The silence lasts as long as the Great Wall of China.

His green eyes, now seem to carry a tinge of blue, but there's no surprise in them.

"Ms. Jones I presume?"

And suddenly, everything clicks into place.

He's Mr. Oz?!

Big beanie is Mr. Oz?!

I stare at him in disbelief.

Then, I finally find my voice. "Y-You're Mr. Oz?"

"Yes. And you really are Ms. Jones." It sounds more like he's thinking to himself.

I swallow hard but steady my voice. "Well, yes. How many Ms. Jones could there be?"

"It's quite a common surname actually." He mumbles and palms his nape.

I shake my head to get rid of the webs of bewilderment entangled in my mind. "Come on in and take a seat."

He walks in and I shut the door behind him. He elegantly lowers into the seat opposite mine and I mimic his movements, all the while telling my raging heart to calm the hell down.

I can't believe this.

How could I not have recognized his voice?!

Maybe it's because you were too caught up in his Godly looks. A mischievous voice mocks me.

"I had my suspicions that you were the same Ms. Jones." He voices with a slight smile.

"Well why didn't you just ask?" A hint of accusation carries in my tone.

"I didn't want to seem rude."

Fair point. It would have been weird if he asked out of the blue.

"So, Ms. Jones. You're selling off your business. Why? From the documents you've given me during the past few months, I can see that your business is doing quite well. Are you the sole owner? How old are you actually? When did you start-"

"I didn't know this was going to be an inquisition. Do you also want to know what my favourite color is?" I raise a brow at him.

He clears his throat and fidgets a little. "Sorry. That was rude of me. I got carried away."

"And what's with the name, Mr. Oz? As in Oz the great and powerful?" I cross my arms with a smirk, which I noticed is becoming one of my constant expressions around him.

"They're my initials." He tugs at his collar of his grey polo shirt nervously.

To think that I even dressed up for this meeting when he's wearing casual clothes.

Arghh... my precious sneakers.

"Well, if we're to do this, actual names would be the better option, right?"

His blue-green eyes flick to mine and I hold his gaze to gauge what's going on in his mind.

I suddenly recall telling him I didn't need or want to know his name last night.

Joke's on me huh?

"Call me Owen."

I relax into my chair when he doesn't call me out on it. Clasping my hands in front of me like I'm in a corporate-level meeting, I say to him, "I'd prefer to stick to the formalities."

He sighs softly and blinks. "Then let's go with Mr. Oz for now." He extends a hand to me for a handshake.

I'm confused why he's so reluctant to tell me his last name, but I still take his hand, relishing the feeling of his fingers curled around mine in a firm yet gentle grip. 

My treacherous heart is ramming against my ribcage at the simple and platonic touch of his until I almost miss his question. I mentally scold myself for being such a girl.

"What happened to your hand?" He's turned it over so the back of my hand is facing upwards.

I look down and remember that my right hand is bandaged. For a moment I even forgot to feel pain.

"Oh, nothing." My voice sounds breathy and I wish I could just smack myself right now. But he doesn't smirk or make a crude joke like many men with his looks would do.

Well, that's a first.

His non-stereotypical demeanor only makes him more appealing to me.

"Doesn't look like nothing. Was it because of the incident last night? The man hurt you?" He frowns slightly in concern.

More like I hurt him, I snigger in my heart.

"Do you need me to look at it for you?" He starts to lift his other hand but I quickly snatch my hand away.

"I appreciate your concern Mr. Oz, but I'm not a damsel in distress and you don't need to be a knight in shining armor."

His eyes shine with something like awe and I put on my most confident smile. Our gazes lock for a while and his eyes search mine. For what, I have no idea. 

I suddenly have the crazy urge to ask about his son, but I snuff it out like a candle and break eye contact.

"Let's get down to business, Mr. Oz."

He obligingly nods his head and lets me lead. This is going to be one hell of a meeting.

Be still, my traitorous heart.

************

We're done after about an hour.

"I hope everything can be settled by next month." I stand up and he follows suit.

"I'll have my people prepare the agreement, you don't have to worry about that."

His people huh? Sounds like rich people vocab.

