Switching gears, I go to my online bank where I move my money to check the balance. Surely he hasn’t got to that, too. It’s under another fake name. When I see the same balance that was in there yesterday, the breath that I was about to choke on rushes from my lungs, and I sit back, willing my hands to stop shaking.
The feeling of being violated is so strong that I want to cry.
Not wanting to take any chances, I rush to the closest Western Union and withdraw the balance in cash. I’ll need to spend the rest of the day setting up a whole new online presence under different names. It’s not like I have any work to do.
Damn it!
When I drag myself into the pub that evening, I’m so tired and paranoid that I barely fixed my hair and I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. Even the casual ‘hellos’ from the shop owners who have got used to seeing me walk to work every day weren’t enough to lift my spirits.
I was so focused on fixing my online life today that when I walk into the pub, the smell of food makes my stomach growl, and I realize I haven’t eaten.
“Damn, girl! Are you okay?” Sammy says when I walk into the locker room to put my purse up.
My eyes snap to hers, and I turn to look at myself in the full-length mirror on the wall by the door. I look like shit. Putting on a fake smile, I do the only thing I can think of; I lie. “I’ve had a headache all day, I’ll be fine.” It’s not a total lie; trying to build a life again is a colossal headache.
She steps close and lifts her palm to my forehead. The gesture is so caring and maternal that I almost tear up. “You don’t have a fever. Are you sure? I could probably cover your shift if you need me to.”
Remembering Stony telling me not to come back if I call out sick, I shake my head. “No, you don’t have to do that. I took some ibuprofen, it should start helping any minute.”
Her hand moves to my arm, and she gives a soft squeeze. “Okay, but if you get worse, let me know and I’ll tell Stony I’ll take your tables.”
“Okay, thanks, Sammy.”
Because I feel so defeated, the evening drags on, and I just want to get back to my room and lock the door. Not to mention,Tuck didn’t show up. I watched the door for most of the evening until I realized he wasn’t coming.
I keep telling myself it’s for the best; my life is screwed up enough without pulling another person into it. But that doesn’t stop the ache in my chest, especially after that kiss last night. I’m being stupid; a kiss means nothing, and I need to focus on other things, anyway.
Around eleven, Stony calls me up to the bar. “Sammy says you’re sick, and you don’t look like you feel well. Go home.”
I shake my head. “It’s okay, I can finish my shift.”
He stops what he is doing and locks eyes with me, his usual no-nonsense stare is softer. “I didn’t ask if you could finish your shift. Go home and get some rest. I’ll give you your share of tonight’s tips tomorrow night.” I almost smile because I realize he’s sending me home because he cares.
On the walk back to the inn, every little movement grabs my attention, and I’m scared to death that someone is going to jump out of a shadow. But once I’m in my room, I slide down the door and let myself cry.
My payment system is that I get half the payment up front and the rest after I finish the edit, so everything outstanding was just lost. It comes out to almost two thousand. I needed that money. Not to mention I’ve lost the few repeat authors I had.
Changing into my sleep shorts and a t-shirt, I curl up on my bed and spend the next hour feeling sorry for myself.
A soft knock on the door nearly sends me into another panic, and I lie as still as possible. Another soft knock and then, “Nora?” It’s Allison’s voice, and she’s practically whispering, probably not wanting to wake up the other guests.
Grabbing a tissue to blow my nose, I open the door enough to see she’s in her pajamas, and she doesn’t look happy. Lifting my eyebrows in surprise, I look into the hall behind her to make sure she’s alone. I whisper back, “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry to wake you up, but Tucker Harlow is on the front porch and he says he won’t leave until he sees you’re okay.” She huffs an exasperated breath like she’s been arguing with him. “Will you go down and tell him I don’t appreciate him almost waking my guests up? Or me.”
Looking at her in confusion, I whisper, “Sure, but why does he want to make sure I’m okay?”
She shakes her head and waves her hand in the air exasperated before she whispers back, “He says Stony sent you home sick.”
He’s checking on me?
Despite it being midnight and Allison being unhappy with the situation, the coldness of all the worry I’ve been carrying today is replaced with something warm and comfortable.
Clearing my throat, I nod my head as I open the door the rest of the way to step out. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him.”
As I tiptoe down the stairs, I can see his broad back leaning against the porch post at the top of the steps, under the dim porch light, and flutters start warming my stomach. His t-shirt is hugging all the muscles across his back, his lats tapering perfectly into his waist, the sleeves stretched around his triceps.
Like he can feel me staring at him, no, ogling him, he turns around and sees me through the glass of the door. With his usual Clint Eastwood squint, his eyes roam over my face as I step out the door. The long scruff on his face is impeccably cut, and his jaw looks even sharper. His usual baseball hat is on his head, the brim curled over his forehead.
