Bite Me.

Ch 2

Branson Mills was a bustling little town set in a deep river valley. Tall hills framed either side and the winding river cut through the heart of the town. It had once sported two active mills – lumber and flour, hence the name. Over time, they had fallen out of use but the name hung on, its history ingrained in the town. With a population of next to nothing, everyone knew everyone and if they didn't they knew someone who did. Though small by city standards, Branson Mills was just big enough to warrant a hospital, post office, library, two grocery stores, and all the other odd shops that make a town a town and it hadn't been too difficult to find a job at the boutique on historic Main Street. With everything from a floral shop to a wedding dress parlor to a café, Something Blue had a little something for everyone. I'd only been there about a month but as one of three full-time employees, it felt like my own place most days. Mrs. Potts who owned the shop was getting on in age and treated us girls as her own children. Granted it helped that she had known us since we were toddlers.

I pulled my old silver Passat into the parking lot a few blocks away and trudged to the door. Mrs. Potts was already there tending to an unusually large number of customers all buzzing with conversation. They all turned their heads when I walked in and the chatter died down. I knew everyone was talking about me. In a town this size I'm sure even Denny Cutright, the town recluse, knew what had happened to me last night. Mrs. Potts, bless her soul, met me at the door and I had barely removed my coat before she pulled me into a tight hug and was patting my back, whispering reassurances. I hadn't realized how barely I was holding it together until I broke down in tears at the display of affection. Pulling back, she saw my state, and ushered me through the crowd, whacking on the back of the head those who stared a little too long.

She pushed me into the office before turning to address everyone. "You all mind your own business. The poor dear's had an awful fright and you sorry lot aren't making anything better. I don't mind that you're eatin' my food and drinkin' my coffee but you'll not be getting' any information out of me or poor Mira." And with that she gave me a grandmotherly smile and pointed to the desk with instructions to sit and recover then get to work. "Workin'll do ya good. Get your mind off things." And that was Mrs. Potts, a little blustery on the outside but with a heart of gold. And everyone knew it. She'd lose no business over her outburst earlier. Everyone respected her too much.

And she was right about the working, of course. Flower orders poured in all day with the local high school's homecoming fast approaching and Mary and I were whipping out corsages and boutonnieres all day. Before I knew it, it was lunch break and I slumped into a booth too exhausted to move. My lack of sleep from the night before was catching up to me. A piping hot cup of coffee was placed in front of me and I looked up. "Thanks, Mrs..." I started but trailed as I saw who was standing there.

A low chuckle met my words and the sexiest voice I'd ever heard drawled out, "It's been a long time since I've been confused for a woman." And of course, I had to agree because there was no way in hell the man standing above me could be anything but masculine. He was tall, well above my 5'9" and had a cut figure that rippled underneath his dark wash weathered jeans and leather jacket as he gestured to the empty side of the booth. Remembering my manners, I let out a hurried, "Of course." To which he grinned. And the man had dimples...fucking dimples! Lord help me.

Once he was seated I could take in his features better. His face was in a word perfect. Black hair was pushed back like he'd ran his fingers through it recently. Dark eyebrows cut across his brow and hovered over equally dark eyes. And fuck...his beard. It was dappled black and grey-the only thing betraying his age which had to be mid-forties. Every line, every angle was sculpted to sheer perfection. The man was a walking ad for sex and danger and I shifted in my seat at the dirty images my mind was conjuring. Clearing my throat and taking a sip of coffee, I looked back at him to find him smirking at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking.