"He's... this is probably me just being paranoid."
"Holly..."
"He pulled into the parking lot about forty-five minutes ago. And he's sitting there and he's... he keeps holding up his phone. I'm probably just being paranoid, but I feel like he might be taking pictures of me. I know that sounds stupid. Like I said, I think I'm just paranoid."
"Are you alone?"
"What?"
"Are you alone?"
"No, Don is here."
"Yeah, well, Don is useless. Are there any customers?"
"One table left. They are wrapping it up."
"Okay. I'm on my way."
"What? No. I'm sorry I called. I know you're in church. I'm okay."
"I'm on my way," I repeated, giving Cary a nod before moving out the back door. "If that table leaves, and this guy makes his way in finally, go and lock yourself in the bathroom."
"Malcolm..."
"Holly, if he comes in, lock yourself in the bathroom."
"Okay."
"I'm ten minutes away, okay?"
"I'm sure it's nothing."
"Trust your gut, honey. If it feels wrong, it probably is."
"Okay," she agreed, letting out a shaky breath.
"You want to stay on the phone until I get there?"
"I have to get back to my table."
"Okay," I agreed, hopping on my bike.
"Hey, Malcolm?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you," she said, before hanging up.
It was as I tucked my phone away and made my way out of the clubhouse that I had a completely irrational thought.
She didn't have to thank me. I would do anything that woman needed me to do.
Chapter Six
Holly
It was silly.
I was sure it was silly.
I was just frazzled and in pain and looking at everyone sideways because there was no way of knowing who had attacked me, so I was making villains out of everyday people.
It would pass.
I was sure that once the pain was gone, I would be able to calm down more. But when every move I made caused some sort of shooting or throbbing pain, it was difficult to think the best of anyone.
Especially when I was pretty sure the guy in the red truck was taking pictures.
But it was probably not of me.
How vain was it to think he might have been?
Maybe Luis had someone out to check out the property to have some work done. Hell, maybe he was going to put up actual, functioning cameras.
Alright, that was a little hard to believe. Any situation that hinged on my boss being a decent human being was pretty unlikely.
But there were reasons he could have been there taking pictures that had absolutely nothing to do with me.
Then I'd gone ahead and been even more over-reactive by calling Malcolm. Who'd already done too much for me. Who wasn't responsible for my protection. Who I had no business calling for help.
What was wrong with me?
"Taking a smoke break," Don declared since no new tables had come in.
Dread bubbled up in my stomach as I watched him walk out the door, knowing my table was close to getting up and leaving too.
Taking a deep breath, I went ahead and moved closer to the restrooms. Just in case. Even though I was trying to remind myself how ridiculous I was being.
There were so many other things I could be worrying about that had nothing to do with halfway suspicious guys in the parking lot.
Like Shep's mood taking a steep downturn ever since my attack. Not at me. Not lashing out or anything. But I was starting to really worry that depression was setting in because he couldn't be there for me the way I'd been there for him.
And because of that, I'd noticed he was slacking with his at-home physical therapy. If he didn't keep up with that, he was never going to be able to regain his strength and flexibility. Which was a terrifying thought. Because he would need both those things if he was ever going to work again.
But I also knew him enough to know that bringing up the possible depression, and suggesting he might want to talk about it to someone was only going to set him off.
It was why I needed to try to act like I was okay, that every inch of me wasn't sore, that I wasn't worried sick about not only my job security, but also my safety while I was there.
If I thought I was exhausted before the attack, this was a whole new kind of tiredness. I wasn't just body-tired. I was heart-tired. And soul-tired.
But it would pass.
I would heal.
Then everything would feel more manageable.
And Shep would stop looking so sad.
It would all shake out.
"Oh, you guys are heading out?" I asked, wincing at the desperation in my voice as my table of late teens guys and girls moved to stand.
"Our professors kinda frown on us sleeping through all our morning classes," one of the guys said, shooting me a smile as they walked past.
Anxiety made my heartbeat skip into overdrive as the door bell jingled on their way out.
But even as I was debating, you know, abandoning my post to go and hide in the bathroom for a moment, I could hear the rumble of a bike coming down the street.
It wasn't a sound a normal person would associate with relief. I mean, bikers didn't exactly have the best reputation.
But I knew who was on that bike.
And he was probably the kindest soul I'd met since moving to the area. All wrapped up in a big, scary—and stupidly attractive—package.
I'd maybe been developing a school-girl type of crush on the man. Since he'd started showing up, sure, but gaining in momentum since the night he'd sat with me in the hospital.
It was ridiculous for my mind even to go there, of course. Since I had no time for dating even if he somehow did want to go out with me. But I found it increasingly more difficult to stop thoughts of him from creeping into my head during the day, and from invading my dreams at night.
Those dreams, yeah, they had a mind of their own. And they focused a lot on those giant hands of his moving over my skin. And what that beard of his might feel like brushing my breasts, my belly, my inner thighs.
Even just remembering the dreams made me feel suddenly flushed.
I was so distracted by my thoughts that I missed the fact that Malcolm had already pulled in, parked, and was making his way toward the truck.
Suddenly unsure, I made my way toward the door, moving outside, wanting to make sure things didn't get out of hand if I was just overreacting.
The guy in the truck must not have seen Malcolm moving around the truck bed, or approaching his side of the vehicle. Because the whole car jerked as the man jumped when Malcolm reached in the window, grabbing the phone out of his hands, and taking a step back as he looked down at it.
Recovering himself, the man in the car yelled something I was too far away to make out, but he also started to open his door. Which Malcolm slammed back shut with one hand as he kept scrolling with his other.
My stomach coiled as I realized I must have been right after all, that it must have been me in the pictures on the phone because Malcolm suddenly turned the phone, thrusting it out toward the man, saying something to him. I couldn't make it out, but it seemed to be said in some sort of growling voice.