when I pull up to the garage. I climb out, grab my cup of coffee and purse, and enter through the storefront. The guy behind the counter glances up but doesn’t say anything. My heels click across the linoleum as I move through to the office and set my purse on the desk, along with the cappuccino I picked up on the way in.
There’s a cute little coffee shop with a drive-thru just a block down the street that I discovered while waiting in traffic this morning. I hope it lives up to the amazing coffee the casino hotel in Vegas used to serve.
I move to the metal door leading to the garage and peer through the small window inset. I don’t see Rusty anywhere and hadn’t noticed his bike, so I sit down and sip my coffee.
It’s been on my mind all night and on the drive in this morning whether or not I should come clean with him about why I really fled Vegas. I don’t know if anyone can track me here, but now that I know the authorities are tracking down video from that night, it makes it all that much more real.
Seeing those scared and worried family members on television last night really got to me. I feel so guilty for not going straight to the police. I also feel like such a coward. I only thought of myself and the threat to me. A better person would have done the right thing and reported what happened; they wouldn’t have run like a scared little rabbit.
I can bullshit with the best of them—and stroke an ego—promising all kinds of things when it comes to schmoozing my high roller clients, but outright lies have never been easy for me. I get nervous, I get anxious, and I almost certainly give tells.
I don’t want to lie to Rusty; he’s a smart guy, and I’m sure he didn’t climb to the rank of president of an MC without being able to read people. I already think he’s suspicious of the reason I gave him for buying that gun. Most likely this relationship is too new for him to call me on it. But it’s there—that doubt. I see it in his eyes.
I’m surprised he’s let it go. Perhaps because I’m just not that important to him. Maybe I’m just a temporary diversion, one he’ll cut loose at the first sign of bullshit or baggage.
If I tell him the truth, is that exactly what he’ll do?
For reasons I don’t want to examine too closely, I don’t want to lose him from my life. Not yet. And maybe if I’m being honest, I’m using him for protection. But the time I spend with him has made me happier than I’ve been in a long time. It’s been forever since I’ve felt the connection I feel with him. All he has to do is walk into the room and the air changes. I feel it. It pulses between us like a living breathing thing. Desire, that’s what it is, a pull so strong it’s palpable. But it’s more than that. I get him and he gets me on some invisible wavelength, some emotional current that sparks between us.
When he stares into my eyes, when he smiles… good God, I can’t look away. It’s like I’m under his spell. What is wrong with me? I’m behaving like a damn teenager.
I fan my suddenly overheated skin with a file folder, pulling my hair off my neck.
Of course he picks that exact moment to stride through the door.
He pauses with his hand on the knob. “The A/C go out?”
I release my hair and drop the file to the desktop like it’s suddenly turned into a snake. “What? No, its fine.” I swivel to the computer and begin tapping away on the keyboard, punching in the password he gave me yesterday.
He moves to stand in front of the desk, staring down at me. “You okay?”
“Sure. Fine. Why?”
“You seem… flustered.”
“Nope. I’m good.”
He drops his head to the side, studying me a moment before dipping his eyes to my beverage. “Island Coffee. Didn’t take you long to find them.”
“It’s pretty good.”
He arcs a brow. “Where’s mine?”
I stare up at him. He looks serious. “Um. I didn’t know how you take yours.”
“Usually Americano, once in a while a double shot espresso, and if I’m feeling relaxed, a café au lait.” He winks.
“I’ll be sure to pick you up one tomorrow.”
“Cool. What are you drinking?”
“Cappuccino.”
He nods. “Okay. Make you