“You didn’t send me flowers?” Cara’s brows drew down.
“I just said that. Who sent you flowers? I thought you said you weren’t dating.”
“I’m not. That’s what’s so weird. They are two huge, expensive arrangements of red roses. You don’t think Erik—”
Amara burst out laughing. “Erik never sent you roses when you were together. Trust me, the way he feels about you now, it’s definitely not him. Why don’t you call the florist?”
“I don’t even know that much.”
“Huh. I’m sure whoever it is will let you know. They are going to want credit.”
“Good point! What are you doing tonight?”
“We’re going to some club in Midtown.” She hesitated. “Do you want to come?”
“No, thanks,” Cara responded dryly. “Even if I wanted to spend time around Erik, I have an early call tomorrow. Call me before you leave town, okay?”
“Cara, we’re all good, right?”
Things would never be exactly the same between them again. Too much had changed, but she still cared about Amara and wanted her in her life.
“All good. Have fun, be safe.”
Before going to bed, Cara changed the water and allowed herself to take pleasure in the gift. Amara was right. Whoever sent her the flowers would reveal themselves. There was no logical reason for her to be so paranoid about them. Cara set the alarm clock for her early call but just as she began to drift off, she remembered the unsigned Valentine’s card and the gift card inside. She typed out a rapid text to Anne, apologizing for the late thank you, and then pulled her covers up.
The first phone calls began three hours later.
Roused out of dead sleep, Cara fumbled for the phone, her “hello” groggy, but no one spoke, and she hung up. The next call came two hours later. Cara could tell someone was on the line because she heard rustling and quiet breathing.
“Stop calling me!” she hissed before ending the call. When the phone rang for a third time, Cara silenced it and powered her phone off.
Please don’t let this be happening again!
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
Wes was tryingto decide if he should go into Cara’s room to wake her up. He was up earlier than usual, after a far too graphic dream about his roommate, and he heard her hit snooze three times on her 5:30 alarm.
However, Wes knew Cara slept in one of those cute, little tank top and shorts combos, and after what happened between them, he didn’t trust his control if he saw her like that—warm and tousled in her bed. On the other hand, Wes could just open the door and yell something. Cara would love that. He smirked, imagining her outrage.
The decision was taken out of his hands when he heard the sound of her shower come on. She must have been quick because less than five minutes later Cara was opening her bedroom door, her wet hair up in a bun, as she rushed to the coffeepot and filled her travel mug.
“You are a lifesaver.” She looked at the liquid with such longing his body twitched.
He made a humming noise. “I’ve heard that before. What are you looking for?”
Cara was frantically patting her pockets and scanning all the surfaces she could see. “Dang it! I have a seven o’clock call and traffic is going to be a nightmare.” She began pawing through her purse. “Where is my phone?”
Wes watched her with amusement. “Do you want me to call it?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Cara started to smile at him. He saw the moment she remembered, and her gaze skittered away. She planted her hands on her hips and squinted as if it would help her hear her ringtone. Wes laughed. She had no idea how ridiculously cute she looked.
“Shhhh! I’m trying to listen.”
Wes pulled the phone away from his ear. “I got your voice mail. Could your battery be dead?”
Cara’s face cleared. “That’s right!” She disappeared into her bedroom and reemerged, wiggling her phone. “It had fallen under the bed. I forgot I shut it off after the calls.”
“What calls?”