"Sure. Then let's schedule the agreement signing as soon as it's ready."

"I'll let you know, Ms. Jones."

I sweep my hair behind my shoulder because it's getting a bit stuffy in here even with the air-con turned on. 

When his eyes follow my gesture and land on my collarbones, I feel my pulse skitter out of control.

I suck in a sharp breath which prompts his gaze to shoot up to my eyes, and his face turns rosy when he realizes I caught him staring.

"It's hot in here huh?" I fan myself with my uninjured hand and avoid his eyes.

"Yes. Very hot." His voice comes out a little husky and our eyes collide just to spring away again.

Get yourself under control, Cyra! He's not talking about you!

"I'll show you around the diner, Mr. Oz."

"Okay.. yeah. Yeah, that'd be great."

I wonder if he's always so nervous, but who am I to judge? 

I'm nervous too, but it's only around him.

Why!? He's not Donald Trump!

Hell, I think I'd be less nervous around the U.S. president.

The instant we come out front, disarrayed loud noises bombard me, leaving me stunned.

Shit. Did people find out I'm selling the diner!?

That's the first thought that streaks through my head.

The diner is filled to the brim and everyone is looking at me right now, but they're not criticizing me. 

They're cheering and applauding like I won the Nobel prize by doing absolutely nothing.

My confusion probably shows on my face because Harold, one of our usuals and the town's notorious gossiper, comes over and slaps me on the back.

I'm pretty much treated like a male here because I used to be a tomboy. Only after I hit puberty I started looking more girly, but it's hard to change the first impression others have of you especially when they watched you grow up.

"We saw you kicking ass, Jones! It's all over the internet! Didn't you see?"

Oh hell no.

"No. And why is the whole town here, Harold?" I grip my forehead at the chaos before me.

"To watch you kickass together of course! Just like the good ol' times!"

Harold must've gathered them here. When I used to participate in tournaments, they would gather and watch it at the diner. Good ol' times indeed.

"Jones, you were like a tornado!"

"Yeah, he didn't stand a chance!"

"I didn't expect you to still fight so well!"

"Damn, son! Only three kicks!"

Words of praises overlap as they gather around to watch and discuss among themselves. 

I pinch my nose bridge and sigh softly, wondering how there was even a video of it and who could have leaked it.

"Here, here! Take a look for yourself!" Harold holds out his phone which is playing a video.

I feel a warm presence close behind me and I turn my head a fraction to see that Owen is peeking over my shoulder to watch the video. 

My neck tingles and chill bumps rise all over my body from his proximity. I direct my eyes forward and try to ignore his warmth spearing right into me right down to my bones.

I focus on the video and sure enough, it's me.

I take a closer look and realize that the Walker girl must have filmed it!

It's definitely from her vantage point. The video is a little bit shaky, but it's relatively clear. It was dark but the little amount of light just so happened to bounce off my red hair which flew around like Medusa's head of snakes while I was launching those kicks at the assailant.

I look like a maniac all in all.

My family is quite well known because of our diner, so naturally, everyone knows me too. Most of our older customers have seen me grow into a skilled fighter over the years.

Hell, their kids were probably either saved by me, or beaten up by me during our teenage years.

This town is where everyone knows what everyone else did last summer...

...autumn, winter and spring.

The video ends and a hand shoots out from behind to replay it. I stand as still as a statue, holding my breath subconsciously.

Harold chuckles and eyes Owen behind me. "Amazing eh? That's our bo- girl, Jones for you! The star fighter of our town! Used to represent our-"

I butt in with a forced laugh, gently pushing the phone away and distancing myself from Owen. 

Someone calls out to Harold and he's out of sight within a second, leaving Owen and I alone.

"So you weren't kidding when you said you fought him." His voice comes out smooth and low, rumbling from his chest as he pierces me with his eyes.

I pucker my lips innocently and bat my eyelashes. "It was just the element of surprise and my pepper spray."

He narrows his eyes and flattens his lips. "You're skilled. But reckless." His eyes glitter with a cross between respect and disapproval.

"Oh?" I display the most sarcastic eyebrow arch I can summon and look him straight in the eye. "But you have to admit, it was one hell of a performance, right?" I suck on the inside of my cheeks to keep from breaking out into a wicked grin.

