by Destiny Ford
I woke sometime around dawn to the sound of something falling in the kitchen. I sat straight up and noticed a light on in my kitchen. I never left lights on. And if this was a robber, he needed better burglar training. What kind of thief shows up to rob someone without a flashlight? This was the second time in the last few months someone had broken into my house. I really needed to get an alarm system. Drake had threatened one, but there’d been a massive argument about him overstepping boundaries and he hadn’t followed through. Now I kind of wished he had.
I scanned the room for a weapon. The best things I had, and the heaviest, were the remote controls for my ceiling fan and phone docking station. I grabbed them, and crept through the living room to the doorway of the kitchen. I peeked around the door jam, and saw a large silhouette of a man, back toward me. I hurled my remote at him, aiming for his head. I missed.
“Ouch!” he said, rubbing the middle of his back and turning around. His eyes ran over me, taking in my short shorts and barely-there cami. I wrapped my arms around myself, and made a mental note that next time I thought there was an intruder in my house, I should put some clothes on before investigating.
“Drake? What the hell?” He was still holding the knife—and using it to spread jam on his croissant.
“I brought you breakfast,” he said, gesturing to the bag of food on the counter.
“And broke into my house?”
“I didn’t break in,” he said, taking a bite of his buttery roll. “I knocked, but you didn’t hear me, so I used your hide-a-key.”
“Hey!” I said, my tone full of outrage. “How did you know where my key was?” I’d spent a very long time in the hide-a-key aisle of the home improvement store where a teenager had assured me no one would ever find my secret rock. Then I’d spent a lot of time finding the most inconspicuous place for it in the flower garden under my front window.
“It’s the only rock in your whole flower bed,” Drake explained. “It kind of stands out.”
I wrinkled my nose, and made a commitment to go rock hunting and add to my collection as soon as possible.
“I’ll fix that,” I said, rubbing my eyes and trying to wake up. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear you knock.” I’d been pretty exhausted the night before, but it didn’t say much for my Scooby Senses that I’d slept through an intruder—especially one the size of Drake. A clumsy wallaby would have been less noticeable than him.
“Me either. I saw your car in the driveway, so I knew you were home. After I knocked three times and you didn’t answer, I thought something might be wrong. I wouldn’t have used the key otherwise.”
I cocked a brow. “Good to know you have limits.”
“Occasionally,” he said with a smile. He held out a bag for me and I took a croissant.
I stole a glance at him as I cut the croissant in half, and spread some sweet strawberry jam on it. He was in jeans and a tight, dark blue t-shirt that highlighted his gorgeous sapphire eyes. He looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower, and smelled like the mountains in summer. I mentally shook myself out of the do-Drake trance. Yeah, he was tall, dark, and looked like great sex, but I couldn’t let those little things distract me. He was also arrogant, pretentious, and all alpha male. I wasn’t a good match for men like that. The sex was great, but we’d spend the rest of our lives fighting.
“Why the visit to my house?” I asked, taking a bite of my food. In my heightened adrenaline-induced state, I’d briefly forgotten about the lingerie humiliation with Drake that I couldn’t recall. I remembered the whole situation now, though, and wasn’t pleased. Although he had sent me flowers. I tilted my head to one side in concession; point to Drake. Then I thought about it a little more and frowned. Flowers that indicated I might have done something wildly inappropriate and he still hadn’t told me what that was. Point revoked. “You certainly didn’t stay yesterday morning.”
“I wasn’t here that long,” he said. “I left after I knew you’d fallen asleep.”
My eyes widened and I seriously considering shoving the croissant right up his— I stopped, trying to regain some control. I put the knife down so the potential weapon would be harder to reach. “How thoughtful of you to sneak out after taking advantage of me. If this is how you treat all women, no wonder you have the reputation you do.”
His brows pushed together and he looked completely confused. “How did I take advantage of you?”
I grunted at his stupidity. “Are you kidding me? I woke up in my sexiest lingerie, wearing my silk robe. Are you telling me you didn’t take advantage of me?” If he hadn’t, I was a little insulted. And yes, I realized that was a contradiction. I would have been upset either way things had gone down. Sometimes I felt bad for the men in my life.
He studied me, realization slowly coming over his face. “You don’t remember what happened.” It was a statement, not a question.
I pursed my lips, unhappy about the entire situation. “No. I don’t.”
He grinned.
I wanted to punch him.
Right in his perfect stomach.
He took a drink from his glass of orange juice, and then took a bite of his food, savoring every moment. Now I wanted to punch him in the stomach and the balls.
“So,” I said, my voice impatient.
“So what?” he asked with an innocent lift of his lips.
I was completely exasperated now. I was a reporter who investigated things and got facts. There was one person in the world who could fill in my memory holes, and he was being a douche canoe about the details. “What the hell happened?”
Drake grinned and tilted his head in what I hoped was an acknowledgment that he was done torturing me. “After the party at Annie and Rich’s house, I went home. About an hour later, you called me.”
“No.” I shook my head fervently. “I didn’t.”
“Yes. You did.”
“I checked my cell when I got up. I didn’t call, text, or even Facebook anyone.”
“You’re on Facebook?” He looked wounded. “Why aren’t we friends?”
I pointed at him with my croissant. “Stop trying to change the subject.”
“You didn’t call me from your cell number. You called me from your house.”
I made a disbelieving noise. I never used my home phone. I only had it as a backup in case my cell phone wasn’t working, or there was some other emergency and I had no other way to make a call. My mom insisted on it in case an electromagnetic pulse hit. She’d been watching too many episodes of Doomsday Preppers. She didn’t seem to understand that landlines wouldn’t survive the apocalypse. “Why would I call you from there?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. But you did.”
“What did I say?”
He gave an unapologetic smile. “I don’t dare repeat it, but suffice it to say that an invitation was extended.”
I flushed, sure I’d said something—maybe several things—mortifying. “So I propositioned you, and you came right over?” I frowned and looked down at my plate. “That sounds like the Drake I’ve heard so much about.”
His tone was tight. “I came over because you didn’t sound like yourself. When I got here, you opened the door wearing the robe, started to untie it, and then tried to lure me back to your bedroom.”
I snorted. “I’m sure that took a lot of convincing.” My voice was thick with sarcasm.
“I thought you might be drunk, or high.”
“I wasn’t either.”
“But you don’t remember anything that happened?”
I pressed my lips together again. “I think I might have been drugged or something.”
Drake’s expression was a mixture of anger and concern. “By Annie and Rich?”
I shook my head repeatedly. “No.” I waved him off. That didn’t matter in respect to the current conversation. Getting info about my lost night did. “What happened after I tried to seduce you?”
He poured more orange juice in his glass and took another dri
nk. “You told me the Saints and Sinners Cookies were better than your mom’s.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “No,” I breathed out. “I didn’t.”
“You did.”
I shook my head, eyes huge. “Don’t ever tell her that. Ever. We’ll both lose our lives.”
“Noted.” He took another bite of his food. “Then you almost passed out on the floor. I carried you back to your room, tucked you in, and stayed for a couple of hours to make sure you were okay. Once I knew you were, I locked your doors and left.”
Okay, so it wasn’t as humiliating of a situation as I’d initially thought. Thank the goddesses for that. And he hadn’t seen me in my alluring lace bra and panty set, so that also made it to the win column. The situation was still embarrassing, though. I hadn’t had a night of memory loss since my sophomore year of college. It wasn’t something I’d wanted to repeat then—or now.
“I guess I owe you a thank you.”
He smiled. “No need. I’m happy I was in town, and that I could help.” He changed the subject. “I heard about the hemp oil protest yesterday.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s ridiculous. People don’t even understand what they’re angry about. I’m going to put an explanation of the differences between hemp oil and pot in my article about the protest.”
“I’ve been trying to help John as much as I can.”
“He mentioned that. He said the bill wouldn’t have been passed without you.”
Drake lifted a shoulder like it wasn’t a big deal. “I wasn’t the only one who made it happen. I just wish things were moving faster and they didn’t have to deal with the crazy anti-marijuana groups.”
“The protest was organized by a marketing company called Saffron Star PR. Do you know anything about them?”
Drake furrowed his brow. “I’ve heard of them, but I’m not really familiar with their clients. I can look into it if you want.”
I nodded. “That would really help me out.” The information I’d found about them online included a very sleek and professional website, but little information about their clients or the types of marketing and advertising campaigns they offered.
He sliced his head down once. “Consider it done.”
I smiled at him. I appreciated a man who took charge and paid attention to details. I had no doubt that with Drake’s connections, he’d be able to help me get the information I needed.
Drake leaned back in his chair and watched as I started a pot of coffee. “Do you want some?” I asked, holding up the container.
“No thanks, I have orange juice.”
I arched an eyebrow as I grabbed a clean mug from the dishwasher. “I forgot. You’re not allowed to drink coffee,” I said, pouring milk and creamer in a glass while I waited for the pot to finish brewing.
His lips ticked up. “There are other vices I’d rather break rules for.”
I made a tsking noise. “That’s not helping your reputation.”
“Not much does,” he said, his voice resigned.
I poured my coffee, and ate the rest of my food while Drake watched. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t speak up.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
Drake just stared at me, running a finger over the rim of his glass. Finally he answered, “I want to know what it will take to have a chance with you.”
If it was possible to drown from drinking coffee, I almost did it. I bent over, my chest constricting as I coughed, trying to get air again.
“Are you okay?” Drake asked, standing up and rubbing my back between my shoulder blades. His light touch, concern, and declaration that he was interested in me sent unauthorized warm feelings to several of my body parts. When I regained full lung capacity, I answered back, “I want to know why you want a chance with me?”
He sat back down in the seat across from me. “Because I’ve known you for a long time, Katie.” He met my eyes and held them. “You’re the girl I’ve never been able to forget.”
He’d said that before, but didn’t back it up with any additional info. I rubbed my head, feeling a slight headache coming on—either Drake induced, choking induced, or maybe I was still feeling the aftereffects of whatever had taken my memory. “Drake, you didn’t even know me when we were younger.”
“Yeah. I did.”
“That’s right,” I nodded. “You remember patting me on the head after a football game. Great. Glad I made a lasting impression.”
He shook his head slowly. “That’s not the only thing I remember.”
“What else then? You acknowledged me maybe three times.”
He leaned forward, resting his arms on my table and getting closer to me. My table wasn’t used to arms like his, and my insurance didn’t cover muscles. “I knew you, Katie. And I used to see you around town when I came home from college on breaks. The last time I saw you, you were still in high school. Then you left for college and I was in law school. I knew what you were up to though because your mom was always putting notices about you on the society page of the Tribune. When you graduated, I read your freelance work.”
I stared at him, the word “liar” on the tip of my tongue. I didn’t believe him for one hot second. “You did not.”
“Wanna bet?”
I nodded as I raised my brows. “Yeah, actually, I do. “
“Fine,” he said, his face giving nothing away. “I’ll prove I read your articles if you’ll go out on a real date with me. One that’s not interrupted by another man, a crisis news story, or your mom.”
“The crisis news story and my mom are usually one and the same.”
“Still. No interruptions. That’s the deal.”
“I can’t guarantee that.”
“Were you interrupted on your dates with Hawke?”
I winced, thinking about it. “Frequently.”
Drake’s eyes narrowed at the information. I could tell he wasn’t pleased, but if he didn’t want to know, he shouldn’t have asked. “Fine,” he said finally. “A day you’re not on call then.”
I nodded. I was sure Drake had no idea what he was talking about, so it was easy to agree to his terms. “Fine. What do I get if you don’t prove it?”
He shrugged. “I’ll sell my Hummer.”
My eyes widened. “Seriously?” I hated that thing. It was an environmental terrorist masquerading as a vehicle, and the Big Bird yellow color made it easy for everyone in town to find him when he was at my house.
“Seriously.”
“Deal,” I said, putting out my hand to shake on it.
Drake took it, and his hand lingered as he gave me a slow, smug smile. “What should we start with? The article you did about the homeless teens in Chicago? Or the one about the debt crisis in Greece?”
Shiiiit.
I don’t like losing. And I’d lost. Now I was being forced on a date with a man I had seriously conflicted feelings for—feelings that were just becoming more and more blurred. The fact that he’d really kept track of me and read my work was half flattering, half stalkerish. I still didn’t know what he saw in me, though, or why he was interested. It’s not liked we’d even dated when we were younger. He was far too old for me then. Maybe he’d give me more info on the date.
Drake left after breakfast, and I stewed. I came to the conclusion I needed to take control of something in my life, and went for a run to try to work off my recent cookie and doughnut eating Guinness Book of World Records attempt.
I jogged past the high school, trying to put all of my worries out of my mind and relax. I was able to do that for about ten minutes until my phone buzzed. I took it out and saw that I had a text message from Ella.
Facebook update said Drake was at your house this morning. Everyone thinks he spent the night. Amber said you must have ensorcelled him with your super Satanic ways.
My initial reaction was surprise that anyone in that group—let alone, Amber—knew the definition of ‘ensorcelled’ and had used it in the proper contex
t. My next reaction was anger. My blood was already pumping from my run, but I felt it ratchet up even higher. Maybe I was better off not knowing the things being said about me.
Another notification popped up as I was holding the phone. The familiar little head and half-body with a plus sign indicating I had a Facebook friend request—from Dylan Drake. I took a deep breath and slid the notification to the side. I couldn’t deal with the implications of accepting that right now.
I started walking the rest of the way home to cool down, thinking of Amber Kane’s before and after nose job picture, and how much it would make me feel better if those photos were on the front page of the Tribune. It would be completely unethical, but even the thought of her reaction made me smile like a kid on Christmas morning. I was lost in my nose-reveal daydreams when I heard a familiar voice.
“Hey, Kate! Nice morning.”
I smiled as I looked at Michelle, holding the leashes of two beautiful dogs. “It is. Are these your dogs?”
“Yeah. This is Bono,” she said, pointing to a black and white Border Collie, “and Ringo,” she pointed to the brown and black German Shepherd. Both had tongues hanging out of their mouths as they wagged their tails.
“Can I pet them?” They looked friendly, but I knew it was always smart, and polite, to ask a dog owner first.
“Sure. They’re friendly.”
I reached down, giving both dogs the backs of my hands. When they licked me, I knew I’d been accepted, and ran a hand over their heads, scratching behind their ears.
“Have you given any more thought to adopting?” Michelle asked.
I had, in between everything else that was going on. I really wanted to take Gandalf and have my own little canine wizard, but I just wasn’t sure if my lifestyle would be that great for a dog. “I have, and I want to adopt him, but I’m still thinking about if I can make that commitment. I don’t want him to be unhappy.”
She nodded, understanding. “Well, I’ll let you know if anyone else wants him before I let them adopt him.”
“Thanks,” I said, really meaning it. “It’s a big decision, and I just want to make sure I’d be a good puppy parent.”
