I mouth an O, long before noise escapes me.
Strong fingers wrap tightly around my hand. Marcus closes his eyes and peace fills his expression before he sighs.
“Well?” I murmur.
“Turns out I can’t predict the future.” His eyes are wide, gauging my reaction. Contact is lost between us when my hand is gently placed on the table. “So, this was fun.” He suddenly stands. “I have work to do and so do you. Are you ready?” His hand presents itself, waiting for mine to clasp it.
I’m not. “I’m going to wait a bit.”
He says nothing. He turns. He walks away.
There’s something about this man in the suit that causes wicked images to appear in my mind, ones I haven’t had in a long time. Ones that can never become reality.
Why did he hold out his hand like that? Why did he hold my hand at all? I don’t even know him.
…Yet I feel like I do.
SEVEN
No Control
As the lift reaches the ground floor, I find Asher waiting for me.
“Well, how was your first day?”
“Long. So very long.”
She giggles. “Well, tomorrow will go quicker, I’m sure. Hey, I was wondering if you would like to have a drink tonight at Rafferty’s? It’s a few blocks from here, but it’s my favourite hangout spot.”
Drinks. With people. I think not. “Um—” I try to find a way to decline nicely, but she interrupts me.
“Come on, let’s celebrate your first day here.”
The word “no” screams in my head, but my mouth betrays me and agrees. “Okay.”
“Good. How about you meet me in an hour?”
“Sure, that can be done. Hang on, it’s nothing fancy, right? Like I don’t have to dress up. An hour’s not a great deal of time with travel involved.” Am I really going to cancel on Sammy? What am I doing?
“No. But you do need to wear something comfy, yet pretty … also, no thongs. It’s a bit classy,” Asher says with a smile.
“Classy … comfy. Got it. Okay.” Sammy won’t be mad. No, she’ll be glad I’m getting out. It’s what that pain in the rump has been trying to get me to do for what feels like forever now.
“Are you okay?” Asher says, snapping me out of thought.
“I’m great.” But am I?
We stride side by side, each step in time, to the parking lot and say our goodbyes for now. Why in the world I agreed to a public outing with a co-worker has me both baffled and pissed off. But it’s too late to pull out, I guess. And Sammy will be fine. Happy even. Won’t she?
***
Rafferty’s is just as easy to find as Leyton’s was earlier in the day. Another monstrosity of a sign leads the way. What’s with these hideous signs?
Three steps take me into a black-and white-tiled foyer. Another twelve steps lead to a bar on an upper level. A winding deck wraps around the outside of the building, and ocean waves crash onto a beach, a view so pristine it could have been a magazine picture.
Spying my watch, I note the hands read 5:45 p.m. I’m actually early. Shocked. The ocean scents waft freely, and a breeze gently flows across my partly naked back. I probably should have brought a coat to go with my knee-length halter dress. But, of course, I never think about things like that.
After approaching the bar, I order my favourite cocktail—a Mudslide. This place is fancy, not your regular beers and spirits-only type of establishment.
Sipping slowly, I watch the thunderous waves roll in and crash heavily against the shore. I’ve never been here before. I didn’t even know it existed. I like it.
The numbers on the clock I just spied above the bar read 6:01. Asher shouldn’t be too far away. Now who’s late?
I relax into the soft backing of the seat and enjoy the colours merging together in the sky. A pretty sunset. When was the last time I watched the sun go down?
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A text message. I reach into my bag and retrieve my phone. A number is displayed, one I don’t recognise.
0467843211: Hi. I’m so sorry, Abigail. I can’t make it. My brother was involved in a car accident. We’ve been told he’s okay, but I’m going with my parents to the hospital. I know you’ll understand. Ash.
I reply immediately.
Me: That’s horrible, Asher. Of course I understand. I’ll see you tomorrow if you’re coming to work.
I save her number into my phone and place it on the table. How did Asher have my number? The bundle of employee information forms she made me fill in for her after my lunch break today is probably how.
“Yep, that would be how,” I say under my breath, gazing at the ocean once again.
The sense of someone standing behind me causes my body to stiffen. Something briefly touches my back and then I smell it—mint.
“Fancy running into you here,” he says as he breathes into my ear. His cheek is so close, and for a split second I will it to press against mine. Marcus steps in front of me, changing my view. He wears dark-washed jeans, and a white-collared shirt covers his body. A body I find myself wanting to see.
Stop it.
“Are you stalking me, Marcus?”
He throws back his head as he laughs. “Maybe.”
“An Apprehended Violence Order could be in your future. You might have to get one of those solicitors at work to get you out of this bind,” I say, sarcastically.
“Possibly.” He sits across from me.
“That seat’s taken,” I lie.
“What, by an imaginary friend?”
My arms cross. “How do you know that my companion isn’t in the restroom?”
“Because you’ve been here alone—” He glances at his watch “—for nearly twenty minutes.”
Silence.
Who is this guy? Why do I feel like I know him, but that he’s a stranger all at the same time? “So you are stalking me? You know, you’re not doing a very good job at it. I think you’re supposed to disguise the act.”
“Probably.”
What’s with the one-word answers? “It appears you’re solo too?”
“No. I’m here with my wife.” He must get the response he’s after, because he grins. “I’m joking. I was catching up with a friend. You can close your mouth now.”
Unaware it was even open, I bring my jaws together with haste.
“You’re too easy.”
“And you’re an arse.”
“That’s probably true.”
I can’t help but smile. Happiness seems to appear when Marcus is near, but so does confusion soaking knickers and the will for his caress.
A peg-thin woman in a lime green uniformed shirt hands Marcus a beer. “From the lady at the bar.” She points in the direction of a sultry-looking woman.
Her bright red lip-sticked mouth beams at him. Long blonde hair flows over her barely covered breasts. Marcus holds the beer up and smiles.
“Guessing that bimbo is your wife.”
He laughs loudly.
The blonde at the bar doesn’t seem impressed.
“You’re an arse,” I scold.
He gulps a mouthful of beer. “Can you excuse me for a moment?”