I crossed my legs and sipped on my coffee, flinching as the piping hot brew made contact with my lips. When Martha had sent me that text requesting a tour guide for her guest from New York, I had expected to see some rich, spoilt brat who had more money than sense and was looking for new ways and new places to blow their allowance. So, I was a little shocked when Oliver strode into the coffee shop dressed in black basketball shorts, a black tank top, and running shoes. His blonde curly hair came down to his shoulders. He was tall, almost as tall as I was and my eyes were drawn to two piercings he had in only one ear.
I raised my hand as he began to look around the shop, and I watched as he took a few strides to my table. His bright blue eyes met mine and my eyes caught in my throat. Ethereal. His eyes told a story of their own. A story of someone who has seen pain…known pain…weathered storms. There was a sharpness to them, a wariness that I'd seen before in people who had been hurt more than they let on. He wasn't what I expected. Rough around the edges with a calm exterior. I found it intriguing. I only realized that I had been staring indiscriminately when he cleared his throat. I blinked and looked up at him. He cocked his brow at me, and his eyes swept the length of my frame. I watched as his lips pursed, as though he had just judged me and found me severely wanting.
"You must be Gabriel," he said. His statement sounded like a question.
I nodded and stretched out my hand to him. "Yes, I am. And you must be Oliver."
Oliver claimed my hand in a firm handshake, manicured hands wrapped around mine, and the coolness from his ring in contrast with the heat of his palm. I felt a stirring in my chest, but before I could decipher what it was, Oliver pulled his hand away and sunk himself into the chair across from him. He leaned back in the chair, making himself comfortable, and looked out the floor-to-ceiling window.
My mouth opened and shut, and then a laugh bubbled in my chest and subconsciously, out of my mouth. Oliver turned sharply to me, his brows drawn together in a frown.
"Is something funny?" He asked, his tone seemingly confrontational.
I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Goodness, no. Just remembered a funny event, that's all."
Oliver nodded slowly, not believing my story, but not contesting it either. He went back to looking out the window, whatever it was he was looking at must be more interesting than the person across from him.
"Do you want anything? They make amazing pastries."
Oliver spared me a glance. "No. I already had breakfast at Martha's."
"Ah…Martha. How's the old lady doing?"
Oliver shrugged. "She's fine," he replied curtly, his eyes still fixated on the view outside. His tone suggests that he wouldn't entertain more questions.
I felt a slight unease in my chest at his dismissiveness. I could tell he was distant, was that responsible for lack of interest in small talk, or maybe he just wasn't interested in talking to me? My chest tightened even further and my wolf whined in my head. He wanted to come out and howl at the moon, he wanted me to fall to my knees and profess undying love to this man…this man who couldn't be bothered to look me in the eye.
I sipped on my coffee, hoping that the hotness of the brew would burn me back to reality just like it had before. Unfortunately, I had no such luck as it had cooled to more agreeable temperatures.
"You know, Martha has been in this town for a while. Some might even say she's as old as the town, and she's got a knack for bringing people together."
Oliver nodded in agreement. "Yes, she does," he said. "She has a very charming personality…you can't help it." He added after a while, as though he had thoroughly contemplated his response.
I nodded, trying to think of what to say next.
There was something about Oliver that intrigued me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. He was distant, yet there was a depth to him that made me want to dig deeper, to understand the layers beneath that calm exterior.
"So, what brings you to Crystal Cove?" I asked, figuring it was a safe enough question. "Just here to get away from the city?"
Oliver hesitated for a moment before answering. "Something like that," he said, his tone giving away nothing.
I chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension that seemed to hang between us. "Well, you picked a good spot. This place has a way of making the world feel a little less… chaotic."
He looked at me then, really looked at me, as if he was trying to figure out if I was someone worth talking to.
After a moment, he nodded, almost imperceptibly. "That's what I'm hoping for."
It wasn't much, but it was something. A small crack in the wall he'd built around himself. I decided not to push him any further, letting the silence between us settle into something a little more comfortable.
"So," I began, changing the subject. "What do you want to see today?"
Oliver cocked his head to the side and studied me. "You're the guide, are you not?" He asked.
I shrugged and laughed nervously. "Well…"
"Then guide."
Oliver's gaze pierced mine, his eyes, for the first time since he stepped foot in the café, focused on me and were alive.
I smiled at him. "Of course. What do you want to see today? The cliffs are always a good choice, especially this time of year. Or we could take a stroll through the market if you're in the mood for something more laid back."
Oliver glanced at the menu on the table, though it didn't seem like he was reading it. "The cliffs," he said, finally. "I'd like to see the cliffs."
"Great choice," I said with a smile, relieved that we had a plan. "The view from up there is incredible. You'll love it."
He gave a slight nod, and I could see a hint of something in his eyes—anticipation, maybe, or just curiosity. It was hard to tell with him. But at least he was opening up if only a little.
I stood up and grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair. "We'll take my truck," I said, gesturing for him to follow me. "It's a bit of a hike once we get there, but I promise it's worth it."
I held open the door for Oliver and nodded my head in acknowledgment of his muttered appreciation. Just as I moved to follow him out the door, a hand on my shoulder stopped me. I turned in surprise to see the elderly shop owner looking at me with a grave expression on her face.
"Yes?"
"Be careful with him. He's not what he seems."
And without waiting for me to respond, she turned on her heel and left me standing there and staring after her. I walked out to meet Oliver, who was waning against the passenger door, waiting patiently. I couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind. He was a mystery, and part of me was eager to unravel it. But another part of me, the part that had learned to be cautious, knew that getting too close too soon could backfire.