I’m glad we don’t have to talk. Because honestly, I would not know what to say.

  The coffee pot is the perfect excuse to not make eye contact, even though I know he’s staring me down.

  Remember how content you were last night, Maya. When no one was looking.

  Last night, after showing me my pick of rooms in the hallway at the opposite end of the house, Doyle left me alone. Completely alone. I didn’t see or hear him as I went about my business. I washed my clothes, helped myself to the robe in my new bedroom closet, showered, and stuffed my face. His fridge was full of produce, and I chose a bowl of some cut pineapple, which tasted like heaven. His pantry was chock full of junk food, surprisingly. To which I also helped myself. Moon Pies? Don’t mind if I do.

  Maybe he is a vampire who can read minds and knew exactly what it would take to make my blood nice and juicy and full-fat, and what it would take to get me to stay.

  My hand trembles.

  The large, sinewy hand covers mine. That same hand that I watched do sinful things yesterday. Things that I would never have seen had I not walked into his house uninvited.

  My eyes notice how much larger his hand is. My fingers disappear under his. My blood pressure settles under the weight of him. My skin crackles like kindling under the touch of his skin.

  Doyle gently guides me to set the coffee pot down on the table and let go. I watch him take the pot himself and pour himself a cup.

  I try not to stare, but his eyes on me are so forceful that I can’t hold back any longer, and I cut my gaze to meet his. Those silvery-blue irises regard me with nothing close to the anger I saw last night. He looks neither apologetic nor needy any longer. He’s trying to communicate something. It’s close to what I feel, too. It’s a longing in his eyes.

  I don’t know what to do with myself under his gaze, so I pick up the menu and point to the same thing he ordered yesterday, a questioning expression on my face.

&nbsp
; He nods, unsmiling.

  I take the menu and go to lift the coffee pot, and then he blesses my opposite hand with his touch. He’s grabbed me, keeping me from leaving to put his food order in. I look down at our joined hands, which cling together in some sort of strange handshake.

  I watch as he then lifts the back of my hand to his mouth.

  “The teenagers like to joke that he’s a vampire,” were Ruby’s words. The strange old mansion, the wild, lustful behavior, the overall strangeness, and now this old-world manner of kissing my hand. Maybe he is.

  He seems to be daring me to look away as his soft lips brush against my knuckles, one at a time, so slowly that I’m sure everyone is staring.

  I should pull away; I should be embarrassed. But all I have is a trembling in my soul as he locks his stare on my face. My index finger, and then my middle, and then my ring, and then my pinky. Fire surges through every nerve ending. I can feel his touch all the way from my scalp to my knees. This man has no shame. He doesn’t give a flying twig what anybody thinks of his attraction to me. Instead, he’s brazenly kissing my hand in front of the entire town of Fate. Or at least 15 to 20 of the 500, which is all it takes to spread rumors.

  Wordlessly, I jerk my hand away and march back to the kitchen, putting his order on the lazy Susan.

  Paul, the cook, eyes me like I’ve grown a second head out of my shoulder. I must look out of sorts. I can feel every pair of eyes on me in the entire place. I glance back, and even Flash, the golden retriever town mayor, is staring.

  What is wrong with everyone? What is wrong with me?

  I have to pull myself together. I’m just going to pretend everything is normal. If people suspect something is going on between Silent Doyle and me, then so be it. Let them talk. Sooner or later, they will find something else to talk about. Right?

  Wait a minute, what am I even saying? There’s nothing for anyone to talk about because literally, nothing has happened between us.

  Okay, so I trespassed under the pretense of looking out for his well-being and he jizzed on me like a maniac, but nobody knows that. All they know is he kissed my hand.

  Slowly, sensually, and not in any way in a grandfatherly gesture.

  So there’s that.

  Damn, I need to talk to other people because this silence thing is messing with my head.

  Chapter Eight

  Doyle

  I don’t want to go home.

  I feel like an angry toddler inside. I thank god she didn’t punch my lights out for kissing her hand.

  I know what I did. My subconscious is ramping it up. I just feel so damn much relief when she’s close to me. I express next to nothing to everyone around me. I deny myself so much pleasure. That public display was both gratitude and self-serving; I wish to publicly claim her. Everywhere. All the time. I’m pushing it out there into the light for everyone to see. I’m coming out from the shadows.

  This time, Maya didn’t freak out and run away. True, she’s a captive here because of her job. It’s a miracle Ruby let me stay for Maya’s entire shift.

  Maybe I’m just a piece of shit. I just can’t stop looking at her, touching her. Being near her makes my head feel better. She makes everything feel better.

  I hope to return the favor. I want to take care of her, shelter her from whatever it is that made her up, and leave a nice place like Gold Hill with its jobs, and Targets and colleges and guys her age who are not lonely recluses who remind her of Grim. Grim? No, I think she said Gru.

  I’ve spent too much time in my head with this vow of silence.

  I need to get out and do things for someone other than myself for a change. This community has been far too kind to me in my anguish, and my textile baron uncle took everything away from them.

  They deserve more than what my odious family has perpetrated in Fate.

  Maybe my godawful therapist is right. Fuck.

  I’ll take a walk and think about it.

