Gypsy Kiss: Micah Part 7

"Thank you..."

I sensed his smile. "You're more than welcome."

Micah This time when Nic came in he found me sat on the sofa with a silly big smile on my face. He grinned back.

"Well, you look like you lost a quid and found a tenner...good day?"

I nodded happily. "The best. Making progress, bro. Just a matter of time."

He smiled again and patted my shoulder as he pa.s.sed and headed up the stairs. "Nice one, bro..."

Jewls I had taken Micah's advice and after a long hot bath I was snuggled under my covers, still playing about with my new phone. A scroll through the contacts revealed Micah's number, and work's number and nothing else. I had to smile. A scroll through the photos had me in hysterics it was full of Micah in various silly poses, pulling various silly faces. I couldn't decide if he was hilariously funny or insanely vain. This was a h.e.l.l of a lot of selfies.

Now I was just lying looking at the picture on my home screen. I know I'm short, but standing next to him I looked like a child, and with my ginger hair I looked like a...a...

Jesus, an Oompa Lumpa...

Oh G.o.d, I was way out of my depth here. And yet, the more time pa.s.sed the less afraid I was. He had told me he was a good person, and everyone I talked to about him said the same thing. It seemed his reputation was as the cheeky chappy of the park. He was gorgeous, and he knew it, and he'd had his share of women but...everyone described him as a decent man, loyal and respectful.

As I was nodding off, the phone beeped in my hand, and I looked to see I had a text message.

I opened it up to read it.

I want to be your last thought at night, and your first thought in the morning. Sleep well, you beautiful, beautiful lady. The first of many, many goodnight texts you can expect from me. One thing you will learn...I am persistent, and stubborn as h.e.l.l. Now sleep. Dream of me x.x.xx M x.x.xx I grinned to myself h.e.l.l no, I beamed. He obviously didn't realise that was already the case, had been since day one. I thought about him all the d.a.m.n time. He didn't need to buy me a phone to ensure that.

MAY.

Jewls I woke the following morning to my phone vibrating and looked at the screen, smiling to myself as I read the text waiting for me.

Morning beautiful. And a gorgeous Sunday morning it is too. Have a lovely day. I know you will x.x.xx M x.x.xx Just as I sat up, my doorbell went and I frowned. No one ever rang my doorbell. I felt a wave of panic that swept over me and for a moment contemplated just letting it ring. My heart was racing.

My phone buzzed again.

You gonna answer the door or not?

c.r.a.p. Micah, here, at...what time was it? Christ, eight o'clock. I scrambled out of bed, still half asleep and padded down the stairs, opening the door to a very awake, very jolly Micah standing on my doorstep looking absolutely delicious in faded jeans and a white s.h.i.+rt, aviator sungla.s.ses concealing his eyes. He looked me up and down and a huge smile spread across his face.

"Cute onesie..."

"Oh my G.o.d..." I muttered as I realised what I'd done. I was standing on my doorstep, at eight o'clock on a Sunday morning, wearing a Cookie Monster onesie. f.u.c.k.

He laughed a little and shook his head. "No, really. I like..."

"Um...uh...what um...what...?"

"We have the day off, right? Well...you do, I have a twelve hour s.h.i.+ft at the restaurant starting at noon. So...I was thinking. Would you like to join me for some breakfast, Jewls? And I know it means visiting our place of work on a day off, but I know this great little cafe. I'd just like us to sit and talk, just me and you, no one else, no music booming, nothing...just us. Will you come?"

I narrowed my eyes. I couldn't believe he was here, on my doorstep on a Sunday morning inviting me out for breakfast. Who does that? And there was that familiar question that was buzzing round my head, the one that I had no answer for but that always made my heart sink. Why?

"You know, you could have just called or texted me on my posh new phone, asked me to meet you there."

He grinned at that. "True, but my theory was if I caught you here while you were still sleepy, you might have your guard down enough to say yes. If I had texted you, you would have laid there agonising over what to do and eventually come up with some lame excuse why you couldn't come."

"What makes you think I would even want to come with you?"

He flinched at that and I felt immediately bad, there was no need for that. He was trying, bless him. Just what he was trying to do I had no idea, but he was making a monumental effort to do...something. Something I couldn't say because I didn't dare believe it. And he had got me the phone and here I was trying to say I might not even want to have breakfast with him? Even though the thought of spending any time with him made my heart soar to heights I had never known existed?

He seemed to collect himself and nodded with total confidence. "You do want to. You probably missed me all of five seconds after I let go of you last night. It's okay that you're not ready to admit how you feel yet. Doesn't make it any less true."

I scowled at him, but I was having trouble keeping the corners of my mouth from curling up in a smile. "You're an arrogant thing, aren't you?"

"I'm confident," he said with a grin, "there's a difference."

"Why me?" I blurted out, the words out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

He frowned and then sighed. "I'll tell you why...over breakfast. So...?"

I let out a resigned sigh, and nodded. "I just need to get dressed."

And with that I turned and ran back up the stairs, diving into my bedroom and rummaging around for some clean clothes. I had never been one to care much about what I was wearing before, but all of a sudden I found myself agonising over my choices.

Urgh. When did I become this woman? What was he doing to me?

Micah I'll be honest. Turning up on her doorstep first thing in the morning was a risk I was willing to take because I had hoped to catch her unawares and okay, I admit it, not yet dressed. Don't get me wrong, I didn't expect her to answer the door in her underwear, I'm not that perverted, but I had this image in my head of her wearing just a t-s.h.i.+rt that stopped midway on her milky white thighs. I had envisioned those legs of hers in my mind's eye a million times, because I had never actually seen them. Jewls was not a girl who ever wore a skirt. h.e.l.l, she never even wore shorts, no matter how nice the weather was.

A Cookie Monster onesie was not part of the fantasy I had created in my head, but it did prove one thing to me. I was utterly smitten and it didn't matter one bit what the h.e.l.l she was wearing. All I could think about was peeling her out of said clothes. If, that was, I could ever persuade her to be my girlfriend. I had already decided nothing was going to happen between us until she agreed to that. Jewls would never be purely a s.e.xual encounter for me.

Actually that onesie was, in its own unique way, pretty d.a.m.n s.e.xy. It was quite tight, and showed off her curves more than anything else I had ever seen her wearing. It showed off perfectly her wide hips, little waist and more than ample chest. Her hair was messed up and she looked so d.a.m.n naturally beautiful. So cute.

I stood on the step awkwardly for a minute or two, aware that she hadn't invited me up while she got ready. Anyone else might have considered that a little rude but I knew why. Because I knew I was messing with her head, scrambling it. She was having the same effect on me, taking over all my thoughts but I guess I was just better at hiding it than she was.

I paced a couple of times, and then just thought...f.u.c.k it.

I climbed the steps quietly and went through the door, finding myself in the spa.r.s.est living room I had ever seen. Literally all she had was a sofa, a TV and a coffee table. I felt my heart sink, couldn't help it. She really didn't have a thing to call her own.

I found myself wondering under what circ.u.mstances she had moved here, and just what sort of situation she was in now. I remembered her comment about not getting paid yet being the reason why she didn't have a phone and wondered what exactly she was living on. Was she eating enough, did she have enough for basics like electric, and gas.

I didn't know how long she would be getting dressed and I glanced to my left into the little kitchen and after a moment's hesitation, opened her fridge. The contents made my heart sink again. Half a pint of milk, an out of date egg and some b.u.t.ter. I hesitated some more and opened the cupboard above her sink. Same story a tin of tomato soup and about four slices of bread.

"What're you doing?"

I slammed the cupboard shut at the sound of her voice, guilt sweeping over me. "I was just looking for a gla.s.s, needed some water, hope that's okay?"

She eyed me suspiciously and then nodded. "Course it is, next cupboard along."

I looked her up and down and smiled. She was wearing smart jeans and a pretty silver vest top, and she was wrestling her unruly hair into a high pony tail.

"You look lovely." I said, making a point of getting a gla.s.s and the drink of water I never wanted in the first place. I didn't miss her eye roll. She either thought I was trying to be smooth or she just didn't believe me.

"Thanks..." she muttered unconvincingly.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded, and smiled sweetly. "Yeah, I guess so."

I offered her my hand and she took it without hesitation always a good sign I thought and we headed out into the early morning suns.h.i.+ne.

Chapter Six.

Jewls I sat at the table watching him carefully as he ordered our breakfasts, wondering what we were doing here. More to the point, what I was doing here.

It dawned on me that he hadn't even asked me what I wanted, so I presumed I was being treated to a coffee and bacon sandwich. I tried to ignore the pang of worry that came from realising he was ordering for me without asking I knew I was reading too much into it.

He walked back over to me, smiling, sliding his wallet into his back pocket. Actually, walking doesn't do justice to what Micah does. He saunters everywhere he goes, walking with large confident steps. With swagger. His jeans are perfect on him, just the right amount of tight in all the right places. They hug his b.u.m like a dream, and pull a little tight across the front. There's no doubting he's well endowed, it's pretty obvious. I had found my thoughts wandering many a time to what lay beneath that denim and those tight white boxers I caught a glimpse of whenever he bent down.

This was a man who, even on a causal Sunday morning, took pride in his appearance and his clothes were always immaculate, as was his hair and his perfectly shaped beard. Everything he wore looked expensive and it was becoming more and more obvious that he wasn't short of money.

I felt a twinge of shame at realising he had seen inside my flat, and no doubt noticed that I was living like some sort of refugee. I had no stuff because I had been forced to leave it all behind, and replacing it just didn't seem important enough. I was just content to have a roof over my head that I had provided for myself. It was just somewhere to lay my head after all.

Oh my G.o.d, he feels sorry for you! That's what this is!

I tried to shove that thought away as he reached the table and sat down opposite me. He took both my hands in his, rubbing them with his thumbs. d.a.m.n that felt good.

"How're you doing, Jewls?"

"I'm okay..." I managed to say, my voice irritatingly small.

"And you're enjoying your job, right?"

"Yeah, course."

He seemed to hesitate. "How long have you lived up here?"

"A month..." I said, wondering why he would ask that.

He nodded slowly. "Settled in okay?"

"Getting there..." I nodded to my phone on the table. "I'm seriously gonna pay you back for that, you know."

He narrowed his eyes, smiling slightly. "We'll see."

"I mean it." I said, not appreciating his dismissive tone.

"Jewls, I can afford it."

"That's not the point." I said quickly. "So you're working later?" I added quickly, deflecting the conversation. His answering smile showed it wasn't lost on him.

"Yeah. Twelve until closing."

"Must be exhausting having two jobs."

He nodded. "It can be, but I enjoy them both."

"Where is it you work?"

He took a sip of his coffee. "Carousel."

I had taken a sip of my own coffee and almost spat the lot out when he said that. "That posh place on the seafront?"

He smiled broadly. "That's the one. You pa.s.s it every time you walk home, huh?"

"Yeah. It's a spectacular place."

He grinned and there was another expression on his face, one I couldn't quite work out pride? "It is. It's the best restaurant in the area, with the longest waiting list. Very in demand."

"I bet they charge a fortune for tiny portions." I said with a smile.

"You'd be surprised," he said, "They have a different angle to the other restaurants. Real food, real portions...not cheap, but worth the money. One day I'll take you there for dinner."

I scoffed, instantly regretting my dismissal of what was obviously a genuine offer. G.o.d, what was wrong with me? I seemed to have no filter and was aware that half the time I was with him it was making me come across as rude. "If you could get past the waiting list."

He waved a hand in the air dismissively. "I could get a table there tonight if I wanted one. I'm...very close to the owner."

What did that mean? "Shame you're working tonight then." I said.

"Crying shame," he said with a nod, "but soon. Me and you, dinner. What do you say?"

I opened my mouth to respond with G.o.d knew what, and mercifully the waitress Carol, or Kath, I could never remember her name appeared at our side with two plates.

"Two cooked breakfasts, everything on, Mr Machvaya. Can't keep you away from the place, can we?" she said with a grin.

"With food like this, is it any wonder?" he said with one of his I can melt knickers with one look smiles.