"Hellishly insane would be a better description. Pepper sprays are supposed to be sprayed, not thrown."

One corner of my lip lifts upwards at his dry tone. "What can I say, Mr. Oz? We have to be creative in life."

His eye twitches and he seems to be struggling with a comeback, making me purse my lips to keep from laughing.

He frowns. "You should've just sprayed it at him. What if you missed-"

I scoff with some extra sass. "I never miss."

A look of pure incredulity stretches across his handsome features and I'm finally unable to suppress my laughter. It's drowned out by the loud chatter going on in diner so no heads spin around to look at me funny.

Just then, a flash of sandy blonde hair streaks across the diner to attach itself onto my leg. My eyes move downwards in surprise.

"Hi." The little beanie smiles shyly at me.

"Little beanieeeeee! How are you? Hmm? Did you sleep well last night? Did you miss me like how I missed you?"

I crouch down so that we're at eye level and shower him with a ton of baby talking which I realize I'm doing only after a few beats.

He smiles and nods vigorously. "Little beanie missed you very very much!"

I rub his head and don't stop the bright smile appearing on my own face. I look up at Owen who is peering down at us with an expression I can't decipher.

"Daddy! You were coming to see..." He pauses and looks at me questioningly.

I understand him right away. "You can call me aunt Cee, little beanie."

"I'm Noah, aunt Cee!" He grins widely and two dimples appear on his cheeks.

Oh my poor heart!

A quick inhale comes from above us and I glance up just in time to see Owen's shocked expression before it vanishes. 

Noah turns back to his father with accusatory eyes. "Daddy! You were coming to see aunt Cee but you didn't tell me."

Owen chuckles and I can see a hint of his own set of dimples. He bends down to join us, a loving smile  painted across his face when he speaks to Noah. "You wanted to see aunt Cee?"

Noah nods. "Mhm!"

"You like aunt Cee?"

"Mhm!!!" He nods even more enthusiastically to prove his point and my heart warms.

Owen picks his son up with a full grin and I swoon from those dimples peeking at me.

Ohhhh, make love to me.

WHAT. THE. HECK!?!?

Cyra Jones, wash that dirty mind of yours three times over and pour bleach on it too while you're at it!!!

I feel myself blushing furiously and when Owen speaks, I literally jump.

"Are you okay, Ms. Jones?"

"Oh... uhh... Yeah! Why wouldn't I be okay?!" I let out an obnoxiously fake laugh.

Clearing my throat, I look around the diner which is still bustling with excitement, hoping Owen doesn't see through me. 

Suddenly, something occurs to me and I snap my head back to the pair. "Did you leave Noah out here alone?!"

Owen and Noah reel back in alarm at my outburst.

"You left Noah alone!? You could've brought him into my office! What if something happened ag-"

"Ms. Jones, my PA was watching over him. You don't have to worry. I've learnt my lesson."

"Mhm. Aunt Cee, don't be mad. Little beanie was okay."

My body loosens up with their answers. "Oh. Sorry. I overreacted." I respond lamely, berating myself for making ridiculous assumptions and getting riled up over somebody else's affairs.

But it's not just anybody, it's your little beanie. A tiny voice whispers in a corner of my brain.

"Can your PA be trusted though? I mean-"

"Oh I fired the previous one and got a new one." Owen points a finger at a table by the window, where a young man in a trimmed suit is sitting. He nods politely when he catches his boss' eyes.

My mouth hangs open in disbelief. 

How did he even do that in such a short amount of time?

"How did you- It's been like what... one night? How did you..."

"I have my ways." There is that dimpled grin again.

Please have mercy.

"By the way, why did you bring forward our meeting to today?" I ask out of curiosity.

"I forgot I have a lunch date tomorrow. You must be really tired now, considering what happened last night. And also, your hand..."

So he has a lunch date tomorrow.

Why do I even care?!

He's a single father, he can date whoever he likes!

"What's wrong with aunt Cee's hand? Is it hurt? But aunt Cee said she was fine." Noah worriedly asks with glimmering eyes.

