Stay With Me (Serendipity Book 2)

by Kali Argent

  She exuded beauty and confidence, and he couldn’t imagine anyone not being instantly charmed by her. “You’re very likeable, Starla. So, what’s the problem?”

  “I’m excellent at my job, but I’m afraid I’m not very good with people.” She finally looked up to meet his gaze, her brilliant blue eyes dark with emotion. “I don’t relate to them the way you do.”

  “Okay.” Turner nodded once, an insane idea beginning to take form. “Before I get ahead of myself, tell me something. Do you actually want my help? Or were you just musing out loud?”

  A shy smile curved her lips at the corners. “I wouldn’t say no to some advice.”

  Sure, he could give her advice, but he saw no fun or adventure in words. “Do you trust me?”

  “Hypothetically?”

  Tuner laughed at her hesitancy. “Come to the store next week.”

  She studied him through narrowed eyes. “Why?”

  Partly, because her suspicion amused him. Mostly, because it gave him an excuse to see her again. Leaning back in his seat, he rested his right ankle on his left knee and templed his fingers under his chin.

  “I guess you’ll find out when you come by the store.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Starla braced an elbow on the desk and dropped her forehead into her palm. The red warning glared back at her from the computer screen, informing her she’d entered the wrong password to access her cloud drive. Below the warning, in smaller, yellow letters, the password hint taunted her.

  “Tick tock?” Her friend and co-worker, James Bartholomew, pressed against the back of her chair, leaning over her shoulder as he slid his glasses back up his long, narrow nose. “What does that mean?”

  “No clue.” Starla had backups of all her files on a new external hard drive, which she kept locked in a desk drawer when not in use. After the last mishap, she wasn’t taking any chances, but her current predicament still put a damper on her workday. “I’m locked out of everywhere. Social media, cloud drives, both email accounts—personal and business—and I can’t even access the company server.”

  Straightening, James cleared his throat and smoothed a hand through his brown curls. No matter how he tried to tame them, they never cooperated, and the unruly locks dwarfed his thin face. He lamented almost daily that the ringlets made him appear too boyish for a man of thirty-six, and sadly, Starla had to agree. His black, horn-rimmed glasses and the maroon tie with gold accents—his Tuesday tie—didn’t do him any favors, either.

  James pursed his lips, his dark-gray eyes glazed and unfocused. “You’re still using the same password for everything, aren’t you?” he asked after a significant pause. “I warned you about that.”

  Starla chewed her bottom lip and stared down at her keyboard. “I can’t remember twenty different passwords,” she replied, but her argument lacked heat. “I know.” Rubbing both hands over her face, she slouched back in her seat and sighed. “Can we skip the I-told-you-sos and just work on getting me back into my accounts?”

  James held his hands up and backed away, his scuffed loafers swishing over the midnight-blue, Berber carpet. “I can sell you ocean-front property in Kansas, but this stuff?” He nodded at her laptop. “I want to help, but I really think this is a job for Tech.”

  Glancing at the sleek, digital clock on her desk, Starla pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “It’s after six. Tech has already gone home for the day.” She’d backed up her most important files before everything had gone to hell, but this invasion of privacy left her seething. “Who would do something like this? What point does it serve?”

  “It doesn’t.” James lifted his shoulders when she glared at him. “I’m sorry, Starla, but it just doesn’t. It’s juvenile, and it’s not as though you won’t retrieve your passwords eventually. When did you notice you were locked out of your accounts?”

  “About an hour ago, right after I’d saved the last of my work for the day.” Dread curled in her stomach, its icy tendrils snaking out to her extremities. “No.” She shook her head firmly as she pulled her portable hard drive from the right-hand, top drawer of her chrome desk. “I have everything backed up here. Even if someone was after my files, I still have copies.”

  The paranoia wouldn’t dissipate, and the rigid, rectangular box filled with her entire day’s work provided her with little solace. Her last hard drive had been mysteriously wiped clean, though at the time, she’d chalked it up to mishandling on her part. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  James squeezed her shoulder, gently massaging the knotted muscles. “Are you going to check that?” he asked, nodding at the box in her hand.

  Starla shook her head. “Not until I get home.”

  The wait to check her backups on her desktop computer would kill her, but she wouldn’t risk connecting the hard drive to her laptop, not if someone had tampered with it.

  “Come on,” James coaxed, his voice quiet and sympathetic. “There’s nothing more you can do today. Tech will figure it out in the morning.”

  Sighing, Starla reached up to pat the top of his hand where it still rested on her shoulder. “You go on. I’m going to stay a bit longer.”

  “If you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  After another few minutes of procrastination, James finally left her office, but not before he’d made her promise to call if she needed anything. She’d agreed, although she knew she’d never call. What she needed, only one person could provide, and with that thought in mind, she picked up her cell phone and dialed.

  Turner answered on the second ring, and there was a smile in his voice when he spoke. “Hello, stranger.”

  “I just saw you three days ago.” His teasing calmed some of her anxiety and instantly brightened her spirits. “How was your day?”

