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Several deep breaths and I throw my car in park, throw open the door and step out to see a pretty blond woman running up to me.
She’s probably my age, close by a few years, at least, her eyes panicked and her mouth falling open on a quick apology.
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?
I blink at her before turning to survey the damage to my car. Thankfully, there’s nothing more than a small dent.
“I’m fine,” I finally answer, “but I don’t have time to call the cops for an accident report.”
Her eyes widen.
“Actually, that’s perfect. I mean, not perfect. It’s just that I’m in a rush. Can we exchange information and leave it at that?”
I really should wait for the police, but she seems trustworthy. She also appears scared, her shoulders tense and eyes scanning the distance before they move back to me.
Not that it means anything, but she’s a beautiful girl with big, blue eyes. She’s dressed really well and has curves for days. I glance up at her car and notice it’s a newer model Mercedes. She doesn’t seem the type to screw me over.
“Yeah, that will work, I guess.”
“Oh! Thank you. Seriously, you’re saving my life. You have no idea. Let me go write it down for you.”
She runs back to her car while I go back to mine to write out my name and insurance info. I’m just finishing up when she steps up to my open door and hands me a white sheet of paper.
“That’s everything you’ll need. Again, I’m so sorry.”
Thankfully, the damage isn’t bad.
“It happens,” I say, handing her my information.
“You’re a life saver,” she says again before running back to her car and taking off on a squeal of tires around me.
Obviously, she really was in a hurry, I think as I glance down at her name. My brows tug together, something familiar about it.
Everly Clayborn.
Before I can remember where I’ve heard the name, a horn honks behind me, urging me to move. I wave a hand, shut my door and take the turn.
I’m at the restaurant five minutes later, which only makes me fifteen minutes late.
Running up to the hostess stand, I quickly rattle off Ivy’s name, and I’m directed to a private room in back.
Laughter rolls over my lips. She really did get us a private space.
How she afforded it while cut off from her dad’s accounts is a mystery. Knowing her, she probably stole Gabe’s credit card.
Soft music filters out when I open the door, my eyes immediately locking on a tall man with dark hair and amber eyes, a person who neither belongs in this setting, nor in my life.
Ezra is only a few steps from me, as if he’d been heading to leave, his suit jacket clutched in one hand, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up his forearms.
Beyond him, a string quartet plays while candles flicker, red roses adorning white tablecloths. Waiters stand in the distance, ready and waiting to serve the meal.
It takes me a moment to push past my shock, to turn my gaze back to Ezra where he stands nervous and flustered, his eyes scanning the room much like mine.
“What is this?”
He’s beautiful in a suit, but even the pressed shirt and dark grey slacks are helpless to disguise the raw strength of his body, or the feral spirit of a man who is more comfortable fighting than talking.
Ezra looks back at the room, tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs.