“Keep it together,’’ I mutter to myself. He stands up straight and looks over at me. His brow is lifted.
“Need something,” he asks. I can’t tell if he is amused or if he is annoyed. I don’t know him well enough to be able to tell the difference. I shake my head.
“No, I’m just going to hang up my jacket,” I state. Trying to think of way to get out of the small kitchen. His tall muscular body takes up a lot of space, and I’m not sure what to do with myself. He grunts and goes back to the tools in his bag.
I’m just shutting the closet door, when I hear him swear loudly. Thinking he might have hurt himself, I run out to the kitchen.
“What happened? Is everything okay,” I ask slightly panicked. My gaze drops to his hands. He is holding a familiar sheet of paper. One that I worried over for most of the day today.
“I don’t know— you tell me,” he grounds out. “When were you going to tell me about this,” he asks as he waves the notearound. I realize my mouth is hanging open and it snaps shut. I open it again quickly to respond. My irritation rising.
“I-I, look, I don’t know who the hell you think you are,” I sputter. I’m flustered and part of me is swooning at the over protective vibe I am getting off of him. It is warring with the feminist in me.
“I found it today, when I walked into my office,” I start to explain, though I’m not sure why. “And what would I have said to you? Hey, check out this random and unoriginal note that was left for me by some anonymous person,” I say exasperatedly.
“Well, that would have been better than nothing,” he states. I expect him to be more frustrated, but he is eerily calm. “The note fell out of your backpack when you left Doe’s. I was going to give it back to you tonight,” he explains.
I nod looking at his glittering blue-grey eyes. I’m not sure what to say. He is serious. I guess the proper term would be calculated. He looks like he is weighing his words as he runs a large hand through his hair.
“Did anything else unusual happen today,” he prods. His muscles stretching and bunching as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against my counter.
I am wondering if I should just own up to the e-mail too. I mean, I don’t know why this guy feels like he is my keeper and he isn’t winning any awards for politeness, but I trust him. It is odd, because I am not usually someone that brings new people into the fold.
“Okay, fine, I got a strange e-mail today too,” I reluctantly admit. He waits for me to expand. “I’ll show you,” I mutter as I turn back to my bedroom to grab my computer.
“The address isn’t one I recognize, but that isn’t unusual in my line of work. A lot of people seek me out to assist with marketing and communications for their small businesses,” I explain as I stand there and type in my password.
I’m holding my laptop with one hand and typing to log in with the other when he comes up behind me. I can feel his heat as he towers over me and I inhale sharply. It is ridiculous.Why does he have to smell so good too?
Trying to focus, I pull up my e-mail and he stays silent. I had it memorized but figured he would want to see it anyway. I could feel him tense behind me.
Did you get my note? I meant it. Too bad about your truck.
“Son of a bitch,” he bites out. Gently, he takes the computer out of my hands and sets it on the counter. “Anything else I need to know about,” he questions.
“This has to be some kind of mistake,” I blurt out and run my hands through my hair. I feel another migraine trying to come through. I take a deep breath. “This has to be a case of mistaken identity or something, I’m not exactly the type to have a stalker.”
He turns around and looks at me with a grimace. Before I know it he is whipping his phone out and speed dialing someone. “Holt, are you almost wrapped up there,” he questions. He nods his head.
“Great, can you head my way when you are done? And pick up a couple of pizzas will you,” he hangs up without saying goodbye.
“Who is Holt, and why is he coming here,” I ask him.Another stranger?I must be breaking some kind of personal record.
“Holt is my brother, he owns and runs a private security company— he has resources that we can use.”
I look at him and quirk a brow. I want to refuse, but it’s not like I have a private investigator or a security firm atmydisposal. Maybe we can clear this mess up quickly and move onwith our lives. I’m sure it is a huge misunderstanding. When I say as much, he snorts.
“Yeah, a misunderstanding— who else drives a vehicle like yours and works above Doe’s? It seems like they know you pretty well. You may not know them— but they know you,” he stated matter of factly. The simple way he put it, brings this situation into full focus.
It’s almost like he can sense my panic rising. “Don’t worry, we will handle it,” he says shortly. The man doesn’t speak a lot, but what he does say he means. I nod my head and go to take my laptop. He puts a hand on my arm and I still. It’s such a cliche, but I feel that touch everywhere and it makes me pause. I look up at him and freeze. A second feels like a minute. He jerks his hand back.
“I’m going to have Holt take a look at the e-mail. He has a guy that may be able to trace where it came from. You can use it, just don’t delete anything,” he explains. I swallow and nod. Trying not to focus on the fact that he is obviously unaffected by my presence.
My brain is racing. Logically, I know he has a point. I mean, I don’t normally believe in coincidences, and there have been too many not to be paying attention. I grab my computer and retreat to the living room. Needing some space.
Chapter 12
Sterling
