by Stacy Juba
"It’ll be the last one," Cassidy said. "I'll be back in a couple hours."
Her mother sailed into the kitchen, sandals clickety-clacking against the tile. She squeezed between Glenn and the doorframe. "Please don’t stay out too late. It'll be dark soon."
"Good night, Mom. I'll call you tomorrow." Cassidy dragged Zach by the hand as he directed a helpless glance over his shoulder. She led him down three flights and faltered at the exit.
"You sure you want to do this?" Zach asked. "I don't think your family's too keen on the idea."
"They want me to live my life in a bubble. I won't do that. Let's go."
Chapter Fifteen
Cassidy ran a mile at the track, working off tension while Zach snapped photos. Afterwards, he pulled into the Dunkin' Donuts drive-thru and bought them each iced coffee and a honey bun. As he waited for change, she lifted a pastry out of the sticky paper bag. She didn't care about carbs tonight.
Mosquitoes flitted around the open passenger-side window, spiraling in the dusky sky. Down the street, a Patsy Cline impersonator purred "Walkin' After Midnight," her throaty voice resonating during the last "Concert on the Common" of the season.
"Where to?" Zach asked as he coasted into the exit lane.
Cassidy shrugged. She wasn’t ready to go home and say goodbye to Zach. "How about your motel?"
"It's a dump. You sure you want to go there?"
"Unless you have any better ideas."
"Don't expect the Ritz. In fact, expect the exact opposite."
Zach drove the short distance to the Countryside Motel and parked near an out-of-order soda machine. He unlocked a door with peeling paint and they stepped into the dim interior. Zach groped for a light.
Compared to this musty room, Glenn's apartment resembled a penthouse. Cassidy fingered the worn olive drapes that offered ultimate privacy. If she were the manager, she wouldn't want to know what went on here either. Faded dark green wallpaper filigreed with lighter green pineapples and bananas curled at the edges.
She hunkered on the edge of the hard bed, the covers a tousled mess. No mints on the pillows here. No decent maid service, either, although an envelope on the nightstand requested gratuities. Zach looked around, probably for someplace to sit. There was no couch, table or chairs, just a small television outfitted with cable.
"This is it," he said, still standing. "Home sweet home."
Cassidy assessed the closet with its neat row of clothes on hangers and zipped suitcase underneath. "Looks like you've been here awhile."
"Yeah. It’s cheap and I’m not in the room much. It’ll do until I find something better." Zach relocated a stack of newspapers and parked himself on the dresser beside a laptop computer. He cupped his iced coffee in his lap.
"Or until you decide where your next move is? I'm surprised there aren't mice."
"Try ants." His cowboy boots pressed down into the ratty green carpet as his long legs dangled from the dresser. "Tell me, how are you doing? Really?"
Cassidy sighed as she fingered the thin bedspread. She thought about lying, giving him the fake bravado act she’d used on her family, but she ached to confess her frustrations to someone. Not just about her stalker, but about the course of her life in general.
"Not good," Cassidy admitted. "Nothing’s happening the way I thought it would, Zach. How am I supposed to save enough money to start a chain of fitness centers with the way things are going? My agent isn’t getting the offers we hoped for, and because of this stalker situation, I’m waffling at the few opportunities that are coming in. Now I don’t even have my job."
"I’m not sure that job was right for you anyway," Zach said. "You were running yourself ragged. Maybe deep down, you knew that and the stalking was a good excuse to leave."
"Maybe. My agent thinks I should appear on more reality shows and go on the speaker circuit to stay in the public eye. If I prove I’m not just the flavor of the month, I might get bigger offers. I’ve got to get this stalking thing resolved so I can move on."
Zach downed the remainder of his iced coffee and tossed the cup into the small trash bucket. "Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you’re going about your career all wrong." He smiled, softening the sting of his words. "The more offers you get, the more scattered you’ll be. With more and more responsibilities, you won’t have time to focus on your goals. At this rate, you’ll burn out before you’re thirty."
