We shake, and I get an enjoyable whiff of her perfume. It smells like lilacs, and it seems to go with her bohemian style. She has on an ankle-length white skirt scalloped with eyelets, along with a lavender off-the-shoulder blouse cinched with a belt of large silver loops interconnected with one another.
“But I could have been anyone walking in the door,” I point out with a laugh.
Clarke shakes her head, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “Apparently, Kane was talking you up at the team practice yesterday, which included bragging about what you do for a living. Aaron also texted me the link to your IG account, and I unabashedly admit to stalking it a bit this morning. Your travel pictures are simply amazing. So, of course, I recognized you. I thought you might bring Samson by, though,” she adds with disappointment.
“I didn’t think dogs would be welcome,” I admit.
“Next time, bring him. I’m eager to meet the pooch who is your traveling companion. Now, how about some tea or coffee, then we can chat for a bit?”
“Tea,” I say.
“And scones?” she asks with a sly grin.
I laugh, deciding I love this woman dearly already. “I wouldn’t say no.”
I follow her into the back room, asking how she got started in the book business. Clarke chatters on while she fixes tea, then pulls out a bakery box filled with orange and cranberry scones. She arranges everything on a beautiful hand-carved wooden platter complete with a delicate teapot and matching cups with etched roses around the rims.
We head back into the store to a corner with two oversized chairs with fluffy cushions. She motions for me to sit. We serve ourselves, but before I can even lift a scone for a bite, Clarke asks, “Okay… you must tell me everything about you and Kane. Because as far as I know, just last week he was as single as they come, and now he’s in deep with you.”
“In deep with me?” I ask curiously.
“Girl… did you hear me say he talked you up big time at practice? And if you think men don’t gossip about women, you’d be wrong. Aaron was all abuzz with Kane’s new love life when he came home last night. So dish… tell me all about it.”
It’s not a story I mind telling. After all, Kane and I have had a marvelous friendship. What we have now, while new and sometimes even scary because of the deeper connection we’re navigating, it’s a story I wish more people could experience themselves.
I explain how we met, how I got my nickname of Noodle, how we bonded at college, and our one drunk night of sex that never went anywhere.
“So, you two just went back to being friends?” she asks in amazement.
“In hindsight, it seems stupid right now,” I admit.
Clarke shakes her head. “I don’t believe that. Timing is everything. You wanted to travel, and Kane was headed to the pros. It wouldn’t have worked back then.”
“You’re right,” I say, reaching for my tea. “It probably would have been a disaster. Was it just the right time for you and Aaron?”
Clarke snickers. “It was the wrong time for me. I was so against having a relationship with someone famous like him, but he slowly won me over. It turns out he knew it was the right time, but I didn’t. I’m thankful he’s a persistent man.”
Clarke is one of the easiest women I’ve had the pleasure of talking to in a long time. While I’ve had the opportunity to meet women like me in my travels—those who just want to be on the open road—it’s refreshing to find someone who takes pleasure in living in her hometown, owning a little bookstore, and being in love.
It makes me wonder what joys I might find in such an existence, not that I’d want to own a bookstore—or any store for that matter. More along the lines of establishing roots, I mean.
I raise my cup to my mouth, drain the last of my tea, and let my gaze drift to the storefront window as someone passes by. I’ve been surprised no one has come in yet since we’ve been sitting here a good twenty minutes.
It’s a man walking by. At first, my attention isn’t caught to any significant degree—just a passerby.
But then I do a double-take before he moves past the window and my hackles rise.
He’s wearing a hat. I can see blond hair poking out the back, but there’s something overly familiar in his stride. His height. His build.
He’s gone before I can fully comprehend what I might have seen, but I practically throw my teacup back onto the serving tray with an alarming rattle as I bolt out of my chair.
I think that was Matthew.
“Mollie,” Clarke says hesitantly, rising slowly from her chair. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Not a ghost.
But perhaps a man who is stalking me.
Swiveling to glance back at Clarke, I feel the words clog in my throat. I cough, then admit, “I think that was someone I know.”
“Someone not good,” she surmises, reaching out to touch my shoulder.
I hesitate. What if it was Matthew? Surely it wasn’t a coincidence he happened to stroll past a store I was in. He didn’t look inside. Instead, he’d rather casually—if not briskly—walked down the sidewalk.
Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. It could have been any tall, blond man with a similar build. I didn’t get a good look at his face.
Or did I?
Yes, I think I recognized his nose. The slight bump along the ridge from breaking it in a fall off his bike years ago.
No, surely not.
But maybe.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Clarke, then scramble for the door. I push it open, bolt onto the sidewalk, and turn in the direction the man went.
He’s already on the next block, and I can’t tell anything from his back. I don’t recognize the clothing, but does that mean anything?
I consider giving chase, but what would I do if I caught him and it was Matthew?
What if I caught up to him and it wasn’t? Some mild embarrassment, that’s for sure.
Just as I resolve to take off after him, he angles to a sidewalk cafe with several outdoor tables. He heads straight to where a woman sits with her computer in front of her, a cup of coffee beside it. A pretty blonde dressed casually with her hair in a ponytail.
