Page 10

10

Ella

O n Friday afternoon, a knock on my door has my spine straightening, physically preparing myself for an encounter with Craig. “Come in.” The door opens, and Maggie pops her head in. I exhale a breath of relief. “Hey, Maggie.”

Maggie smiles as she steps into my office, handing me a pile of papers. “Here are this week’s expense reports and invoices.”

Taking a peek, I thumb through them. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” She sits down in the chair, facing my desk with a wide smile. “It’s been a couple weeks since we went out. Do you want to grab dinner tonight?”

I hesitate. I’m not the best company this week. For the days since dinner with Jack, my thoughts have oscillated between anger at myself and whoever is taunting me and embarrassment at how badly things ended .

She can sense my hesitation. “Come on! It’s Friday!”

I gnaw on my lip for a few moments. Maybe getting out will be good for me. “Okay, let’s do it.”

“Yay! I can’t wait to hear all about your new man!” She claps her hands together.

Immediately, my face falls.

She freezes. “Oh no.”

I grimace and shrug, not waiting to get into it.

“Fuck him. This night out is even more needed now. I’ll see you tonight, and you can tell me all about what an asshole he is.” She harrumphs out of my office.

It would be so much easier if Jack were an asshole. But he’s so far from that it makes my heart hurt.

The restaurant Maggie and I agreed to go to is on a busy corner of East Nashville. Traffic is backed up, and since we’re only a block or so away, I tell the ride-share driver I’ll get out and walk. I thank her before shutting the door and hurrying out of the street.

As I step onto the sidewalk, the summer humidity thickens around me. It’s still light out, and a few other people mingle, looking ready to enjoy the start of the weekend.

I’m nearing the restaurant when my phone vibrates in my purse. Figuring it’s Maggie, I stop to pull it out so I can reply to her before heading into the restaurant.

Unknown: Didn’t anyone ever tell you walking alone was dangerous for stupid bitches ?

My blood pools in my veins. My skin crawls. I want to throw up and run at the same time. Spinning around quickly, I startle some people walking behind me. I swing my head in every direction. They have to be around here somewhere. Not that they would be carrying a sign, but no one looks like they might be my stalker. There are a few couples on the opposite side of the street. Two of them are watching me with concerned expressions. A woman on a bike stands on the corner of the cross street, typing on her phone before she puts it back in her bag and rides away. There’s a man and his dog, maybe fifty feet from me. But he’s probably about seventy, and while I don’t want to be an ageist, the likelihood it’s him seems slim.

I force calming breaths into my lungs. The last thing I need is to hyperventilate and pass out on the sidewalk. My stalker will probably pretend they know me and kidnap my unconscious body, with the bystanders none the wiser.

“Ella!”

I scream as someone grabs my arm, instinctually trying to dislodge from their grasp. Since the other person doesn’t resist, they immediately let go. The loss of tension makes me almost faceplant on the concrete; thankfully, I catch myself before I do any real damage.

“Oh my god, Ella! Are you okay?” Maggie kneels next to me.

“It’s you,” I confirm breathlessly.

“Yeah, it’s just me. I’m so sorry I scared you. Let me help you up. Did you hurt yourself?”

Maggie carefully helps me to my feet, and I assess myself to see if there’s any damage. I scratched my forearm during the fall and have a few rocks embedded in my palm, but I’m unscathed beyond that.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry. That was so embarrassing. ”

“Please don’t be embarrassed. You look upset. Is everything okay?”

I hesitate to tell her the truth. I don’t want to stress her out or scare her. “Yeah, I just thought I saw my ex.”

She appears to accept my explanation, casting only a few concerned glances my way as we walk to the restaurant. With me on shaky legs and a heart rate I’m trying to calm with easy breaths.

Just as I’m about to step into the door, I give the sidewalk one last inspection.

About where the old man with the dog was a few minutes ago, a figure with a larger build, wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled up, is hurrying down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. I tell myself not to read too much into that. It might be August in the south, but maybe he has low iron and is always cold.

But a chill still slides down my spine as I watch him turn the corner.

I push my barstool back, standing to give Maggie a hug. “Thank you so much for inviting me tonight. This is exactly what I needed.”

Maggie hugs me back with equal intensity. “You have no idea how much I needed this too. Let’s do this again soon.”

I release her and reply, “Absolutely.”

She glances around the restaurant. “Are you sure you don’t want me to hang out with you?”

I decided to stay for one more glass of wine before heading home. I reassured Maggie multiple times I would be fine, but I appreciate her concern. Especially considering how our evening started. Being surrounded by all the people in the restaurant gives me a false sense of security, but I’m not ready to go sit alone at home.

“I’m good. I know you have to be up early tomorrow.”

“Okay, well, we’ll talk soon. I’ll text you later this weekend.”

I give her one last smile. “Sounds good.”

I watch Maggie weave through the tables. Once she’s out of sight, I sit back on my barstool. The bartender is chatting with a couple a few seats down from me, but other than that, it’s pretty quiet for a Friday night.

As I roll my shoulders, the tension for the week makes itself known in every muscle.

“Hey there, beautiful. Your friend leave you?”

Holding back a groan, I internally roll my eyes before acknowledging the man to my left. He’s handsome enough. But definitely lacking the masculine edge that a certain someone has. This guy looks like he would invest my money for lackluster returns. His grey suit is slightly wrinkled, his button-up shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned.

“Yep, she had to head home,” I reply, shifting to look back at the bartender, hoping this man takes the hint.

“Ah, well, lucky me to get you alone.”

My body freezes. I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat as fear ripples through me and goosebumps run down my arms.

When I slowly turn to look at him and see his flirty smile and slightly unfocused gaze from one too many beers, I blow out a slow breath and shake my head. Then I’m letting out a little laugh, realizing how I overreacted to his comment.

“Look, I’m not—” My rebuke of his flirting is interrupted by a large hand clapping onto his shoulder. The man and I both turn to find a set of familiar eyes locked on me. They take my breath away.

“Time to go, buddy. She’s not interested.”

The man scoffs. “You don’t know that.”

Jack finally breaks his gaze from mine to glare at the man next to me. The man winces as Jack’s grip tightens. “Move. You’re in my seat.”

Through gritted teeth, the man spits out a terse, “Fine.”

Jack releases his hold and steps behind my barstool, allowing the man to scoot his out. His hand grazes across my back. A chill, not caused by fear this time, moves through me at the sensation. His spicy cologne fills my nostrils, arousing me way more than it should.

Maybe it’s the wine.

Once the man moves farther down the bar, Jack takes his seat. He keeps his eyes straight ahead as the bartender approaches us, handing him a menu. “I don’t need it. I know what I want. Just a burger and fries and whatever IPA you have on draft. And anything the lady wants.”

The bartender looks in my direction to ask, “Another Chardonnay?”

“Sure, thank you.”

With that, the bartender leaves us.

Unsure of how to act after how disastrous our last encounter was, I make a lame attempt at a joke to lighten the ferocity in which he scared off the man. “What if I wanted to talk to that guy?”

Jack leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. I can’t help but notice how his biceps bulge with the action, accentuating his tattoos. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt with his company’s logo on his pec. “Yeah, that look of terror on your face told me you were really into whatever lame-ass pickup line he was laying on you.”

My cheeks heat with embarrassment that he witnessed my misplaced fear. “I, uh, misunderstood him. I thought he said something else.” I sigh as I flop back in my seat. “But I wasn’t interested. So thank you.”

He doesn’t respond.

The bartender returns with our drinks. The contentment I feel at his nearness has my stomach fluttering with disappointment at the thought I might have blown my chance with him. I pick up my wineglass before looking Jack’s way. He’s watching me again as he swallows a sip of beer. My core clenches as he licks a drop of beer from his lip.

To avoid any further awkwardness, if only for me, I feel it’s necessary to address what happened as I fidget in my seat. “Jack, I want to say I’m sorry for the other night.”

Jack leans forward and places his elbows on the bar. He toys with his glass with one hand as the other clenches into a fist. “You don’t need to apologize, Gisella. I’m sorry if I did something to upset you.”

Guilt makes my stomach sink. I grip his bicep, reveling in how solid it feels under my hand. “It wasn’t you at all. I’ve had a lot on my mind, and it got to me the other night.”

He turns his head slightly, staring at where my hand is on his arm. I start to pull my hand away when he shifts, and his other hand lands on top of mine, holding me to him. Our eyes meet. The evident desire there makes my breath catch all over again.

My lips part, and on reflex, my tongue darts out to wet them. His eyes drop to track the action. After a beat, he clears his throat, releases his hand, and sits back .

I do the same, leaning back. To cut the sexual tension to a tolerable amount, I joke, “I’d ask if you tracked the G-Wagon to know I was here, but I didn’t drive.”

His deep chuckle does little to decrease my attraction to him. “No, my walking in here was strictly by chance.”