Cassidy rolled her eyes heavenward, even though his words held a nugget of truth. While her dream was always in the back of her mind, lately she’d been too drained to develop her ideas. She could attribute her lack of focus partly to the stalker mess, but that wasn’t the only reason. Being a fitness director, personal trainer and celebrity swallowed her energy, not to mention daylight. To accomplish anything else, she’d have to forsake sleep and her body wouldn’t allow that. Still, Zach’s naiveté grated on her nerves.
"Of course it’s not the ideal way, but short of winning the lottery or robbing a bank, what am I supposed to do?" Cassidy challenged. "I can’t launch a chain of fitness centers without money."
"You can’t launch one club without a lot of legwork. Which you won’t have time to do unless you find a reality show that can clone you." Zach got up and advanced to the edge of the bed, his close physical nearness sparking something deep within her inner core. "Why can’t you concentrate on starting your business instead of all this celebrity stuff? Now that you’re not working, you can research small business loans and grants. I’m sure plenty of local people would join your club. Someday, maybe you can take the concept national, but why complicate things now?"
"But ... that’s a lot smaller than I was imagining," she muttered, looking up at him. "What if it failed?"
Zach opened his mouth, then glued it shut again.
"What?" she demanded.
"You’re a lot more likely to fail if you jump in over your head. Have you ever considered that you’re afraid of failure and that’s why you keep procrastinating?"
Cassidy reddened. Where did he get off, judging everything she had strived toward all those months? "I wasn’t procrastinating. I worked my butt off on SOS to make a million dollars and get my name out there. It’s not my fault it fell through. If you think I’m so stupid, why didn’t you tell me all this before, when I first met you?"
"I don’t think you’re stupid. I think you’re a driven, smart, beautiful, perfectionist who takes care of everyone else except herself because she’s got something to prove." He picked up her hand and electricity pulsed between them, but she didn’t let herself get swept up by it. Not yet.
"What’s that supposed to mean?" she asked, raising her voice. "What do you think I’m trying to prove?"
"You’re the only one who has the answer to that. As for why I wasn’t honest with you before, I tried to hint at it, but I didn’t want to be too critical. I hardly knew you then. Now we’re friends."
"Is that all we are?" she snapped. "Just friends?"
"Good friends." Zach cupped the sides of her head, his kisses feathering her cheek, trailing along her neck. Cassidy fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, her anger diminishing into unshed passion. As the first few popped open, she stroked his smooth chest and played with whirls of dark hair.
Nobody had ever analyzed her like that before, seeing straight through to her soul. Of course she had something to prove. Her father had ditched her when she was four. That tended to screw up a kid. Still, Cassidy wasn’t convinced that she should backpedal on her goals. Then she’d always wonder what might have happened if she followed Deniz Jewell’s advice.
But she wouldn’t think about that right now, not with her stalker still at large. Not with Zach, here with her, alone in this room. Cassidy turned their bodies, steering him closer to the bed. She started to lightly push him down.
Zach grabbed her arm, a strange expression on his face. "No," he whispered.
"What do you mean?"
"We can't do this. Not yet. I can't tak
e advantage of you."
Her throat tight, Cassidy backed toward the dresser. She'd made an idiot out of herself, presuming too much. "First of all, cowboy, no one takes advantage of me. If you think I'm looking for a commitment, you're dead wrong."
"I hope you're just saying that. I do want a committed relationship with someone. Deep down, I'll bet you do, too." He fidgeted, avoiding her stare. "That's why we should wait till after the stalking. The timing is too stressful."
"Come on, Zach. If you're not interested in me, just say so. It's no big deal."
"Don't be cynical, Cassidy. You have no idea how much I care about you, or how tempted I am. I just don't want you to do something in a vulnerable moment that you might regret."
"You're right. We shouldn't do something we'll regret. I'm gonna go." Cassidy drew her keys out of her purse, and remembered Zach had driven her. Her eyes closed in frustration.
"Stay awhile," Zach urged. "We can talk more, then I'll take you home."
"I don't need a ride. I'd rather walk."
"Please, I want to drive you."
