My colleague Iris has landed a big deal and we give her a round of applause. My phone beeps and a cold sweat prickles across the back of my neck.
Unknown number: I thought you’d want to meet me in a public place. I’ll be at Friar’s bar. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be there in an hour. You know what to bring with you.
I stand up and grab my bag. “Sorry, I have to go.”
Deb looks concerned. “Is everything okay, dear?”
“I hope so. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” I don’t want them to ask me any more questions, so I leave quickly.
Once I’m outside, I walk as fast as I can through the town streets back to my house. Should I tell Mom and Mila? Or can I deal with this myself and not involve them?
Usually, on a day like today. I’d be ambling along after work, enjoying the soft evening breeze. Instead, the sense of cold dread overwhelms me. I stop to let a dark red car with tinted windows pass before I cross the road to my house.
Grabbing the pistol from my drawer, I wrap it in some brown paper, and put it in my bag. I leave the house, walking in the direction of the bar. As I walk, the dread starts to turn to anger, and that’s dangerous. My stepfather doesn’t respond well to anger.
I stop, bend over, and take a couple of deep breaths. I can’t seem to get enough air in my lungs and I lean against a wall, my head spinning.
“Are you okay?” The voice is deep and familiar.
I stare at the ground, unable to speak for a minute. I nod without looking up.
A fluffy white dog sniffs my feet. Mom calls the breed ‘froufrou’ dogs. He puts his paws on my shoes, as if he’s trying to balance on them. Then he arches his back and throws back his head, like he’s posing at the end of a runway. It’s so cute and ridiculous that it makes me laugh, a little hysterically.
I reach down, stroking his soft fur, and then straighten up. I wobble a little, and Taylan reaches out to steady me. His big hands hold my shoulders firmly and a thrill runs down to my core. I’m unsteady all over again but in a completely different way. My heart speeds up, thumping in my ears.
Those deep brown eyes have a golden tinge in the sunlight and his sculpted jaw is cloaked with stubble today. He’swaytoo handsome. It’s distracting.
“I’m feeling a little weird…” I’m still wobbly and it’s making me honest.
“Anything I can help with? Or Poupon?” He points at the dog.
“Poupon?” I’m speechless. I didn’t think a guy like him would have a frou-frou pooch with an equally frilly name.
“My aunt’s dog. I think it means mustard.”
I shake my head. “I think it actually means ‘little baby’. I studied French for a couple of years. You’re thinking of the brand of mustard with the same name.”
“Oh, that makes more sense. Seriously though, Ava. Let me help. You don’t seem okay.”
“I barely know you, Taylan.” His hands are still on my shoulders, but I don’t want him to take them away. That warm, steady buzz of his touch is wonderful.
“What would you like to know? Come and sit over here.” He leads me to a bench next to the fountain in the town square. The water, cascading from the mouth of a fierce-looking grizzly bear, sparkles in the early evening sun.
“I know you’re a firefighter. And you like fantasy books. That’s it. Oh, and you’re pup sitting a very handsome dog.” Poupon leaps into my lap and curls into a ball. Only then does Taylan take his hands away.
“I warn you, he’s going to start snoring in a minute. Yes, I’m a firefighter. I look after the computer systems at the firehouse. My brother Dean works there too, he’s the EMT. I’m Snowflakeborn and raised; my family are all here. I have ten cousins and I can’t walk down the street without bumping into another Montag.”
“Are you not the sociable type?”
“I like my own company. I’m choosy about who I buddy up with.” He shrugs. “Now, tell me what’s made you nearly faint back there.”
I sit up straight. “I didnotfaint.”
He shakes his head, giving me that lopsided grin again. “Looked like it to me. Poupon and I thought we might have to carry you to the hospital.”
I smile. “The idea of Poupon lifting anything is hysterical. He must not weigh more than a bag of sugar. Is that a dragon tattoo on your arm?”
“Yes. You’re changing the subject again, Ava.”