  Sunday, she’d spent the entire day working on her presentation, and by the time she’d pulled herself away from her computer, it had been well past midnight. She’d planned to call Turner on Monday after her last meeting of the day. Unfortunately, she hadn’t counted on her client—a vivacious bakery owner—being quite so chatty.

  By the time they’d finished discussing advertising options—as well as a slew of things that had nothing to do with business—Starla had been exhausted. She’d also been a little nauseated from all the cupcakes she’d consumed, but they’d just been too delicious to resist.

  “My day was most excellent. I battled invading aliens, dueled with bandits, and finished second in the Neverland 500.”

  The tight muscles in her shoulders loosened as she listened to him talk, and a broad smile stretched her lips. “So, you spent all day playing.”

  “Of course,” he answered, though some of the joy had faded from his tone. “Now, tell me what happened.”

  “Who said anything happened?” Kicking her shoes off, Starla pulled both feet onto her chair and tucked them under her, crossing her legs at the ankles. “It’s just been a long day. You know, some of us actually have to work for a living.”

  “I work,” Turner argued. “I also don’t believe you, but I’ll let you have your secrets for now.” He paused, but the silence that stretched between them felt comforting rather than awkward. “Come by the store. I have something for you.”

  “Is it covered in chocolate?”

  “Hmm, I think I can arrange something. Actually, just stay where you are. I’ll come get you.”

  “Oh, Turner, that’s really not necessary.” It would be a lie to say she didn’t want to see him again, but she also didn’t want her bad mood to sully their time together. “I was just about to leave the office for the day.”

  “Okay, that’s great. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  The stubborn fool never listened to a word she said. “Do you even know where you’re going?”

  “Yes. Hold on.” His voice sounded muffled, and she could just make out another voice—a feminine voice—in the background. “Rina is getting directions,” he informed her after another minute. “
Got it. Better make that twenty minutes.”

  “This is completely ridiculous. There’s no sense in you driving over here and back when I can just as easily meet you at the store.”

  “Who said we’re coming back to the store?”

  Her eyebrows winged toward her hairline, and she gripped the phone a little tighter. “Where are we going?” His surprises would be the death of her. “Should I be concerned?”

  “Probably,” he answered, and she could practically hear the shrug in his voice. “See you soon.”

  Then he hung up without another word.

  Rolling her eyes, Starla dropped her phone into her purse and went about shutting down her laptop and packing it away, along with her portable hard drive. Confident she had everything of importance, she slipped her shoes back on—her favorite pair of black kitten heels—and combed her fingers through her hair.

  The wrinkles in her lilac-colored blouse couldn’t be helped, nor could the creases at the knees of her black slacks. She comforted herself with the knowledge that Turner would likely be wearing his standard outfit of faded jeans and plain, cotton T-shirt, possibly with some ludicrous cartoon or silly saying on it.

  Exiting her postage stamp-sized office, she closed the door behind her, double checked the lock, then groaned when she realized she’d forgotten her coat. After a lot of rummaging and cursing, she fished her keys out of her computer case, just as the strap on her purse snapped, turning the bag upside down and spilling its contents across the carpet.

  The stress of the day finally caught up to her, and Starla felt tired down to her soul. Leaning against the wall, she slid to the floor amongst her scattered belongings and pulled her knees to her chest, tucking them under her chin. And that was exactly how Turner found her.

  He paused a few feet away, surveying the mess. Then, without a word, he shuffled to her side and lowered himself to the floor beside her.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked a few minutes later.

  “I locked my coat in my office.”

  Turner nodded and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close until her head rested on his shoulder. “I locked mine in my car once. It happens.” Another few minutes of silence passed before he spoke again. “Now, I’m not judging, but is there a reason you have five tubes of cherry lip balm in your purse?”

  “Just because the label is red doesn’t mean they’re all cherry.” Relaxing into his warm embrace, she chuckled wearily. “Cherry, strawberry, plumb, watermelon, and well, okay, the other one is cherry, too.”

  “I stand by my original question. Why do you need five?”

  “What if I lose one?” She frowned at the closest tube. “Or four?”

  Turner laughed and kissed her temple. “Fine, I concede. Now, are you going to tell me what really happened?”

  “You smell nice.” The words tumbled through her lips before she could bite them back, but that wasn’t the only thing different about him. Struggling into a sitting position, she faced him with a critical eye. “Is that a new shirt?”

  He’d left the two top buttons undone on the thin, long-sleeved shirt, revealing a mint green undershirt beneath it. The mocha-colored material matched his eyes almost perfectly, and the frosted, white buttons added a touch of flair. Of course, he’d paired the dress shirt with a pair of distressed jeans, but Starla had to admit the ensemble looked good on him.

  “Maybe. It depends.” He brushed his fingertips down the buttons. “Do you like it?”

  Turner’s words lacked their usual bravado, and he watched her carefully, his gaze flickering over every subtle change in her expression. Her answer truly mattered to him, and Starla melted at the first hint of insecurity he’d shown since they’d met.

  “I do like it.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “You look very handsome.” Looking at him now, she noticed he’d also trimmed his hair into a shorter, stylish cut, but she kind of missed his shaggy, unkempt tresses. “I’ll tell you a secret, though.”

