It made sense, in a way. Dad was Gavin’s boss. He’d want to tread carefully where his boss’s daughter was concerned.
And maybe that was easy because he wasn’t interested in me anyway.
But something about that promise, well intentioned though it might have been, poked a latent sense of rebellion deep inside me.
I nervously tucked my hair behind my ear again, shaking off the little rush of heat trying to surge through my veins. “Well that’s good. Because my pants are fully buttoned right now.”
“Come on, Sky. Just humor me. Let’s hang out tomorrow.”
“Hang out and do what?”
“I’ll come up with something awesome. Don’t worry about that.”
“I worry about everything.”
“You don’t have to worry about this.” He paused and caught his lower lip with his teeth for a second. “Besides, it’s the least you can do. You did hit me with your car.”
I crumpled the paper towel in my fist and tossed it at him. “That’s not fair.”
Laughing, he batted it away. “I’m teasing. How about this. Please hang out with me tomorrow?”
Oh my god. As if anyone could tell that man no when he looked at them like that.
Which was precisely the problem.
Gavin Bailey was trouble.
Irresistible trouble.
“Okay. I’ll hang out with you tomorrow.”
He smiled again. Cute brown eyes, white teeth, dimples. God he was adorable.
So.
Much.
Trouble.
“Awesome. It’ll be the Adventures of Gav and Sky.”
Adventures? That word gave me a ping of anxiety. What if he wanted to do something scary?
But as we made plans to get together the next day, all I could really think about was how much I liked it when he called me Sky.
9
Skylar
A jittery buzz of nervous energy thrummed through me as I sat waiting for Gavin at the Steaming Mug coffee shop. I glanced down at my clothes. Had I worn the right outfit? The September air was chilly, the leaves starting to turn orange, yellow, and red. I’d chosen a pale blue sweater, jeans, and a pair of not practical, but very cute heels.
They were low heels, nothing crazy. Blue with little white polka-dots. I hadn’t worn them in… I didn’t know how long. I didn’t have occasion to wear heels all that often. Since I found myself with the need to venture outside the relative safety of my dad’s house, I’d decided it was the perfect opportunity to treat myself to cute shoes.
And I’d hoped the chance to wear them would distract me from my anxiety over today’s… whatever this was.
It wasn’t working very well.
The barista worked behind the counter, steaming milk for someone’s order. The soft hiss of steam prickled down my back, making all the little stabilizer muscles in my neck and shoulders tighten. Logically, I knew the sound wasn’t loud. No one else in the shop seemed bothered by it. But it made me long for my noise-canceling headphones.
I fidgeted with a napkin, twisting it back and forth. I knew I didn’t have a good reason to be so anxious. Gavin was just going to show me around town, not take me skydiving or something equally terrifying. My state of distress didn’t make sense.
But I felt it anyway.
It made an uncomfortable pressure bloom between my legs. My cheeks warmed and I tried not to squirm in my seat. I hated it when this happened. Sometimes my hypersensitivity triggered an inexplicable sense of arousal. It was like my body went on high alert and everything—and I mean everything—responded. It was so embarrassing to feel suddenly turned on by nothing.
Taking a deep breath, I did my best to ignore the feeling. I glanced at napkin in my hands, twisted into a narrow strip. Like a rope.
Rope… A series of murders occur across a large area, all with one thing in common. Strangulation. The victims have no apparent connection to each other. How is the killer choosing them? Who will be next? What clues are left behind that might point the investigators in the right direction? Is it a vigilante? Does it dredge up unresolved issues from childhood trauma for the investigator on the case? How does—
The door opened, jarring me from my thoughts. It was someone on a mobility scooter, the kind you’d find in a grocery store, with a roomy wire basket in front.
Wait, Gavin was driving.
Oh my god. Had he hurt himself again and now he couldn’t walk?
I sprang from my chair. “Gavin, what happened?”
His scooter burst forward, then he jerked to a stop just shy of hitting a table.
He grinned at me. “Hey, Sky.”
“Did you hurt your other leg? Where