I shake my head a little and focus back on Charlotte, noticing I’ve been staring blankly at the wall ahead of me while all of this goes through my head. With one eyebrow raised, the corner of her mouth turns up in a lopsided smile.
“You’re in trouble, girl,” she says to me.
Don’t I know it?
This has been the longest week of my life. I’m not sure if it’s from dread or excitement.
Dread, I keep telling myself. There’s no reason to be excited.
But as I enter the courtroom at nine o’clock sharp, my eyes go in search of the man who’s been plaguing all of my thoughts and I know I’m only kidding myself. My feet take me to the closest empty seat while I discreetly look around. By the time I sit down, I haven’t found him yet. Maybe he won’t show up and I’ll be off the hook and won’t have to see him.
No such luck.
The courtroom doors open and in walks Marcus in his uniform, staring directly at me. The air is sucked out of the room, or maybe it’s just me. With all the noise and people moving in the club that night, I didn’t realize what a presence he commands. It’s like as soon as he walked in, all conversation stopped and all eyes were focused on him.
With a cocky grin on his face, he walks past me and has a seat a few rows back. I squirm in my seat, desperate to turn around and look at him.
It’s not long before the judge is calling each case up one by one. I guess Marcus has a whole stack of traffic violations he’s here for, as he has been standing before the judge for several minutes now.
When my case number is called, a new set of nerves hit me, and I remember why I’m here. It’s not to see Marcus, it’s to get out of this damn ticket.
After I’m sworn in and my violations are read, the judge says, “How do you plea?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor.”
Without looking up at me, the judge scribbles some things down on his notepad. “Okay, you are free to present your case now, and then I’ll make a ruling.”
“Thank you. While looking at my citation, it appears that the means used to measure my rate of speed are not listed. The officer has not indicated if a radar gun or pacing was used. This violates my right to due process, so I would like to ask the court to consider throwing the citation out, please.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Marcus’s head turn toward me at a snail’s pace. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting that. It takes everything in me not to turn around and smirk at him, so I settle for an internal high-five and the knowledge that I’m about to get out of this while making him look like an idiot.
“Officer Riley, it would seem the defendant is correct.”
“Yes, Your Honor. It was an oversight on my part.” Marcus’s deep voice rolls right through my body, momentarily distracting me. Focus, Lydia! This asshole is the reason you’re in here right now!
“How’s your driving record, Ms. Kelley?” the judge asks me.
“Perfect record so far, sir.”
“Okay, in light of Officer Riley’s failure to document the incident properly and your clean record, I’m going to dismiss the case.”
My eyes widen in surprise. I can’t believe how easy that was. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
Once I’m excused, I can’t stop myself from throwing a cocky grin Marcus’s way. His only response is to arch an amused brow.
I have a little pep in my step as I walk to my car, but before I can unlock it, I hear, “Lydia! Wait up!” Turning around, I see Marcus jogging toward me.
I let out a tired sigh when he reaches me. “What do you want?”
“Are you an attorney or something? You made me look like an ass back there,” he says. Even though there’s surprise in his voice, I can tell he’s joking with me.
“Nope, but you can find just about anything on the internet.”
“Wow, I’m impressed.”
“And I’m late. I’ve got to get back to work. Goodbye, Officer Riley.”
I spin around but am stopped by a large hand on my arm. “Can I have your number?”
My head falls back as I look up at the sky, frustrated with this conversation, knowing he’s wearing my resolve down. “We’ve been over this. Married. Remember?”
“I call bullshit. Or is your ring still being worked on?”
Dammit. I forgot to put it on before I left. Spinning around to face him, I say, “Look, I’m not interested. I’m sure that’s hard for someone who’s so sure of himself to hear, but I’m not. So, now that I’ve spelled it out for you, you can take your hand off me.” My lips press into a thin line while I drill holes into his face with my glare.
“Sorry.” His hands go up in surrender.
“Also, if you’re trying to take a girl out, you might want to start by letting her off on a warning.”
“Is that right?” I nod and try to hold back my smile, knowing there’s no way any cop would let me go when I was driving so fast above the speed limit. “What kind of officer would I be if I let you go on a violation like that? I’ve got to protect the public from the Dale Jr. wannabes of the world.” There’s a playful gleam in his eye and it’s hard not to get sucked into it. He makes it so easy to banter with him. It’s one of the things that drew me to him in the first place.
His playful demeanor pulls at the corners of my mouth, and I have to focus on not giving away how he gets under my skin. “Ah, well, rest assured I’m hanging up my race suit and learned my lesson.”
He rests his hand on the side of my car and leans a little. “Come on, I wasn’t imagining things at the bar that night. One date. That’s all I ask.” His eyes roam my face waiting for my answer. Taking in a deep breath, I hold it for a second before letting it out in a rush. Before I can reply, he adds, “I don’t want to have to pull you over just to see you again.” His gorgeous white teeth make an appearance behind his full lips, and I almost cave.