  A bit of the usual sparkle returned to his eyes, and he positioned himself closer. “Do tell.”

  “I think you look just as handsome in a T-shirt and baggy jeans.” Her heart stuttered at the confession, and heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks, but she forced herself to continue. “Turner, you don’t have to try to impress me. I agreed to go out with you because I like you.”

  Her breath caught in her chest when he turned the full wattage of his signature smile on her.

  “I knew you liked me.”

  Of course that was what he’d take away from the conversation. A few days ago, she might have huffed in frustration, damning him for never being able to take anything seriously. Now, she saw right through his glib retorts.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts. “There’s this diner about a mile from here that serves all-you-can-eat pancakes morning, noon, and night.”

  Starla pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. “I’m not even going to ask.” It had been ages since she’d had pancakes, let alone enjoyed them for dinner. “Let me just get my coat and clean up this mess. We can take my car.”

  Rising to his feet in one, fluid motion, Turner offered a hand to help her up from the floor. “Grab your coat.” He used just the tip of his index finger to brush her bangs out of her eyes. “I’ll get this, and I promise to save every one of your lip balms.”

  “My hero.”

  With Turner’s help, Starla managed to retrieve her wool peacoat from her office, gather her things, and exit the building without further disaster. Sadly, her good fortune lasted only as far as the parking garage.

  “Tell me that isn’t a flat tire.” Standing at the left rear of her car, she stared down at the clearly deflated tire and groaned. “I just want this bloody day to end.”

  Turner crouched in front of the wheel and ran his hands over the tread. “Ah, it’s just a nail. Do you have a spare?”

  Her stomach rolled with embarrassment, and she looked away when she answered. “That is the spare.” The coffeehouse she frequented was currently undergoing renovation, and she’d faced the exact situation just the week before. “I’ll call a tow company, but it’ll likely take some time. You don’t have to stay.”

  “No need.” Pushing to his feet, Turner wiped his hands on his pant legs and shook his head. “I’ll give you a lift, and we’ll take care of it in the morning. There’s a security guard here at night?”

  Starla nodded. “Two, and cameras, but really, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t.” Rounding the vehicle, he checked the locks on each door before meeting her at the back bumper. “I really am starving, though. Are you ready?”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Despite her protests, Turner took her messenger bag and draped the strap over his shoulder. Then he looked her dead in the eye and bobbed his head solemnly.

  “I never joke about pancakes.”

  Starla laughed, though barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “How do you do that? No matter how utterly horrid my day has been, you always know what to say to put it into perspective.”

  Instead of the witty comeback she’d expected, Turner took her hand and began walking toward the exit of the parking garage. “You’re overthinking it, and giving me far too much credit. I’m really not that deep.” As they neared a white Ford Explorer with tinted windows, he slowed and pulled a set of keys from the front pocket of his jeans. “The truth is I love the way you laugh. It’s warm and dazzling, and it just makes me happy.”

  Starla didn’t for a moment believe he went out of his way to ease her worries just because he liked the sound of her laughter, but she appreciated the compliment, nonetheless. “That was an incredibly sweet thing to say. Thank you.”

  Opening the back, passenger side door of the SUV, Turner dropped her bag into the seat and shrugged. “It’s the truth. So really, it’s kind of selfish when you think about it.”

  Starla smiled politel
y but didn’t reply. In truth, Turner was probably the least selfish person she’d ever met. Some of his acts of kindness she’d seen with her own eyes, and some she’d only heard about from his store manager, Catrina. He worked extra hours to give his employees more time with their families, and he hired at-risk teenagers from low income families to stock the shelves.

  All manner of lost souls seemed to gravitate to Turner, and from what she’d witnessed, he welcomed each of them with open arms. At the end of each season, after the lowest discounts had been applied, he donated all leftover merchandise to shelters, preschools, and daycare centers. The man even sponsored a peewee hockey team for pity’s sake.

  “What are you thinking so hard about?” Turner asked, opening the passenger door and helping her up into her seat.

  “You,” she answered honestly, but said nothing more on the subject. “So, where is this magical diner?”

  “Nope. You first.” He closed her door and jogged around the back of the SUV to climb into the driver’s seat. “What happened today?” he elaborated once he’d fastened his seatbelt and started the engine. “Was it work or something personal?”

  Since she had no reason to hide the truth, Starla told him all the sordid details of her day while he drove. “I’ll have to take my laptop to Tech in the morning,” she concluded, just as Turner pulled into the parking lot of a diner no bigger than a cable car.

  “I know a little about computers. If you want, I can take a look at it for you after we eat. If you don’t mind me hanging around your place for a couple of hours, that is.”

  The stiff muscles in her neck and the tightness in her chest began to loosen. If he really could do what he claimed, she’d even agree to go back to Wonderland and actually have that drink. Excuses aside, she hadn’t seen him in days, and she didn’t want to say goodnight so soon.

  “Only if you let me pay for dinner.”

  Turner pulled into a parking space and put the transmission in park. “By your own admission, you like me. Right?”

  Starla had an idea of where the conversation was headed, and it made her smile. “Yes.”