What the Heart Knows, page 1
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2012 Shyla Colt
ISBN: 978-1-77130-085-8
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Marie Medina
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
Thank you to the man upstairs who gives me the strength, patience, and creativity to juggle all the roles I’ve been assigned to and still manage to keep the words flowing on the paper. To my family and friends who constantly support me, I appreciate each and every thing you do. Especially my husband Rich who’s my real life hero, and my daughters who make strive to be a better person daily.
LLL- I love you ladies, your kind words, encouragement and support are amazing. Nichelle, you always cheer me on and offer up the best support, I’m proud to call you friend J, M and Jessie ,thank you for all the plotting sessions. Portia- thank you for the info and honest opinions. Readers, thank you for all the love you show me! Without you guys I’d be nothing.
WHAT THE HEART KNOWS
Shyla Colt
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Oliver clenched the steering wheel of his car tight as he sat on the side of the dirt path. This was the closest he’d come to her grave since they lowered her casket into the ground two years prior. He called himself a million different names: coward, asshole, bastard, murderer. Yet, none gave him the final push needed to stand in front of the marble slab that marked Hannah’s final resting place. It made him sick to his stomach to think of her six feet beneath the cold ground. Her golden skin must be rotted away by now. The flesh disintegrated to reveal yellowed bone until Hannah’s features were unrecognizable. He pried his hands from the wheel and ran them through his hair.
Despite the years, her presence continued to linger. He could smell the scent of lavender in their home and on the clothing items that had belonged to her. The shrink told him the memories would fade over time, and become less vivid. Yet, it was a rare occasion when he didn’t wake up and expect to roll over and see her beside him. It was like being trapped inside of a nightmare, only he was awake.
“Fuck!” He slammed his fist into the steering column.
How much longer could he go on like this? He’d given up on shrinks a year ago, sleeping pills were a last resort, and neither prayer nor meditation helped clear his mind. Oliver’s body shook as he peered out of the window to look over the grass littered with rounded stones and statues. He was just a hundred yards away, but it seemed like a million mile trek. Fat droplets of rain began to splatter against the windshield before the gray sky unleashed a torrential downpour. It was fitting that the heavens leaked the tears he no longer had the ability to make. He let the white flag of surrender rise in his mind as he turned on the engine, put the car into drive and pulled away from the dirt road. Maybe he’d have better luck next year.
Once he exited the cemetery, Oliver navigated the slick roads as he drove aimlessly. Home was the last place he wanted to be. Hannah’s ghost haunted every nook and cranny of the three-bedroom ranch they’d purchased in their early twenties. A well-lit shop window caught his eye, and he pulled over into a parking spot nearby. The shop window read Cupa Tea in black cursive lettering, and he felt himself pulled to investigate. As a freelance photojournalist, mom and pop coffee shops like this one were practically a second home. Once he parked he made a dash from his car to the black awning attached to the building. He stepped inside and felt relieved that it was empty. Solitude suited him right now.
Oliver shrugged out of his jacket. A perusal of the room revealed warm yellow walls, and dark wooden tables with high back chairs. A glass counter displayed pastries, bagels, and cookies to the right of the register. However, it was the full head of chocolate curls that caught his eye. The sienna-skinned woman at the end of the counter glanced up from the notebook she’d been bent over and pierced him with the biggest pair of milk chocolate colored eyes he’d ever seen. Fringed with dark lashes, her enormous peepers seemed to peer inside of him. Her full pink lips spread into a sheepish grin as she pushed up into a standing position, and placed the notebook out of sight behind the bar.
“Sorry, it’s been slow today with all the rain. You’re the first person to venture inside in over two hours.”
Oliver nodded, as he took a seat on a stool near her. The kindness that poured off her was almost tangible as she moved to stand in front of him with a large smile on her face.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“I’d like a latte, hold the heart.”
“See, I wouldn’t have pegged you for the heart type anyway.”
“No?” he asked.
He was curious to see what the woman would say next.
“I have knack for these things,” she said.
He found himself responding almost against his will as her energy pulled him away from the grief that had weighed on him heavily. A part of him latched on to the reprieve.
He arched an eyebrow as she turned to glance at him over her shoulder while she prepared his drink.
“I can see you’re a skeptic, but I think I can change your mind.”
She gave him a wink, coaxing a real smile for the first time in days. It was freeing to interact with someone who didn’t know a thing about him. Maybe for one night he could pretend he wasn’t hanging on by a thread. He smirked as she continued to block his view with her body. She had spunk. The whoosh of the shiny silver machine ended and she walked back toward him with a giant white mug.
