“Yeah?”
“If you need to talk about this again… I’m here.”
My eyes burn with gratitude. Who else could I talk about this stuff with without getting my bodyguard arrested and myself killed by a deranged stalker?
“Thanks, Barb,” I say, my voice hoarse.
“Anytime,” she says softly. “Now go put your game face on.”
I hang up with a snort and finally step into the shower—after shoving the offending purple panties deep into the laundry basket. A quick rinse later, I turn it off and step out into the steamy quiet, my mind buzzing.
When I open the bathroom door, wrapped in my fuzzy pink robe, the smell of breakfast greets me. Eggs. Toast. Coffee. A luxury I’ve quickly gotten used to.
Caleb’s voice drifts down the hall, calm and familiar. “Morning, Basia. You sleep okay?”
I close my eyes and think of the way my dream man made me feel. About how Caleb makes me feel.
A shiver runs down my spine. When I open my eyes, I have a plan in place.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile as I step into the light. “Like a rock.”
11
CALEB
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask Basia as I walk her to her desk.
With the stalker escalating further, I managed to negotiate checking out her workspace before leaving her for the day.
Compromise, Basia called it.
Not enough, I said.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she asks with a smile. “I have a stalker sending me someone’s body parts. Everything is peachy.”
I grunt. “You’re right. I’m an asshole.”
What sane woman would feel alright in this situation? I’m just being paranoid… I thought that maybe she remembers something she shouldn’t from last night. But if she did, I doubt she’d smile at me like this. She’d probably have Teddy cuff me as soon as we got into the lobby.
Instead, she greeted him with a smile that made me want to pop his head like a pimple. She even has Matty charmed, the woman waiting until we left to end her shift, just so she can say good morning tomyclient.
“You’re not an asshole,” Basia murmurs now, setting her bag down on her desk and shrugging off her coat. “Just a guy.”
I tilt my head. “Thanks… I guess?”
“Basia!” one of her coworkers says, coming to stand by my side and peering at me curiously. I know him from my research into her work life—his name is Greg, and he looks like a douchebag. “You brought a friend to work today?”
Yep—definitely douchebag vibes. Basia’s eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
“Uh, yeah. This is Caleb. He’s my?—”
“Boyfriend,” I interject smoothly, before extending my hand out. “Nice to meet you.”
Greg blinks at me, then my hand, and finally gingerly grabs it. Handshake like a dead fish—figures. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Barton.”
The look in Basia’s eyes says that she didn’t know she had one either, but she just laughs nervously. “Surprise.”
Why did I say I’m her boyfriend and not, for example, an older cousin from the boonies visiting the big city? It’s not the first time I’ve pretended to be a client’s significant other. But it’s the first time I wished it were true.