Almost.
“Have a great day, Officer Riley.” On that note, I turn around, get back in my car, and drive away. I’ve never had to force myself not to look in the rearview mirror so much in my life.
Marcus
ONE WEEK HAS gone by since I saw Lydia. I’ve done everything to get her out of my head from hitting the gym, to going out for drinks with my buddies, but nothing works. She’s all I think about, which is insane. I’ve never been hung up on a girl like this, but there’s just something about her.
It’s in the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs, or the way her mouth twitches only on the right side when she’s trying not to smile. And I won’t lie; her rejections intrigue me.
She probably thinks I’ve backed off, that there’s no other way for me to contact her.
She’d be wrong.
I’m a very persistent man, but I’m also patient. I’ve had her address since I pulled her over about two weeks ago, but I’m only now using it. Honestly, I thought things would go over a little better after court, especially when I called her out on not being married. Not sure why she lied, probably to thwart off guys like me, but a little digging revealed the guy her car is registered to is actually her dad, not her husband.
I make it back to my car right as Lydia walks out of her building, almost catching me red-handed. She must be on her way to work in her business attire that does an excellent job showing off her best features. From the way it hugs her full tits, to the way it skims over her curves, she has me salivating.
She opens her car door but falters when she spots what I left on her windshield. It’s cheesy as hell, but I’m hoping it’ll chip away at that stubborn exterior of hers.
Go out with me?
Text Yes or No.
919-555-0240
She spins around on her heels with her mouth slightly open, looking in every direction. She passes right over me several times before focusing back down on the note. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but I could swear I see her mouth pull up in a smile. After a few more seconds, she balls it up and tosses it in her back seat.
That’s r
ejection number three.
I chew on the inside of my cheek, wishing I could read her mind right about now. If I thought she really wasn’t interested, I’d back off. But I know there was a connection between us that night, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel it simmering on the surface the times we’ve seen each other since.
Putting my car into drive, I pull out of the parking lot after she leaves. It’s back to the drawing board for me. I’ll have to step up my game.
I’m certainly not giving up yet.
Lydia
HOW IN THE world did he find out where I live?
He’s a cop, genius.
A cop who gave you a ticket that has all your personal information on it.
I can’t explain the myriad of emotions coursing through my body right now. I went from confused, to shocked, to . . . I don’t even know. Remember how you felt as a kid right before the first day of school? You were excited and anxious, a little jittery with a hint of nervousness. Scared to be in class with people you didn’t know, but eager to see old friends. That’s how this feels. It’s a crazy combination of excitement and fear.
Excitement at the prospect of seeing him again.
Fear at what it means that I want to see him again.
My entire drive to work is spent looking in the rearview mirror knowing my link to him is hidden in a crumbled up sheet of paper on my back seat. The whole out of sight, out of mind thing does not apply in this case. His number might as well be a siren blaring behind me. It’s that hard for me to focus on something else.
Walking into the office, I try to get my game face on for the day ahead, but no matter how hard I try, my thoughts wander back toward Marcus.
“Good morning,” Margaret, our secretary greets.
“Good morning. Enjoy your weekend?” I ask her.
“My only complaint is that it was too short.” Margaret has been working for the firm for over twenty years. In her mid-sixties, she has gray hair and a face that has experienced an eventful life. It’s in the laugh-lines around her eyes, and the worry-lines around her lips, showing she’s led a full life. She only works here for something to do with her time. “You look extra happy this morning,” she remarks.
Her comment catches me off guard. “Hmm?” I question.
“You have a little pep in your step and haven’t stopped smiling since you walked in.”
My fingers go to my lips. I didn’t realize I was smiling. I shrug, trying to play it off. “Just having a good morning, I guess.” To avoid any further questions, I turn around and walk into my office.
I fire up my computer, eager to get to work for a much needed distraction. I sent off the final design approvals to the biggest client I’ve ever worked on before I left on Friday, and I’m dying to know what he thought.
As I wait, my cellphone buzzes on my desk. Swiping my finger across the screen, I read the text.
Charlotte: You. Me. Wine. Dinner. Tonight.
Me: I love when you bark commands at me.
Charlotte: Like you’d say no.
Me: To food or wine? Nope. Where’s Nate?
Charlotte: Away on business. Again.
Me: Gotcha. I’ll be there around 6.
Charlotte: Make sure you bring the good stuff. ;-)
I normally let all conversations about her husband go, not wanting to upset her more. Despite Charlotte’s reaction, I know she’s hurting. Nate is never home, so she’s always stuck at home alone in their big house. So whenever she invites me over for dinner, it’s rare that I say no.
My computer is finally up and I rush to check my email. A few seconds later, the response I’d been hoping for pops up on my screen.
Ms. Kelley,
You’ve outdone yourself. The design boards are perfect and encompass everything I had mentioned to you in our earlier meetings in regards to how I wanted each room to look. I approve of it all and can’t wait to see it come to life.
