Page 120 of From Hell

When I arrive, he’s just casually sitting behind the wheel, car idle next to the curb. I bang on the glass. “Oi!”

He winds the window down and narrows his eyes at my outfit. From my vantage point, he’s casually dressed, wearing a designer black t-shirt and jeans. He even suits the scruffy beard he’s growing for whatever reason.

“You’re not allowed to stalk me,” I say through a clenched jaw, trying to catch my breath.

“You look.…”

“What? What do I look like?”

“Hot when you’re working out.”

I stare at him, my mouth fixed in a stern line. “Just stop following me.” I kick his wheel for effect.

The dimple in his cheek furrows. Urgh, I hate that dimple. Slowly, he puts the car in gear and turns around. After he drives off, I run back up the hill, again and then collapse into a mess at the top when I reach the girls, wheezing and coughing my guts up.

“You should have got him to drive you up,” Nola quips. If she wasn’t my friend, I would slap her.

We manage to run all the way into town and stop at my old local pub, Flower and Dean, for a bite to eat. I’m feeling much better, less cooped up and pissed off. For the first time in a while, I’m looking forward to eating.

“Didn’t you used to work here?” Sage asks as we take a table near the TV so Nola can watch the football.

“Part-time,” I nod, looking to the bar to see if I can catch a glimpse of who they replaced me with. A young barman with a waistcoat and shirt catches my gaze and walks over.

“Laine, right?” He focuses his crinkly-eyed smile on me.

“Er, yes.”

He holds out his hand. “Miles, we met at the Ten Bells when you were there with Jaxon.”

Miles keeps my hand a little too long but he seems harmless, so I smile back. The upside, we get table service. He takes our food and drinks order and disappears into the back. I don’t think anything of him until he passes me a piece of paper as we are leaving. On it is his phone number.

I’m tempted to bin it, but outside, I see the familiar Aston prowling at the end of the street. “Fuck it, I want to try new things.” I take out my phone and text Miles to the look of delight on Sage’s face and the raised brow on Nola’s.

I might have been too hasty accepting a date with Miles the next night. However, the look on Jaxon’s face when he stalks me to the local cinema is worth it. He’s not close enough for me to actually see his face, but I can imagine it as his Aston pulls up in the parking lot as Miles is escorting me inside.

We stop at the counter to queue for popcorn. I’m half listening to Miles, and half looking for Jaxon, fortunately, Miles likes to talk a lot.

“I love this film. It’s been adapted so many times. Did you know there is a brief scene where Poirot interacts with a photograph of Agatha Christie…”

I tune Miles out and stare at the entrance until my eyes burn. Every tall, vaguely attractive guy looks like Jaxon and has my chest in palpitations.

He’d better not to follow me inside.

“… which one?”

I blink back at Miles. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

He runs a hand through his hair, his cheeks tinged with red. “Butter or salted popcorn?”

“Any? Both?” We get both and then filter in to watch the movie. I hardly notice when Miles goes to the bathroom. Only when a familiar presence strides into the same row and takes Miles’s seat, slow and deliberately, does everything burn—my lungs, my throat, even my eyes as I take him in.

Jaxon leans close, though his eyes remain fixed on the movie. The scent of his cologne, all sharp and citrus, clings to the air, turning me inside out as he whispers, “What did I miss?”

I want to punch him, stab him with my straw. Instead, calming the wild beating of my heart, I glare at him. “You can’t just turn up while I’m on a date,” I mutter.

His jaw clenches. “Are you fucking him?”

That’s it. I round on him, sparks building in my veins. “Are you crazy?