set.
When I remember this, my attraction and draw toward this type of man makes perfect sense. I guess what I’m trying to do with my new dating life is retrain my brain. I’ve done many things with more complexity. When Alex and Steven were together that day on the water…there was no competition. Steven knows exactly how to push my buttons. Good and bad. He’s known me longer. He makes my heart pound like only one other person ever has. Is it because he reminds me of Stone? Or is it real? I’m not quite ready to analyze the latter. Nor is my heart.
2:15 p.m. “Dance with me?”
Smiling, I wonder if he ever works.
The wind whips palm branches into the glass pane of my window, causing a creepy scratching noise. I glance out just in time to see a white, late model sedan pull away from the curb and vanish from view. I squint my eyes as I try to remember why that particular car seems familiar. My daddy always told me to be aware of my surroundings. I try. I do. But I’m usually too wrapped up in my own head or working to really give my full attention to any one thing...especially if it’s not a case.
When I was in college, I was the girl who never noticed attention—from girls and boys alike. Number one, it was usually unwanted leering by frat guys with beer breath. Number two, most of my life is spent making decisions and introverted observations about the world around me and how those observations affect me. I saw a therapist after Stone died. It was so sudden, and the change so great, that I needed help overcoming such an event. She told me that number two is why I’m successful, so I don’t dwell on it so much anymore. It’s not conceit if I’m using the information gathered to make myself a better person. Right now, I’m making myself a sleuthing type of person because I know that white car was parked close to me at the grocery store, and then again behind me at a red light a few days ago. There aren’t too many sedans that old and beat up on the road these days. What to do with this information?
Keep it to myself. If I told Steven, he’d live at my house until he was sure the white car creeper wasn’t a threat to my well-being. That’s the very last thing my twisted mind needs right now. There isn’t such a thing as being too paranoid in Virginia Beach. Spies are everywhere. I rub my arms when goose bumps prick my skin. I throw on the gray cashmere sweater and eat lunch. On the notepad next to Steven’s insane notes I write, BOLO: Old white car. Nissan? Four doors.
Daddy didn’t raise a fool. Nor did he raise a helpless damsel. I know one thing that I can call Steven for. It won’t threaten my waning self-control either. I find his name, turn on my blue tooth, and hit “call”. He picks up on the first ring.
“Hey. I was starting to think you were avoiding me,” he says. I hear the smile through the phone. “I’m just finishing up a work out. I had my phone in the ring in case you decided to grace me with your voice.”
I cross my ankles under my desk. “Steven. How was work?”
His phone fumbles. He must be getting dressed. He’s almost naked. And sweaty. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “It was good—lots of meetings. I have a trip next week. I was hoping I could see you before then,” he replies, a little out of breath. “Is your generator working?” It’s like he’s a mind reader.
“I called Cody and asked if he could swing by and test it.”
“He’s already left for the trip. I’ll come by,” he responds as quick as lightning. Which is sort of odd timing because a rumble of thunder shakes the house. “See? The bad weather is on its way tonight.”
I sigh. “No, no. I’ll call Maverick. Maybe he’ll bring the kids by. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them anyways. Worst case scenario, I’ll figure it out myself. It can’t be that hard. Stone figured it out and we both know how much he liked machines that weren’t guns or car engines.” Steven laughs.
“You’re right. Though I am concerned that you just placed me after worst case scenario. What’s up? Be Morganna honest