"Oh nothing for you to worry about little beanie. Your father is talking gibberish." I boop Noah's nose and he giggles adorably.

"I can't thank you enough for saving my son. Although I disagree with your methods," he gives me a pointed look and I roll my eyes teasingly, "but if it weren't for you, I can't imagine what would've happen to my son." He dips his head to look at Noah on his arm.

I look at the little beanie as well, surprised to see that his eyes are still fixed on me. He stretches out a fair hand to grab my sleeve, and his face brightens into a wide smile when he says, 

"Aunt Cee is my new favourite person!"

This father and son duo is really giving me a hard time.

"Why, what a coincidence! Aunt Cee's favourite person is little beanie too!" I baby talk all the way and his bubbly giggles are like a gift to me.

When a waiter walks past with our signature chocolate smoothie, I notice Noah staring intently at it, his eyes following it until it reaches its customer.

"You want that?"

He nods furiously so I call out the order to Amara and tell her it's on me.

"What?! No, I should be the one treating you, not the other way around! And Noah, didn't you have one already?" He uses a stern tone on his son.

"Who says I'm treating you? My kind gesture is only extended to the little beanie because he's my favourite person. And what's wrong with have two smoothies, right little beanie?"

Owen remains silent, giving his son a sidelong glance which conveys some hidden message.

He finally heaves a sigh and takes in my injured hand hanging loosely by my side. "At least let me do something for you. I feel like I owe you. May I?" He gestures at my hand.

"No!" I hide my hand behind my back.

Well that came off a little too harsh.

His cheeks redden at my plain rejection and a little guilt sets in my heart. 

I'm actually afraid of what his touch might do, and that I might crave it even more once I get a taste of it.

It's crazy how much I'm affected by him. And we only just met!

"I mean... my hand is fine. Really. Just a little sore. And you don't need to feel indebted to me or anything. I saved little beanie because I wanted to."

"Daddy, you're terrible at talking to women." 

Noah's blunt statement almost sends me into a fit of laughter, but I'm too caught up in my turbulent thoughts and feelings towards the duo before me.

I feel like I'm already in too deep.

"Well, enjoy your smoothie little beanie! I'll get back to work." I aim the last part at Owen and sidestep him to fast walk away, practically careening into the safety of my office.

Forget showing him around the diner, it's not even that big!

I pace around the limited space to slow my heartbeat. When I've just sunk into my chair, the door swings wide open.

"Hey hoe, guess who's back?"

My head snaps up at the sound of the familiar voice and all thoughts of Owen and Noah fly out of my mind, if only for a split second, when a curvy brunette struts in.

"Oh my God! RAYLAAAAA!!!!!" My face almost splits from the grin on my face.

"YAS GIRLLLL!!!!!!"

The roof is in danger of collapsing from the magnitude of our excited screams as we clash into a hug and go on a jumping spree.

I haven't seen my best friend in almost two years and I missed her so much. Hence the series of squeals and aggressive hugging sesh.

With all the pressure I'm facing right now, I'm really happy that she's back. I hold her at arm's length to scan her tanned face and dark brown eyes as I choke with emotions. 

"That happy to see me, Cee?" She teases me.

"I'm just glad to have my arm rest back."

We both laugh with happy tears at the edge of our eyes.

She's a head shorter than me so I always used her shoulder as my arm rest.

"I missed you so much, Cee!!!"

"Me too, Rayyyy. But aren't you supposed to be in London? Didn't you say you weren't coming back this year too?"

"I'll explain later. Now, gimme a kiss!" She closes her eyes and puckers her lips like so many other times.

I giggle and kiss her smack on the lips. 

We're not gay, but we've been best friends ever since we could crawl and she's like my sister, even more than my own blood related sisters. And we always greet each other like that, to everyone's chagrin, but not like we care.

Suddenly, the smile on my face freezes. Rayla's smile drops too and she furrows her brows at my rigidness, following my gaze to the office door which is wide open, courtesy of hers truly.

Owen is standing at the door with Noah on one arm. 

The former is wearing a shocked expression, while the latter is blinking curiously at us.

It hits me then what this scene might have looked like to Owen.

Well, I'll be damned.