Knowing my luck, my twenty-two dollars’ worth of pasta has just arrived at the table.
As I try to get my bearings, a sudden, blinding glare casts onto me. My feet pivot to the source, casting from the stainless-steel dumpster.
A shadow in the shape of a young woman is reflected back at me in the warped metal. Wearing pink trousers and a white crop top with a tight top bun, she stands there, amused.
Her eyes watch my every move like a creepy painting. Wherever I go, her eyes follow.
“Nice to finally meet you, Charlotte.”
A wide grin displays on her face that leaves me feeling unsettled, causing my heart to slow down. My imagination goes wild.
This could be an axe murderer, a crazed fan, or perhaps another lackey Chris sent to find Holden because trust has never been his thing.
I slowly turn to look behind me, letting out shallow breaths.
From behind, I catch only a seagull on the sidewalk eating scraps of pasta that had just been thrown out.
“I am a completely sane person,” I say out loud, as the only activity in the parking lot of the restaurant is a plastic grocery bag rolling in the wind like a tumble weed.
“I am not sure normal people say that.”
The low timbre in his voice makes me jump, landing me straight on my ass, which is now bruised and forever embarrassed someone had to witness that.
“Let me help you,” the man’s voice says. I catch a glimpse of his hand extending out to me. When I blink, the details of his face are clearer.
“You’re here,” I say, way too eager.
“Yes, I am still here. Miss me already?”
Holden Strauss, the man I’ve been trying to find, is towering over me as I lie helplessly on the ground.
I shield my eyes from sunlight as I finally push off the cement, avoiding his hand. Only to notice black residue lingering on my new beige linen pants.
Great.
His eyes are watching me. I desperately want to tell him to just look away.
“Just checking in on our favorite client.” I nervously laugh while springing to my feet. The pendant is glowing intensely again as the temperature drops. A cold gust of wind hits us both, leaving us shivering in ninety-five-degree weather.
All I want to do is look at the dumpster behind me as her voice appears again. “Of course you were. I mean, look at him—they don’t just label it ‘movie star good looks’ for nothing.”
Gnawing on the inside of my mouth, I pull my black aviator sunglasses from the top of my head, trying desperately to slow the thumping in my chest.
“Ahh, so you want to ask invasive questions too?” Holden scoffs.
His question hangs, waiting for me to fill in the blanks, clearly enjoying how he is testing me, purposely not making this easy for anyone.
“No, I want to pitch a bad idea like everyone else in there.”
His smile drops. My lips tighten together, afraid to say anything else that might scare him away from where we are standing. After all, he’s good at walking away.
“Can’t be worse than a reality show.”
Holden rattles with his keys in one hand, unable to stop himself from throwing it in the air and catching it as it falls. He does this for a while as the silence builds. My hair catches in my mouth as the wind picks up.
“Show him the list on your phone,” the voice rasps in my ear, as I look down at my phone. Just like the coffee yesterday, it’s having a mind of its own as it flickers to my notes app, landing on my bullet-point list of research I did this morning.
This time, I force a blank stare, refusing to react.