Regards,
William Smith
Smith and Brown Associates
Springing up from my seat, I exit my office and dash down the hall before knocking on my boss’s door.
“Come in!” he says from the other side.
I enter and say, “Good morning, Mr. Hill, I just got word back from William Smith, and it’s a go!” I can’t contain my enthusiasm. I’ve been busting my ass on this one for several weeks, knowing I had to nail it or the job would go to someone else. This is a real chance for me to prove myself to this firm.
“Congratulations, now the real work begins.” Jonathon Hill is one of the most respected decorators in the area. If someone needs a recommendation for interior decorating, you can bet he’s the guy that is mentioned. While he’s a great boss and super easy to work for, the pressure to do well and represent his company in a positive way is intense.
“I know. I’m getting ready to sit down and put the orders in for the furniture now since that’ll take a few weeks to come in.”
“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, but I’m sure you can handle everything just fine,” he says with a smile.
“Thanks, Mr. Hill.”
The morning flies by as I spend most of it ordering furniture and different fabrics from our various vendors. By the time I glance over at my clock, it’s already noon. Standing up, I decide to break for lunch before checking in with a few clients that I had just finished working with a couple weeks prior.
As I walk out the door, I almost run right into Mr. Hill. “Oh,” I gasp, startled. “Sorry about that. I was just headed out for lunch.”
“That’s fine. I wanted to pop in and let you know I just got off the phone with a new client. He was insistent that he work with only you, so I gave him your contact info. He should be calling or emailing you later this afternoon.”
My eyebrows rise in surprise. I’ve never had someone specifically ask for me before. Usually, it’s the other way around and Mr. Hill is recommending me to clients he thinks I’ll pair up with well. “He asked for me? That’s a first.”
Mr. Hill shrugs. “Maybe word has started to spread with how talented you are.”
His compliment brings a smile to my face. “Thanks. I’ll be on the lookout for the details when I get back from lunch then.”
“Enjoy your break.”
With a wave, I continue on in my journey to feed my stomach. She turns into a nasty beast when I’ve neglected her for too long. But once I’ve fed the monster that resides in my belly, I come back to my desk to see an unopened message in my inbox.
From: Christopher Riley
To: Lydia Kelley
Hello Ms. Kelley,
I hope this email finds you well. I’m in dire need of your services where my home is concerned. If it works with your schedule, I’d love to meet to walk you through the place and see what ideas you’d have for it.
I look forward to hearing from you,
Christopher
Well, that was straight to the point. Looking over my calendar, I see that I don’t have a lot going on Thursday.
Mr. Riley,
Thank you for contacting me. I’m eager to get started and see what we have to work with. I have an opening on Thursday at 2:00 p.m. Please let me know if this fits into your schedule. If not, I’d be more than happy to work around a time that is best for you.
So that I’m a little prepared, could you give me a few details? Are you looking for a full redesign of the entire house, or specific rooms? Do you have a particular style you’re going for? More modern and contemporary, or traditional? Also, do you reside in the residence alone, or do you live with a family, significant other, etc?
I look forward to getting started,
Lydia
His response is almost immediate.
Lydia,
It’s just me here, no one else. Mr. Hill sent over a few of the rooms you’ve redecorated before per my request, so I trust your taste. You have a blank canvas. I’ll see you at 2:00 on Thursday. You’ll find my address
below.
Thank you,
Christopher
4132 Mill Hopper Lane
Apex, NC 27502
Gate Access code is 0714#
The first thing that catches my eye are five magical words.
You have a blank canvas.
That’s a decorator’s dream. While having no direction can have its challenges, I’m super stoked to have free reign. Getting a jump start, I pull together a variety of looks from my portfolio to see which style appeals to him most.
I pull into the parking lot to my apartment at four thirty on the nose. It was a long day, but an exciting one too. But what waits for me at my door causes me to pause.
Laying on the floor is a single rose with a small card attached by a ribbon. Before I pick it up, I already know who it’s from.
Go out with me?
Text Yes or No.
919-555-0240
If I thought he’d give up soon, I was wrong, especially since I find the same note and flower at my doorstep the next three days. And each time, I throw the card in the trash to keep from texting him, but today is different. Once I’ve set my stuff on the kitchen counter, I pull out my phone.
Me: You know stalking is illegal, right? Since you’re a cop and all, I just wanted to make sure you were aware.
919-555-0240: I’m aware. That’s not what I’m doing though.
I quickly save his number into my phone before replying.
Me: Yes, it is.
Stalker: No, it’s not. Stalking involves aggressive, threatening, and often illegal behavior. Asking you to go out with me and leaving you flowers falls under none of those categories.
I stare at the screen, hoping a snarky reply will magically pop up, but it doesn’t.
Me: Whatever.
Childish, I know, but it’s the only thing I could come up with.
Stalker: Is that a yes then?
Calculated Risk Page 3