She glances up as the man reaches the table, giving him a surprised look and a half-smile. The man says something, and her smile warms even more. When he makes a motion toward the empty chair opposite her, she nods, indicating he can take a seat.
I shake my head, trying to clear it. What am I seeing? Is it Matthew or a man who resembles him in height and build, who is perhaps meeting a woman on a blind date for coffee? That would make more sense than him finding me on the downtown streets of Phoenix.
Plus, he didn’t look into the store as he strode by. Didn’t glance back down the block to see if I had come out of the store and would follow.
The bells of Clarke’s front door jingle, and she steps out. “Mollie… is everything okay?”
I peer over my shoulder at her, then back to the man who has now said something to make the woman laugh.
No, that’s not Matthew. It’s my anxiety playing tricks on my mind.
Turning, I give Clarke a nervous smile. “I’m fine. Let’s go back inside.”
“Do you know that man?” she asks, eyes glued to where I’d been staring.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I mean, I thought I did, but I don’t think it’s him.”
“Want me to walk down there with you for a closer look?” she asks, throwing her thumb over her shoulder to the door of her store. “I can close up.”
“No,” I exclaim, shaking my head. “No, it’s fine. I’m being silly. No way it’s him, so let’s go back inside.”
Clarke seems dubious, but she opens the door and motions me in. We return to the chairs, and she pours us more tea.
She levels me with a worried frown. “Who did you think it was?”
When I take the teacup she offers, I’m thankful my hands aren’t shaking. I’ve convinced myself
it’s not him. “A former boyfriend. Well, it wasn’t serious or anything, but I broke it off when he got controlling. He has been stalking me. Actually, he found me in North Carolina the week before last and well… he attacked me. He didn’t do anything—Samson chased him off—but there’s a warrant out for his arrest.”
“Oh my God,” Clarke exclaims, sitting forward and spilling the tea on her lap. She grabs a napkin and dabs at it, but demands, “And you think it was him?”
“No,” I decide with a firm shake of my head. “No, just my mind playing tricks. No way he could have tracked me here… not right to this street while I’m in your store.”
“Except,” she prompts, obviously hearing a bit of doubt in my voice.
“Except…” I say on a deep inhale of breath. “He found me before. Had installed a tracking app on my phone, unbeknownst to me. But that’s been wiped by the police forensics team. There’s just no way…”
My voice trails off as I think about my worst fears.
“Except…” Clarke prompts again.
I move my gaze from my teacup to her. “Except… he knows about Kane. Knows he’s my best friend. May have taken an educated guess that I’d come here. I suppose with a bit of money and determination, he could have located where Kane lives. What if he’s been watching Kane’s place and knows I’m here? What if it was him?”
“Let’s go,” Clarke says. Once again, she stands from the chair and sets her teacup down. “Let’s go down there and see for sure.”
“Really?” I ask, rising. It’s a good idea, actually, and there’s strength in numbers. He can’t hurt me on a public street in view of other people.
“Want me to grab my mace?” she asks with a sly grin.
I laugh, shaking my head. “I think you and I can take him in broad daylight. Let’s do it.”
Clarke grabs her keys, then we leave the shop. She flips the “open” sign to “closed” on the front door. I wait for her to lock up, then we start off in the same direction as the man. My gaze goes to the table he’d been at earlier, but he’s gone.
The woman is still there, but he is not.
I peer farther down the street but see no sign of him. “He’s gone.”
Clarke glances down the opposite way, and I do the same.
“Huh,” I mutter.
“Come on,” Clarke says, grabbing my arm and heading down the street.
“Where are we going?” I ask, jogging to keep up with her brisk pace.
“We’re going to go ask that woman who he was.”
“Brilliant,” I murmur, and we hurry down the block. We have to wait for the cross traffic, then sprint across the pedestrian lane. When we approach the woman at her table, I feel foolish for what I’m about to do. She looks up with a hesitant smile as we stop beside her. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she replies, tipping her head curiously.
“Um… there was a man at your table a few moments ago. I thought I recognized him, but now he’s gone. I was wondering if it was Matthew Brighton?”
The girl laughs, shaking her head. “I have no clue,” she admits. “He just came up, mentioned my Apple computer, and said he was thinking of buying one. Wanted to know if he could ask me a few questions.”
I side-eye Clarke, whose expression says she finds this very strange.
“He asked a few questions, then left,” she says. “It was so weird. I thought he was hitting on me, which I didn’t mind because he was cute and all, but then he just abruptly took off.”
Christ. It probably was Matthew. He must have realized I saw him. Maybe even caught me coming out of the store before we could make eye contact. Sat at her table to throw me off.
“Okay, thanks,” I say. Clarke and I head back toward her store in silence while I mull over what this means. I can’t help looking over my shoulder a dozen times before we reach her place and go back in.
It’s slightly alarming that when she shuts the door, she locks it and keeps the “closed” sign flipped.
“It was him,” Clarke says. “That’s what you’re thinking.”
“I can’t help it, but maybe I’m just paranoid.”