“Here you are, my good man.”
“Oliver.”
“Hi Oliver, I’m Juniper, but everyone calls me Juni.”
“Juniper?”
“Our last name is Bloom, and my parents fancied themselves to be comedians.”
Oliver laughed when she wrinkled her button nose to show her displeasure. He glanced down at the latte design he could only refer to as art. She’d made a series of small pictures that ranged from three inches to about half an inch. The largest was a planet with a large ring around it, which she surrounded with smaller stars and planets.
“Whoa. I didn’t know you could make such intricate outlines.”
“Well, this is my parents’ place. So, to be fair I’ve had years to perfect my technique.”
She leaned her side against the counter and tilted her head.
“Now you have to taste it. Pretty decorations are one thing, but it’s the taste that really counts.”
“I almost feel bad drinking this,” he said. His brow furrowed as he lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. The creamy, rich flavor filled his mouth and he moaned his appreciation.
“My compliments to the Barista.”
Juni smiled and glanced down almost bashfully.
“Thanks.”
She moved back to the latte maker and began a methodical wipe down with a white cloth. Silence fell over the café and Oliver found himself shifting his weight as he drank his latte. He was never really one for small talk, but this girl had him wanting to learn more about her. Dressed in a pair of well-worn denims that showcased her slender frame, and a plain white t-shirt that hugged round, high breasts, she had a girl next door appeal. He bounced his leg as he racked his brain for something to say. Was he really this rusty at making conversation? She looked up from the notebook she’d laid back on the counter to scribble in and smiled.
“Is this your first time at Cupa?”
“Um, yeah, how did you know?”
“Lucky guess. I’m here most of the time, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you.”
“Maybe I’m just not that memorable.”
“Trust me, you are.”
His lips twitched up into a smile as she ducked her head and glanced away. Her oval-shaped face disappeared behind a voluminous curtain of curls. Her coyness stirred a long dormant emotion inside him. Like a gust of wind that ignites kindling.
“Do you draw?” he asked. He nodded his head toward the black and white composition book laid out in front of her.
“No, I’m not really much of an artist.”
“What then?” he asked. “Or are you going to make me guess?”
“I think you should. After all, I did for you with my Latte Art.”
“Fair enough, what do I get if I win?” he asked.
“Oh we’re gambling now?”
“It might make things a bit more exciting,” he said.
Her eyes lit up as she leaned towards him with her elbow on the counter.
“Well, what are the stakes? What do you want?” she asked.
You. He cleared his throat, and moistened his dry lips with his tongue as he inhaled her scent. She smelled floral and light, just like her name.
“A kiss.” He felt heat rush to his cheeks the moment the words left his lips. Had he really just said that?
Her jaw dropped as she blinked.
“I’m sorry. Did you just say a kiss?”
“I did, Juniper Bloom.”
They locked gazes and he wondered how old she was, and if he’d finally lost what was left of his
“Deal, you have three tries.”
Her swift agreement surprised and further excited him.
Oliver nodded as he leaned back and studied her. Her eyes were those of an old soul. She’d seen a lot of things in life, and that lead him to believe it was writing of some sort.
“Is it a novel?”
“Strike number one, Oliver.” Her full lips curled up into a smirk.
“Poetry?”
“Strike number two, you might want to take your time before you ask that last question.”
He scratched his head and leaned back as he examined her once more. In spite of her youthful appearance, Oliver sensed a deep being. One he felt as if he’d met before. He’d always heard of déjà vu, just never experienced it firsthand, until now.
“A journal entry?” he asked.
“Close, but no cigar.”
“What are you writing then?”
“A list,” she said.
“Of things you need to do?’
“Sort of.”
His interest was piqued, but he backed off, sensing her reluctance.
“Since I lost, what do you get?”
The tension faded from her body as she smiled. It was fitting that she’d have her secrets ‘cause Lord knew he had plenty of his own.
“How about three questions?”
“Shoot.”
“What brings you into Cupa? You seemed sort of sad when you came in.”
“It’s the anniversary of the death of a loved one, and I just didn’t feel like going home to an empty house.”
“Oh my God! I am so sorry—”
“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”
“My curiosity often leaves me with my foot in my mouth.”
“I bet it’s also led to a slew of interesting stories,” he said.
“Baristas are kind of like bartenders that way.”
“You are incredibly easy to talk to, and you still have two more questions.”
“What do you do for a living?” she asked.
“I’m a photojournalist.”
“Like for a newspaper?”
“I could work for one, but I opt to go the independent route and do freelance. It gives me the ability to pick and choose what I work on.”