"I told you, that's not necessary." Cassidy slammed the door, tears pressing behind her eyelids as she stepped outside. Of course he didn’t want her. She didn’t deserve a good guy like Zach. Her own father had shunned her out of his life.
Zach ran outside after her. "Cassidy! Let me drive you. It's not safe to walk."
"I’ll be fine." Cassidy left Zach in the middle of the parking lot.
Temperatures had dropped and blackness veiled the sky. She strode down the deserted sidewalk past a gas station and pizza place, overcoming an urge to sprint. Once again, she’d made a stupid impulsive decision, to walk alone in the dark with a stalker on the loose, but it was too late to seek Zach’s help now. She wasn’t that desperate.
Tree shadows wavered on the pavement and she ducked to avoid the leafy branches snaking toward her head. Cassidy’s finger hovered on the tip of the pepper spray attached to her keychain.
No music resounded from the Town Common, the drone of crickets filling dead air. Most cars had vacated the parking lot. Cassidy increased her pace. She rushed by murky side streets and cavernous front yards shrouded in shadows, wishing she had a gun. She'd applied for the license a lifetime ago.
She mentally reviewed the businesses interspersing her two-mile route back. Car repair places, antique shops and gift stores, abandoned at night. Burger King would be open at the corner of Glenn's street. Nothing until then. She had a long way to go before civilization.
Chills scudded up her spine as a car engine hummed behind her. Cassidy glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting Zach's Honda. She gaped at the dark sedan coasting alongside her, barely moving, front windows tinted. Her legs froze to the sidewalk, her muscles gelatinous. The car inched closer, at her heels.
She bolted into the yard of a clapboard cape and raced past the shed. Cassidy floundered at the above-ground swimming pool, moonlight cutting the water into ribbons. She debated between knocking on the back door and fleeing into the woods.
No time to knock. Cassidy dashed into the backyard and scaled the decaying wooden fence. Panting, she landed on her feet in overgrown grass and mud.
She tore through the dark trees, grass brushing her bare legs and twigs snapping under her sneakers. Her feet sank into a soft mound of leaves. She risked a look back. Nothing but darkness and patches of starry sky. Cassidy stumbled over a rock embedded in the soil.
She halted before the rustling shrubs. Not daring to breathe, she gripped the pepper spray upright. A black cat slunk out, tail whipping back and forth. Luminous jade eyes glittering, it padded onto a fallen limb and disappeared into the crackle of undergrowth. Thank God. She'd never been so grateful to have a black cat cross her path.
Cassidy scrambled deeper among the trees, dodging the boughs lashing her face. House lights twinkled a few hundred yards away. These "woods" were tiny. Her stalker could surprise her from the opposite direction.
Her cell phone. Cassidy crouched behind an oak tree and dug into her purse.
"Cassidy," a voice hissed in her ear.
Aiming the pepper spray, she discerned the contours of Zach's features in the moonlight. Relief ebbed over her. "How did you find me?"
"I couldn't let you go off in the dark. I pulled into parking lots and watched you from a distance. That car came out of nowhere."
"What happened to it?"
"The driver took off when I stopped behind him. I couldn’t make out the license plate. Come on, let’s get out of here." Zach glanced behind a thicket of bushes.
Cassidy choked back her pride. "Good idea."
They picked their way through the foliage, heading toward the yard with the swimming pool. Zach grabbed her hand and paused under a trellis alongside the house. He peered out at the street, checking both ways.
"Run for it," he said.
They whisked under the archway and down the sidewalk. Within seconds, Zach had gunned the engine and scraped the car away from the curb. Cassidy buckled her seat belt, staring out into the night. What might have happened if Zach hadn't come along?
Adam/Miles/whoever must have followed her and Zach to the motel. That meant he'd staked out Glenn's neighborhood, blending into the scenery. He could have hidden in the Burger King lot, observing cars, waiting for her to leave.
She couldn’t take this torture.
She would stay with Glenn's cousins in Vermont. Temporarily.
They drove in silence.
"It might not have been your stalker," Zach said. "It could've been some sicko who saw a woman walking alone."
