Ember. | #1 Axis Series

3. The Delivery

I untangle my hair from its ponytail, letting the strands free. Today's work has been long and I find myself feeling grateful that it's Friday. I yawn softly as I undo my apron and hang it on a hook by the cash register. I venture to the back where Mom is gathering all the dirty dishes of the day.

"Mama."

Her head whips up. "Yeah, honey?"

"The last of the customers are gone. I'm off," I tell her.

"Alright, baby. Just be careful. I love you," she says, hugging me tightly. I make my way back to the front where I grab my things and head outside. The air is still humid as it was this morning. I see a man standing next to a Land Rover. He's tall and his hair is grey. He is wearing a black suit and holding the right passenger door open. I walk until I'm a few feet away.

"Miss Holbrook?" He asks. I'm surprised to discover that he's Australian. The accent fits him.

"Yes?"

"I'm Mr. Lancaster's driver, Forrest." He holds out his hand and I take it, shaking his hand. "Mr. Lancaster has instructed me to escort you to his state of residence," he says.

"Right," I murmur, inching into the vehicle. Forrest shuts the door behind me and I buckle my seatbelt. A minute later, he pulls away from the bakery. I pretend not to notice my mother's silhouette in the window.

The neighborhood that Troy lives in is vast. The mansions occupying it are works of art, each with a security gate and statuesque design. Troy's home, however, is the largest of them all, probably three stories high. It reminds me of something you would see in a magazine for rich housewives.

Forrest stops at the gate and punches in a code before ascending forward again. He pulls up to the front of the house and parks. He exits and returns to my side to open the door.

"Miss Holbrook."

"Thank you for the ride. And please, call me Ember," I request.

He nods. "Of course, ma'am. It's my job."

I proceed up the wide, stone steps of the house to the front door, hearing Forrest pull away behind me. I knock and step in the house, the delicious scent of meat searing invading my nostrils.

"Troy?" I call.

"In the kitchen," his deep voice calls back. When I make it to the kitchen, I see Troy at the stove, wearing faded jeans and a black Pink Floyd tee, making his back muscles stand out. I find myself gazing in awe at the tattoos that run up his arms and disappear under his shirt where they pop up on his back and chest when he turns to face me.

I think I just wet my panties.

"Hey, baby," he says, grabbing a knife out of a drawer by the island. "Come here."

I do as he says, stopping when I'm at his side. He wraps an arm around my waist as his lips skim my forehead and left cheek. Just as he's about to kiss my lips, he pulls away. I suck in a breath. I don't know if I'm ready for him to kiss me yet. It's kind of soon and I'm not all that experienced. My first kiss was in high school with a boyfriend who couldn't keep it in his pants. When the relationship ended, I was relieved that I hadn't given my virginity to him.

"You have tattoos?" I ask.

He smirks, his beautiful dark blue eyes meeting mine. "Yes. I've been getting inked since I was sixteen. That a problem?"

I shake my head. "I like them. They're beautiful," I blurt. I'm such a dork. His eyes fill with desire and I shiver under the intimidating gaze.

"You got any, babe?"

"No, unfortunately. Never got around to it," I tell him.

"We'll have to fix that," he mutters, running his fingers through his ink-black hair. He places another kiss on my forehead. "Why don't you take a seat at the bar? You like wine?"

"Yes," I respond. He's asking if I want wine? I think I've fallen in love. He cooks, he has tattoos, and he's the most gorgeous man I've ever seen. He's like a god.

I take a seat at the bar as he says, "Red or white?"

"Uhm...red," I murmur. He takes out a long stem glass before pouring in the wine and passing it to me. He grabs a beer for himself. "Thank you."

"Your welcome, babe."

After sliding the pork chops he was prepping into the oven, Troy sits across from me at the bar. "How was work?"

I take a sip of wine. It's smooth and comforting. "Busy, as usual. A few tour buses of people came in today, so we had to take care of that. The rest of the day was quiet afterward. What about you? Make any important executive decisions?" I tease.

He laughs. "Not today. That's on tomorrow's to-do list. I want to know more about you. Other than what your mother has told me."

I feel my cheeks heat. I can only imagine what my mother has told him about me. She has always had a knack for bragging about me or anything I do. "What do you want to know?" I question.

"How long have you worked for Anne?" He asks.

"About three months, now. I started right after I finished my internship."

He raises his eyebrows. "Internship?"

"Yeah. I have a degree in publishing," I retort.

"s**t, that's amazing," he says, clearly impressed. "Do you have a job lined up or anything? What do you plan to do?"

"Thank you," I shrug. "I applied for a job at a publishing house downtown and I'm waiting to hear back on my interview. If that works out, I'll have a job reading manuscripts," I explain.

"I wish you the best."

"Thank you. What about you? I mean, you know my mom and everything already."

"My mom and dad are great. They've supported every decision I've made. I couldn't ask for anyone more perfect for parents."

"They sound wonderful. What about siblings?" I ask.

"I have a little brother. Axton keeps to himself most of the time. He's actually touring with his band right now. He comes home in about a week, though. Do you have any siblings?"

I shake my head. "I'm an only child. My mom couldn't have any more children after me. She was lucky to get pregnant with me, at least that's what the doctors told her."

"What about your dad? Where is he?"

I hold back my emotions as I tell him, "He passed away a little over five years ago."

He wraps his hand in mine. "I'm sorry. Were the two of you close?"

I nod. "He was my favorite person in the world."

* * *

I feel myself being lifted and I open my eyes to see a hard, muscled chest in front of me.

"Troy," I whisper against his throat.

His arms tighten around me. "Shh, baby. Go back to sleep," he murmurs in my ear. I close my eyes again and drift at the feel of a warm bed beneath me.

I wake the next morning to the sound of the ocean and seagulls communicating. I sit up and the familiar surroundings of my bedroom come into view.

I'm at home? How did I get here?

A note on my nightstand catches my eye and I pick it up.

Em,

I figured you would like to sleep in a bed of your own right now. I'm taking you out tonight at nine. Be ready.

P.S. - Pack a bag.

- Troy.

I smile as last night floods back to me. After Troy and I ate the dinner he'd made, Troy led me to the entertainment part of the house where we watched a movie. I must have fallen asleep during.

I pull back the covers and make my way to the bathroom where I brush my teeth and use the facilities. As I wash my hands, I notice my hair is a rat's nest and my head is fuzzy from oversleeping. No more wine for me.

I head to my closet. I dig out my small duffle bag and gather a variety of outfits, packing them in. I finish packing the clothes and carry the bag back to the bathroom. I take out my toothbrush and other toiletries. I zip up the bag when I'm done and continue to the kitchen to start on lunch and get some laundry done. Today is going to be a busy one.

* * *

"You're going on a date with one of the most eligible bachelors in the world and you had no idea who he was when you met him?" My childhood friend, Cassidy Marshall, interrogates. She called to confirm the topic of me and Troy. Apparently, my mother thought it would be a good idea to tell both Cassidy and my other friend, Tessa Maroni, of my forming love life.

I snort. "I knew who he was from my mother talking about him 24/7, but no. I didn't know that he's a billionaire or that he's on the cover of every magazine known to man. And it's our second date tonight, not the first," I explain.

"Yeah. Right, okay. Well, call me and tell me how the date with the Adonis went. Tessa and I will just endure girl's night on our own," she remarks. Every other weekend for as long as I can remember, Tessa, Cassidy, and I have a girl's night where we watch movies and stay up all night. It's a tradition that we hardly ever break.

"You'll be okay without me for one girl's night," I reassure her.

"Whatever, b***h. I gotta go. Tessa is waiting for me."