But now he stared at me like he’d never seen me before. Like he was trying to read something in me that he couldn’t quite believe. “Youwantme to touch you?”
Yes. The word was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t say it out loud. That was one step toward vulnerability. One step toward mess. One step toward disaster. I turned my back on Gideon again and mumbled, “Forget it.”
“Sadie!” His steps hurried after me, but I didn’t turn to look at him. If I did, he might see the tears I tried to fight.
“Leave me alone, Gideon,” I said. “Take the USB and go to work. I know you’d rather be there than here with me.” I marched back down Main Street without looking back. I found a garbage can and tossed the rest of my matcha latte away. My stomach was in knots; I couldn’t finish it.
A minute later, Gideon’s SUV rolled along the road beside me. “Sadie,” he said softly. “Get in the car. I’ll drive you back to town.”
“No.”
“Sadie. Please.”
“No.”
He sighed, but he didn’t drive off. He just rolled alongside me at a walking pace, even when two cars came up behind him and honked. I tried to wave him on, but Gideon was stubborn. He just kept driving beside me, occasionally glancing over and arching his brows like he was asking me to get in the car.
I wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
All these little acts of service were weakening my resolve. I couldn’t let these silly feelings win. I couldnotfall in love with Gideon. Not truly. Not in the deep, everlasting way that I’d always dreamed of. What a disaster that would be! I had to keep him at arm’s length, or else this whole arrangement would fall apart.
So, despite the honking and the ridiculousness of Gideonrolling at three miles an hour beside me, I walked all the way back to Life’s a Stitch and turned down the side street where I’d parked my car.
And stopped short.
One ugly word had been scratched into the white paint across the passenger side of my car:
LEAVE
This time, there was no doubt. The vandalismwasdeliberately targeting me. And it was escalating.
I never heard him get out of the car, but suddenly, Gideon’s arm went around my waist, and he wrenched me against his side to hold me close. I was sure he could feel the fine tremors going through my body as I stared at the damage, read and re-read the word. His phone was in his other hand. “Jack,” he growled, “check every camera we have near the bakery. Everything. Someone just threatened Sadie.”
GIDEON
I would find the person who did this. Hunt them. Hurt them.
FIFTEEN
SADIE
Marswood Security was housed in a three-story glass building on the edge of town. The first floor was all glossy reception and sleek conference rooms. Lots of gray, white, and black, with the company’s logo subtly displayed on walls, stationery, and screens.
Gideon guided me up the stairs to the second floor. He pressed his finger to a security pad, waited for the beep and the click that told us the lock had disengaged, and then opened the door to a high-tech lair. His brothers were sitting at a command station along with Connor, the whiz-kid cousin, and a couple of people I didn’t know. All of them buff men with an air of no-nonsense industry.
“What have you got?” Gideon asked when Jack stood to greet him.
“Nothing so far,” his brother replied, grimacing. He nodded at me. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay,” I said, which was the truth. Surprisingly.
Gideon’s hand pressed against my shoulder blades in response. He led me to a chair, then grabbed the arm of it to roll it closer to him as he took a seat next to me, never more than two feet away from me. After my experience with Henry, it should’ve felt suffocating, but instead, it felt nice. Comforting. Safe. Gideon’s hand moved from the armrest to my knee as he spoke to Jack. “I drove by about fifteen minutes before I called you, and the car was intact. That gives us a time frame.”
Jack grunted in response, running a hand through his hair and making it stand up on end. “We have limited coverage down that road. Our closest camera is at Fletcher’s shop at the end of Marswood Drive,” he said, naming the cross street two blocks away from where I’d parked. “That leaves a big area that’s unsurveilled. Connor, you think you can get us eyes anywhere closer?”
“I’ll work on it,” the teenager replied, tapping furiously on a keyboard.
To my left, Knox was staring at a sped-up security feed from a traffic camera on Main Street. There was no sign of the mirth he’d shown with Caroline—and no sign of the donut. I watched his screen for a moment, then asked, “How did you access that? Wouldn’t that belong to the DOT?”
