Page 31 of A Matter of Time

He put up a hand. “Spare me, all right? Just try and be a little less visible.”

I promised him I would work on it.

He mumbled something I didn’t catch.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you worried about me, Detective?” I asked hopefully.

“No,” he grunted. “I just don’t wanna find you with your brains blown out.”

Which basically closed the door on any and all of my wishful thinking.

FOUR

People constantly surprise me. I understand when you’re out at a club in the tightest, sexiest clothes you own that getting hit on is the response you’re after. But fresh from the gym, hair still wet from the showers, hooked up to your MP3 player is not the time for someone to try and pick you up. So when a guy leaned against me at the salad bar the following night, I was scowling by the time I turned around to look at him. I had walked through my day at the office in a haze and gone to work out in hopes that it would clear my head. I couldn’t quite seem to start feeling like myself, and being accosted by strangers was doing nothing for my mood.

“Jory.”

I waited. People knowing my name never put me more or less at ease with them.

He smiled quickly. “Brad Wyndham. I met you at Paul’s party last Saturday.”

I had no idea who he was.

He lowered his voice. “You went home with me.”

That bit of information was not designed to jog my memory either. I went home with lots of people, or had a while back. Lately, I was on the look out for the one.

He cleared his throat. “You don’t remember?”

It was rude to tell the truth in this situation. “No, I remember. How are you?”

Instant smile. “You were gone in the⁠—”

“How are you?” I repeated, cutting him off.

“Oh…fine.”

“Well, it was nice to see you again.” I smiled, closing up my spinach salad and turning to leave. After having picked everything, I realized I didn’t want it. It was typical of me.

“Wait.”

I kept moving, but before I could walk toward the cashier, he stepped in front of me.

“Don’t just dismiss me,” he snapped irritably. “I want to talk to you.”

I took out my other headphone and gave him my attention.

“You know what?” He moved out of my way. “Forget it. This whole exasperated, annoyed look you’re giving me is bullshit. I don’t deserve to⁠—”

I walked around him and started fiddling with my MP3 player again.

“Jory!”

I kept walking, not fast, just moving at my normal pace.