Alfredo breaks my thoughts, letting me know my car is out front. I didn’t drive myself today, but I’m starting to wish I had. That way I can keep Arloe a secret. Having a driver taking us places means there’s a chance one of them can spill my whereabouts to my father. If he knows just how deep my intentions go for this woman, he’ll ruin things as he always does.
Just as I’m about to exit my childhood home, Jude’s voice rings out in the distance.
“E.” He’s at the top of the stairs. “Dad needs us to handle something.” Jude turns away before I can respond.
A wave of disappointment washes over me, but I quickly push the notion out of my head. I stuff her number and my phone into my pocket, straighten my posture, and join my brother in my father’s office once more.
Chapter Five
Arloe
“I’m going to lunch,” Greer says and snatches her purse from underneath the register. “You sure you don’t want me to bring you anything? I’m checking out that new salad shop down the street.”
I look up from what I’m doing. “Uh. Yes,” I accept her offer with my fingers outstretched as I fumble around to gather my thoughts. “If they have it, can you order me the Southwest Asian?” Remembering my clutch, I lean down to pull a twenty from my wallet. “If not, a Caesar salad works.”
Greer retreats and takes the money from me. “You got it,” she adds on her way out the door.
“Oh, and Greer.” She pauses. “A peach tea, too, please.”
She nods and before I know it she’s gone, making her way in the direction of Easton’s jewelry shop. The thought of him rips through me, and stand up straight. It’s been three days since he waltzed into my store making demands of me. Disrupting my flow and creeping into my mind.
And he stayed there, the memory of him, the scent of his cologne, the closeness. It’s all trapped in my mind, festering and teasing me. The day went on, yet I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Istillcan’t stop thinking about him. Even when Tatum asked me out, all I could think about is Easton.
I don’t know if it’s curiosity, fear, or pure infatuation. I should be happy he never showed up. Because that’s crazy, isn’t it? He threatened to kill me—or let his brother do the job, rather. He’s the bad guy, one of the ones I read about. The type of man I know I should steer clear of.
The door chimes, and I shake my head to clear my mind. Easton is a plague, and he’ll ruin me if I let him. The part that scares me the most is how badly I think I want that.
“Welcome to Ever After Books,” I say, feigning excitement, when really I’m a jumbled mess.
I make eye contact with the customer. He’s young, barely appears to be in his early twenties. His hair is a mess, and he’s carrying a box. I frown when he steps toward me, an awkward smile on his face. He’s nervous, and that sends the same emotion running through me.
“Are you Arloe?” he asks, his voice cracked and meek.
I swallow, unsure if I should be honest or lie and send him on his way. “Yes…what can I do for you?”
The boy shoves the box in my direction, nodding aggressively for me to accept it. Annoyance paints his face when I don’t do as he wishes.
“Listen, lady, some guy paid me a hundred bucks to bring this to you. So would you take the damn box?”
I flinch at his tone, reluctantly allowing him to place it in my arms. “What is it?” I glance down at the box, my face twisted so badly I feel the wrinkles forming.
“I didn’t ask,” he snaps while holding out a bag that I hadn’t noticed he was carrying, then storms out of the door.
I watch in total confusion as he shifts from side to side before finally rushing across the street, seemingly unfazed that he’s almost hit by a car. The driver is fussing with him, but I tune the scene out and point my gaze to the item in my hand.
It’s a soft, black velvet casing with a logo etched into the top. It’s heavy in my grasp, and from the feel of it, expensive. I set it down on the counter and run my hands along the edges, trying to determine how to open it. I get my answer when I locate the Velcro flap at the tail end of it.
I let go of it, opening and closing my hands into fists while fighting with my curiosity. The boy’s words play in my mind, so I know that whatever it is, is from Easton. No one else will pay a kid one hundred dollars to drop a box off and jet. Not when the shipping services are so much cheaper. And not when he could just walk down here himself.
Suddenly my mouth goes dry in anticipation. Sweat slicks my skin, and all the sound around me fades into the distance. My mind races flooded with guesses of what is inside and why he sent it.
Recalling back to that night, seeing how badly he and his brother had beaten that man, I think the worst. What if it’s a leg or an arm? Some fucked-up psychological message to remind me to keep my mouth closed?
No, that can’t be it.
He seems smug and as if he has money to blow, but no idiot would send bloody body parts in expensive velvet boxes.
Looking it over once more, I find the courage I need to get it over with. Otherwise, I’ll be taunted by its presence. But I bet that’s what he wants. To get in my head, teach me that while he may have let me go that night, he’s only a few shops away.