“That is very cool,” she said. “I bet you’ve seen a lot of different places.”
“Are you interested in travel?”
“It’s high on my to do list.”
“Is this the mysterious list you were working on earlier?” he asked.
She gave a quick nod before she narrowed her eyes.
“I thought it was my turn to ask questions.”
“You’re right.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Proceed.”
She leaned forward over the bar and his throat went dry as the white t-shirt pulled tight across her full breasts. It’d been such a long time since he admired the female form. Shit! It’d been even longer since he touched a woman. Saliva filled his mouth, and he swallowed, feeling like Pavlov’s dog. Jesus, was he that hard up?
“Has your mood improved since you arrived?”
“By leaps and bounds.” Yes, he was.
His eyes lowered and locked on the full lips a hair’s breadth away from his own. Juni seemed so fresh and unspoiled. He wanted to sample a bit of her goodness. This woman must be a siren, because regardless of the voice in his head screaming all the reasons this was wrong, he leaned forward to press his lips against her own. It was a simple press of two mouths together until she gasped. He took advantage of the invitation her open mouth provided, and resigned himself to a spot in hell. It was the anniversary of his wife’s death and he was making out with a stranger.
He tilted his head for a better angle and moaned when her unique flavor tantalized his taste buds. Juni was ripe like fresh fruit with a dash of honey and some familiar tang he couldn’t pinpoint. A growl rumbled in his chest when her hands came up to cup the back of his head, and she returned his kiss with a passion that set him on fire. This did not feel like a first kiss. It seemed like a return home. He jerked away, confused by his emotions and ashamed that he was making out with someone else to divert his attention.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. She glanced up at him with glazed brown eyes. Her fingers were placed lightly on her lips.
“Why not? Are you seeing someone?” The horrified look on her face made him smile.
“No, but you don’t seem the type to do casual, and you don’t know me from Adam.”
“Not everything in life makes sense.” She leaned against the counter with what could only be called a dreamy smile. He envied her lighthearted take on life.
“There’s a connection between us I haven’t found with anyone else. What that means, I’m not sure yet.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty-five. How old are you?”
“Thirty-five, thirty-six in a few more weeks.”
“You didn’t deny the connection.”
“No, I’m not the type of man who kisses random women he comes across.”
She smiled full out, and he knew right or wrong, there was no way he could simply walk away from her.
Juni was the first good thing to happen to him in a long time; and if he were a glass half full type of man, he’d take the fact that he’d met her on this particular day to be a sign. Great, I really am losing it if I’ve turned to new age mumbo jumbo to explain what’s going on. I’m extremely lonely and Juni is gorgeous, sweet, and by some incredible stroke of luck, attracted to me. Why shouldn’t I go with the flow? Tonight is soon enough to return to my depressing reality.
“What time do you get off?” he asked.
“In about thirty minutes, do you want a touch up on your coffee?”
“Sure.” He observed her as she refreshed his drink. She had the long, slender fingers of an artist, and her movements were easy and graceful. A Zen-like calm seemed to roll off her, and he wondered what she did to achieve it. Was she one of these new age, healthy food and yoga types? Or had she been through something that had shaped her attitude?
She replaced his cup of coffee.
“So, are you going to ask me?” she asked.
“Ask you what?”
“To do something when I get off work,” she said.
“You don’t hold your tongue, do you?” He was amused by her frankness.
“I learned a long time ago life’s much too short to live with regrets and what ifs.”
Oliver drew his eyebrows together as he turned her words over in his head. She had a story, but it was too soon to ask her what it was.
“Are you sure you’re only twenty-five?” he asked.
“I’m what you’d call an old soul.”
“I can see that.”
“You have that same look in your eyes,” she said.
“What look?”
“The one that says you’ve seen more than you should have.”
He shrugged, relieved when she moved on to small talk.
Chapter Two
Juniper couldn’t help but wonder if the handsome ash-blond haired man who sat in front of her was a figment of her overactive imagination. Nordic gods with angular jaws, porcelain skin, and broad shoulders didn’t just walk into Cupa and proceed to kiss her senseless. From the moment she’d locked gazes with his jade green eyes an electric current had sparked inside her, and she been pulled toward him like a magnet. It wasn’t like her to flirt or let a man charm her, but there was something about him that was different. As if you have any real experience with a man. She mocked herself mentally, and refocused on the mirror she stood in front of. He’d ask her to dinner when she got off her shift, and really she had no choice but to say yes.
With one last fluff of her curls she grabbed her purse and walked out of the back office.
