Rendezvous

A Great Idea

Jude

I'm an old fuck.

That's the first thought that hits me as I stand here like an desperate asshole, staring down at the box of donuts in my hand. I should be home, minding my business, instead of playing delivery boy for a woman I don't even know. Hell, I don't even know her name.

But here I am.

I was supposed to be a grown ass man. The guy who didn't let things get under his skin. Hell, everyone in town knew me as the dude who just didn't give a shit about anything that didn't directly affect him. But that all went to hell when she showed up with her sharp tongue, attitude, and curves that made my brain short-circuit every time she was within ten feet of me.

Why? Because I'm an idiot. A damn idiot. 

I sigh, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, my thoughts all over the damn place. What the hell am I even doing here?

I glanced back at the cabin, where I'd dropped her and her friend off yesterday. I should've had Jim tow their car and been done with it. That's what any sane person would've done. Instead, I fixed the damn thing and personally brought it back. Why? Because some part of me—some stupid, irrational part of me—wanted to see her again.

But it was a mistake. A big one.

The second I laid eyes on her, my world tilted. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. She was too young, fresh out of college with a whole future ahead of her. I couldn't tie her down to some old guy like me, even if my gut screamed that I would've wifed her up in a heartbeat if she was a little older. 

Why are you here, man?

She's everything I didn't know I wanted—smart, bold, and that body... holy shit. She's got a future ahead of her, and I've got... what? A motorcycle and an empty house. Here I am, an old bastard who's way too set in his ways to even be thinking about her like this. I shouldn't be. But damn it, I am. There's no place for me in her world. I should stay the hell away. 

But I can't. And that's the problem.

I shake my head, running a hand through my hair as I glance at the cabin again. I shouldn't be here. Not with her car, not with donuts, not at all. She's got no idea who I am, and that's how it should stay. But, damn, if she wasn't the first thing on my mind when I woke up today.

Something about her has me hooked. The way she looks at me, all challenge and attitude, like she's daring me to match her. And I do, every damn time. I'm not proud of it, but I'm obsessed. She's in my head, and I can't shake it.

You're too old for her. She's too good for you.

That thought should stop me, right? It doesn't. Instead, I'm standing here like an idiot, trying to come up with a reason why I didn't just stay home.

This was a bad idea. It was one thing to help out with her car—it was a professional courtesy, nothing more. But showing up here with breakfast? That was personal. That was me crossing a line I swore I wouldn't.

I glance down at the box of donuts again and sigh. Just drop it off and leave, I told myself. But I know damn well that's not happening.

Every time she flashed that smile or snapped back at me with a clever remark, it got to me. In the best and worst ways. I was hooked, obsessed, even. And that scared the hell out of me.

I sighed, glancing at the box in my hand again.

You've got to let her go.

But instead of turning around and driving away, I started walking toward the cabin.