  Just as well, I feel like walking. I have no desire to go back to my dull house if Maya isn’t there. The rooms all sit empty except for mine. The kitchen has appliances fit for a king, and I never use them. Oh, I know how to cook, but I became weary of cooking for one even after my dreadful uncle died.

  Reading books? I’ve read everything there is in this library, plus everything worth reading at the library in Gold Hill.

  Maybe I’ll just take another walk. Around the square, I slink past the cemetery. According to the town charter, I’m supposed to be leading the ghost tour on Halloween this year. Everyone who fits the costume has to take a turn. What a ridiculous concept!

  I stroll past the exhibition pavilion at the yellow monstrosity made of yarn. A family of four is taking pictures next to it with the sign proclaiming our town is the home of the world’s largest ball of yarn. I can’t handle the way this entire town makes me cringe sometimes.

  Too bad the treatment center is closed. Some of these people need to be rounded up and supervised twenty-four-seven.

  The defunct textile mill is the most gut-wrenching part of my walk.

  All those people either went to work in Gold Hill or they moved away. This town can’t even claim to be a quaint bedroom community any longer. The only thing that’s going to bring people back to Fate is jobs. Real jobs. Not flimsy tourist attractions. And my uncle took that all away, out of spite.

  That was my primary reason for allowing Rex’s girlfriend Juniper to access some of the old equipment in the mill. She and the knitting group figured out how to use the leftover fiber and machinery to make the yarn ball.

  At one time, Rex hinted at maybe opening the mill again, but I don’t know how I could do that without a considerable client to buy the products. I know how to build wealth; I know about investing. I have no idea how to run a business and be responsible for the livelihood of hundreds. Not without people getting hurt or killed. The memory of that day triggers a crescendo in the manageable noise in my head, and pain rattles my skull. I remember the grounding skills my therapist has been teaching me, but when I close my eyes, I see it. The weaver, his name was Burt, had worked a double shift and was the only person who knew how to use the outdated power loom. He was tired. My uncle refused to upgrade to better, safer equipment. But nothing in the plant had been upgraded in decades. I saw it happen, and then the noise that machine made when Burt was helplessly caught. I watched as someone ran over to smash the kill switch. Metal ground against metal. We all ran to help, but it was too late. The machinery ground to a halt, and only then could the shouts and screams be heard. The blood-curdling cries that echoed in my head are nothing compared to the grief felt by his family.

  This town is a mess because of my family, and that yarn ball symbolizes that mess. I don’t know why anyone would be proud of that heritage.

  I stroll by the yarn ball and notice that the city has built a small kiosk to post announcements.

  “Fiber Festival Seeking Volunteers!”

  At this, I pause and read the flier.

  It seems not only do we have a yarn ball, but people are attempting to make Fate known as some kind of fiber arts hub. This breaks my heart even more than the yarn ball.

  As I read more, I turn over the idea in my mind.

  If this is what they want, maybe they don’t associate me with the town falling to pieces. Perhaps it’s not about me. Perhaps this is where I begin. What I need to do to occupy my time — actually getting to know other people in the town.

  Maya knew me for less than five minutes, and all she wanted to do was help me. I grew up here, and I keep everyone at a distance. Maya’s goodness has helped me put things in perspective. She is new breath in my lungs. She cares for people with no expectation of anything in return.

  Maybe I should consider the same. Not to get her attention, but just because it’s the right thing to do.

  Chapter Nine

  Maya

  Meeting all these people after work is just what I needed.

  We’ve all gathered at the
mayor’s residence, a quaint Victorian house on Main Street, for dinner. Ruby is slightly tipsy from Juniper’s homemade wine.

  Izzy and Danny have brought homemade spaghetti and meatballs.

  Rex isn’t contributing a lot, but mostly hovering over Juniper and offering a growly comment about needing to get to bed early tonight.

  Judging by the way those two are looking at each other, I’d guess he’s not talking about sleep. My palms sweat at the thought of it. I bet he’s rough.

  What am I saying? I’m not even attracted to that man.

  I have to get sex off the brain, is what I have to do.

  Izzy and Danny have a whole vibe of their own going on. The two of them are their own snark fest.

  I’m thankful that fellow single women Billie, Ruby, and councilwoman Becky are here, or I’d feel uncomfortable with all the sexual energy in the room.

  After Ruby and Izzy are about three glasses of wine in, there’s a knock on the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Juniper says, but just as she rises, Rex jumps in between her and the door.

  “Babe,” she says gently. “No one is coming to our house to make you react that way. Remember? Jimmy Earl’s still in jail.”

  That seems like a story. I bite my lip and wait, glancing around the room. Juniper leans over the table to tell me the short version while Rex answers the door.

  “My ex-brother-in-law followed me all the from Nebraska and tried to kidnap me, and he’s right now awaiting sentencing for the murder of my abusive ex-husband. It’s a whole thing.”

  “Nebraska?”

  She nods her head. “Car broke down, and Rex put me up without even asking. I guess you could say it was an instant connection.”

  My eyes wide, I nod and feel grateful inside to know that Juniper isn’t from here originally, either. I also note the similarities. Fate seems to be full of men who don’t let their women out of their sight once they clap their eyes on someone they like.