“Better safe than sorry,” she replies. “You need to call Kane right now. You can’t go back to his place by yourself.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I mutter. “It could have very well been a man who was interested in Apple computers for all we know. I didn’t even get a good look.”
“But it could be him,” she presses, looking down at my hands sympathetically. “Your hands are shaking. Let’s have something a bit stronger than tea.”
Clarke moves behind her counter, pulling out a bottle of bourbon along with two small plastic cups. She pours us each a stiff amount, then slides one over to me.
In the end, after two shots, she convinces me to call Kane, who is at the arena in the middle of a practice session. I leave him a voice mail, but Clarke refuses to let me go back to his place alone. I won’t let her close up her shop to take me, so I end up staying to help her out. When she opens her store back up, I jump a little every time the door opens.
But whether the man was Matthew or not, he never comes back by.
By the time Kane returns my call, I’ve convinced myself I’m being paranoid. Still, he makes me stay with Clarke until he can pick me up.
CHAPTER 12
Kane
I have to park several blocks down from Coach Perron’s house because we’re late to the party. It’s a season kick-off party with a huge barbeque, live music, and free-flowing beer and liquor. A chance for us to let our hair down before the season starts next week, so the new players and their families have an opportunity to meet the veterans and theirs.
We’re late because Mollie and I spent over an hour at my place arguing about my concerns over her safety. It’s not like we haven’t bickered before, because we have. Best friends have disagreements, and we’ve had our share over the years. But now there’s an added element at play with me, and that’s namely a ridiculously deep feeling of proprietary concern for her safety and well-being I can’t seem to get control of, and Mollie can’t seem to accept.
I had picked her up at Clarke’s store after getting the disconcerting news she might have seen Matthew. Of course, by the time I’d made it over there after a full day of training camp and meetings, she’d talked herself out of believing she’d actually seen him.
Clarke was no help. She wasn’t sure one way or the other.
The minute we set foot back in my apartment late this afternoon, I had told her in no uncertain terms that she was not to leave this place without someone with her.
She immediately told me I was ridiculous, and she would not abide by that edict or any other I tried to lay down.
Which, of course, started the heated fight.
It involved yelling, pleading, one painful jab of her index finger into my chest as she was making a point, and then me grabbing her face to yell at her, but I ended up kissing her instead.
That led to angry sex on the kitchen floor with Samson lying at the edge watching us, which was way weird, but I did my best to ignore him.
We then had to get ready for the party, which I had previously been excited about. It involved separate showers and awkward silence as we left the apartment, then down the elevator to the garage. I was on hyper-alert, expecting Matthew to jump out at any moment.
“Are we just going to ignore each other all night?” Mollie grouses as I put the car in park and shut it off.
“I don’t know,” I answer slyly, shifting in my seat to smirk at her. “Willing to admit I’m right and you’re in danger?”
The mere fact Mollie snickers rather than glares tells me she’s mostly over her pique. But we still don’t have any resolution.
With a sigh, she shifts in her seat to face me. “I don’t know what I saw, Kane. There’s a good chance it was my imagination.”
“Equally good chance it was Matthew, too,” I reply.
“I can’t be a prisoner in
your apartment,” she retorts. “I won’t do it. If that’s the way it’s going to be, then I’ll go home to my parents.”
“They’ll keep you prisoner, too, and you know it.”
Her expression tells me she knows I’m right. They’ll be super overprotective.
“I can’t live in hiding or fear.” She strives for a calm tone, but I can hear a level of hysteria under it. “Let’s figure out a way for me to be as safe as possible, but it can’t involve being locked up.”
Now it’s my turn to sigh. She’s right. That’s the easy answer that will keep me from worrying when I’m away, but it’s not the right one.
Reaching across the seat, I cup the nape of her neck and pull her toward me. “I know. We’ll figure something out, I promise.”
I touch my mouth to hers, a soft kiss to pledge I won’t be overly high-handed with her.
At least, I hope I won’t. This new relationship we’re in has stirred up so many confusing feelings, that I’m bound to fuck something up. The best I can hope for is that Mollie will be quick to forgive or, at least, slap me upside my head to make me a bit more rational.
“Come on,” I say, releasing my hold on her. “Let’s go have a fun night with the team. I have so many people to introduce you to.”
♦
The party is in full swing, and my belly is full. I had spent the first part of the evening introducing Mollie to my teammates and their families. Word had gotten around about who and what she was to me—best friends to lovers—so it had made conversations reasonably easy. None of the obnoxious questions of how and when we met, or how I had progressed so quickly over the summer from confirmed bachelor to kept man.
We enjoyed ribs, potato salad, corn on the cob, and apple pie. I purposely kept my alcohol ingestion to two beers total, not only so I could drive home, but also so I could be alert in case there’s some threat to Mollie out there. Who knows, maybe she did or didn’t see Matthew, but the truth of the matter is that it stands to reason he could decide to come after her. Maybe Samson scared him away for good, or perhaps he’s doubly pissed off and wants to hurt her worse now. Regardless, until he’s captured, I’m going to keep a clear head.
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