"Maybe."
"You're bull-headed, you know that? No offense, but taking off by yourself was dumb."
"I know," she snapped. "Apparently, you think a lot of things I do are dumb."
His voice dropped a notch. "I care about you, Cassidy. I just want the timing to be right."
The words pierced her lungs and she found it hard to breathe. Even if he spoke the truth, she didn't want a serious relationship. In her experience, they were all destined for failure. She may as well save them both heartache. Cassidy swiveled toward the window. "Let's forget it ever happened. We're better off as friends."
"Why?" he asked.
"I keep friends. Trust me. If you’re really into this commitment thing, don’t waste your time on me. You were right, I’m flighty and scattered, always juggling too many things. There must be some nice girl out there who rides horses, likes country music and knows how to relax."
Zach groaned. "You don’t like country music? You’re right. This relationship is going nowhere."
Cassidy suppressed the beginnings of a smile. When they reached Glenn’s building, Zach accompanied her inside. She unlocked the apartment door and asked him to wait in the corridor.
"I’ll be right back," Cassidy said. "I just want to tell my stepfather what happened."
She closed the door halfway, leaving Zach alone in the hall. Cassidy paused for a moment, relief flowing over her at being back in a familiar environment. It wasn’t her own apartment, but it surpassed the woods any day.
"Is that you, Cassidy?" her stepfather called from his bedroom.
She pushed open his door and found Glenn sitting up in bed, an open Ray Bradbury novel parked beside him. Guilt pricked at her as she registered his uneasy expression.
"I knew you were probably fine with Zach, but I was getting worried," he said.
And for good reason.
"I’m sorry about the comment I made tonight," Cassidy said, leaning against the wall. "You’re the best dad anyone could have. I just get defensive."
Glenn rolled sideways in his dark blue sweats. "I didn't take it personally. I know I'm not your real father, but I hope you realize that you can count on me."
"I do. I'm taking your advice. I'll go to Vermont, until my gun license comes through."
He brightened behind his beard. "You will? What changed your mind?"
"A car followed us, a dark four-d
oor sedan." Cassidy skipped over the tidbit about wandering alone on foot.
"My God. Did you lose him? What happened?"
"We lost him. Hold that thought. I've got to say goodbye to Zach."
She turned back to the living room and approached her overflowing duffel bag. Cassidy hesitated before lifting the cowboy hat that rested on top and stepping into the hallway.
Zach pinned his eyes on the Stetson, then on Cassidy. Understanding doused his puzzlement. "You don't have to give it back. We’re friends, right?"
"Sure, but you have better use for it than I do. I'm-" Cassidy started to tell him she was leaving town, then changed her mind. He didn't need to know she was running away. "I don’t look good in hats."
"You’d look good in anything."
He sounded so sincere that a blush crept into her cheeks.
Zach hesitated and squeezed her hand. "Take care of yourself, you hear me? If you need anything, call."
"I'll be okay. Thanks for being there. I don't know if I ever thanked you."
He slapped the cowboy hat on his head. "Anytime."
Cassidy watched him pivot on his heel, glad she had returned the Stetson. She no longer wanted to hurl it under a Mack truck, but she couldn't sleep beside the thing either.
Chapter Sixteen
Cassidy positioned herself at the living room picture window, taking in the distant blue green mountains. Mist shrouded the sloped peaks, swathing balsams, hemlock and white pines. Flowers bloomed around the backyard porch, reds and yellows bright against a thin coat of fog.
Under other circumstances, Cassidy would have enjoyed a visit to the mountains, but not when she had so much to do. She swung around and crossed the wide-planked pine floor.
Overhead, exposed beams slanted down from the thirty-foot vaulted ceiling. Rosemary had recounted the history of the 1860s-farmhouse, which had undergone additions over the decades, finally connecting to the original barn. Handmade medallion quilts adorned the dark wood walls.
Chazz, an eight-year-old German Shepherd, dozed on the raised stone slab floor surrounding the Franklin stove, black ears twitching. Cassidy had given up on him as a guard dog.
