The words landed like a punch.
I went still. "What?"
"Thursday night. Around eight-fifteen." He met my gaze, steady and unflinching. "I was on patrol—Highway 81's part of my regular route. Drove past your building and looked up at the window. Saw you teaching."
My face went hot. "You werewatchingme?"
"Didn't mean to." His jaw tightened. "But yeah. Saw you on that pole in those little shorts, and I nearly crashed my damn cruiser."
My breath caught. The anger flickered, replaced by something hotter and more dangerous.
"So what—you've been following me ever since? Checking up on me?"
"No." He took a step closer, and I fought the urge to back up. Fought the urge to close the distance. "I've been making sure you're safe. There's a difference."
"I don't need—"
"Someone was watching your building Thursday night."
That stopped me cold. "What?"
"Male. Standing in the alley by the dumpster while you walked your students to their cars. Soon as I stepped into the street, he took off. Couldn't catch him." His expression went dark, dangerous. "And Friday morning, I went back. Checked the building."
My pulse thundered in my ears. "You had no right—"
"Your studio door doesn't lock, Lacey. The mechanism's stripped. Anyone can walk right up those stairs and push that door open." His voice dropped. "No security cameras. No motion lights. Main entrance unlocked during your classes. You're vulnerable up there. Your students are vulnerable."
The bathroom window. The shadow watching me change.
"Friday night," I heard myself say. "Someone was at the bathroom window. First floor. I was changing and I heard scraping on the glass. When I looked, there was a man watchingme." My voice shook despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "I screamed and he ran."
Gage went absolutely still. Fury and fear warred across his face. "Did you see him? Get a description?"
"No. He was backlit—just a silhouette. I don't know who it was."
"You call it in?"
I shook my head. "I didn't... I couldn't describe him."
"Could be some vagrant," Gage said. "Or someone with worse intentions. Either way—"
"It could be my ex." The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Boyd. He moved to Dallas two years ago, but he was obsessive when we were together. Showed up at my work constantly, drove by my apartment, needed to know where I was every second." I wrapped my arms around myself against the cold. "What if he came back? What if he found out about the pole fitness and decided I needed him to 'protect' me?"
Gage's expression shifted—understanding, then something harder. "How long were you together?"
"Two years. I lived with him." I hated how small my voice sounded. "He used money to control me. His roof, his rules. When I discovered pole fitness, it was the first thing that was mine. He forbade me to keep going. I went anyway. That's when I finally left."
"Good," Gage said quietly. "Took guts."
I looked away. "Or it could be my father. He knows about the classes—we had a fight about it eight months ago. Haven't spoken since. What if he sent someone to spy on me? To prove his point about the kind of men my business attracts?"
The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, standing in a parking lot at night, alone with a man who'd just admitted to following me home. A man whose protective instincts feltdangerously close to the kind of control I'd fought so hard to escape.
Gage ran a hand over his face. "Look, I already bought security equipment. Deadbolt, wireless camera, motion light. Was planning to install it tomorrow if you'd let me."
My spine went rigid. "Youwhat?"
"I know how that sounds—"
