Page 31 of His to Cherish
Most days, I was okay with it. I didn’t hate Cory. That didn’t mean I ever wanted to receive an invite to his daughter’s birthday party, though.
But with Aidan, just thinking about that kiss, or that moment two years ago, or the look on his face on Friday night—I hadn’t been able to eat or drink the pain away. And I’d tried all weekend.
Which was why I was at Kate’s Kakes on a Sunday morning. I planned on drinking coffee and stuffing myself with a piece of everything she had in her display window.
“Hi, Kate,” I called with a wave of my hand as I entered.
I was staring at the case when Kate walked up to me and slid a coffee into my hand over her tantalizing display case of bagels, muffins, and cupcakes. “Um, Chelsea?”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, so distracted by the delicious carb overload that was about to occur that I didn’t catch the odd tone in her voice. “I’ll have one of everything.”
“What are you doing here?”
Her question made me pause, and that time, I did notice the strange tone.
I looked up, taking a sip of my coffee at the same time.
“What?”
Her eyes flickered to the door and back to me. “What are you doing here?”
What an odd question. I frowned and then waved my index finger in front of the case between us. “Um…getting one of everything in your case?”
“No,” she whispered. “I mean…why are you here and not at home?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Go home.”
“What?” My eyes widened and my lips parted. Kate and I weren’t friends, but we were friendly neighbors. I’d been a customer in her store ever since it opened, before I’d known my new neighbor across the street was the one who’d opened this place. “Why?”
“Because.” She drawled out the word and leaned forward. Then she did something incredibly strange. She reached out and grabbed my wrist, squeezing firmly, like in the way you knew someone was preparing you for bad news and they wanted a grip on your pulse while they delivered it. “I can’t say. But you have to get home.”
“You’re freaking me out.”
Then she did something stranger. She smiled right before a quiet laugh fell from her lips. “Trust me.” That smile turned into a grin. “You’re going to want to take your coffee and get home. Now. Promise.”
My heart fluttered at the still odd tone in her voice. Weird. She let go of my hand, reached inside the display, and handed me my standard Asiago bagel.
“This is for the road, but later…when you understand…I want details.” She leaned in again, giggled, and in a conspiratorial voice she said, “And I mean specific details. Now get.”
She waved me off and I took a step back.
“Kate, have you eaten too much sugar?”
Her laugh increased in giddiness and volume. She was so loud that several customers turned their heads in our direction. “Get. You’ll see what I mean when you get home.”
I shot her a strange look and made a mental note to stop by her house later, not to give her details about whatever it was she expected to hear from me, but to check her forehead for a fever—to see if she was coherent and making sense. Maybe she was stressed. I’d never seen her on a weekend at her store. Perhaps she lost it on Sunday mornings from the extra business.
Who knew?
I waved goodbye, listened to her clap her hands happily as I left, and got into my car.
I didn’t eat my bagel in the car because I wanted to heat it up in the microwave when I got home. I was still frowning, concerned about my neighbor’s mental stability, when I pulled into my drive.
I was so concerned, replaying the conversation in my head, that I almost missed it.
I had no idea how I could miss the enormous black truck parked in front of my house, but I didn’t see it until after I had turned in to my driveway, raised my garage door, parked inside, and glanced in my rearview mirror.
My hand froze at my visor, seconds away from pushing the garage door opener and shutting the garage door, when my breath hitched as a scream bubbled up in my throat.
Aidan walked around the corner of my garage and appeared in my rearview mirror, blocking my view of his truck. He crossed his arms over his chest, like a sentry, just like when he’d stood next to me the first time I met him.
He was blocking my garage door sensor. There was no way my garage would close if there was a six-foot-four, incredibly attractive man blocking the signal.
He planned it. I realized it when I continued to stare at him in my mirror and he slowly cocked one eyebrow. One side of his lips rose to a smirk as he silently challenged me to escape from him.
I pulled my gaze from his and looked down at my lap while I muttered, “What the hell does he want now?”
There was only one way to find out.
