“Okay, asshole, buy her flowers, chocolates, jewelry or whatever women want and grovel. This funk you’ve been in for a week is way worse than the previous obsessive stalking.” Jason shakes his head and I groan. Something I’ve been doing a lot lately.
“You’re a real fucking expert. Flowers and chocolates would make her believe I’m not a creep?”
“You’re right, they won’t because you kind of are a creep.” He snorts and my hand itches for the Glock in my waistband.
“I need new friends.” I plop down onto the sofa and drop my head on the backrest.
“You can unfriend me, but we’re still partners here and it would be nice if you got your head back into business. We need a new floor manager and the whiskey supplier has delivery issues again. And the Saudi princess is coming to the States in a week and her schedule requires all hands on deck.”
“What happened to Carlos?” I ask about the floor manager first, not wanting to admit I thought the princess gig is like a month away. Jesus, I have no clue what’s happening here. I’m so fucking distracted.
“I fired him. Caught him stealing and selling his own alcohol.” Jason leans back and puts his feet up.
“I’m sorry, man. I don’t know how to get her out of my head. Or why she’s trapped there.” I drag my hand down my face.
Sasha occupied my waking hours before, but since that kiss a week ago, things have gotten worse. Her hot lips on mine, the way her body felt against me.
It was all sin, secret and surrender and made me want to coax more from her.
Feel more of her.
Enjoy more of her.
Devour more of her.
And the fucking tears in her eyes before I bolted. I don’t know what that was about, but they have been haunting me for days now.
“Look, as you said, I’m not an expert, but you’ve been trying to pull back and stay away for too long and it ain’t sticking. I don’t know if flowers would work, but they won’t hurt. Go to get the girl, so we can fucking get some work done here.”
He deserves a better partner. Fucking lost and ridden by guilt, I cave and tell him the whole truth.
Jason crosses his arms over his chest. “You were leaving gifts for her? Jesus Christ, man. She is scared she has a stalker—which she does. And when you finally talk to her, she kisses you…like the woman jumps you and instead of closing the deed, you ran away?” His laugh bellows, bouncing off the walls and landing in my stomach.
I clench my fists, but it’s not like I’m going to punch him for being right.
“There is a reason men don’t share,” I mumble.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” The asshole can barely catch his breath because apparently my life is hilarious. “The sad part here is that you ran away for all the right reasons. But now you’ve hurt her and if you go to correct it, you’ll need to confess you’re the stalker she fears, so you’re back to…wherever you are now.”
I groan. Yet again. “What can I do?”
“I don’t know. Start with the fucking flowers, close the deal, and hope your dick is a magic wand that fucks her into forgiveness.” He shrugs.
“I don’t think sleeping with her is the answer here.” I don’t want to use Sasha like that.
“No, but you might get her out of your system.” He stands up. “I’m going to check the floor and you go to get those flowers and maybe just man up and confess. Your intentions were good, after all. I think.” He chuckles.
Since I have no better idea, I do as he says. I’ve stood in the shadows across from the diner many times before and today I’m as out of shadows as possible, leaning against my yellow Porsche.
Sasha and her colleague walk outside after their shift. She spots me and stops, whispering something to her friend who checks me out with an amused expression and leaves.
Even from this side of the road, I see Sasha’s shoulders rise and fall with what I assume is a fortifying breath before she crosses the street.
The woman has been in my dreams for weeks now, but somehow after a week of not seeing her, she got more beautiful. The sight of her hits me with staggering intensity. My stomach tightens because I know this might be the last time I’ll see her.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” She bites her bottom lip, her eyes darting around, unwilling to settle on me.
“I’m sorry about our last meeting. I shouldn’t have—”
“Hey, I kissed you first.” She smiles and finally meets my eyes. There is softness in them that blankets me with hope.
“Yeah, you did.” I smile back at her, hoping she can see that I didn’t mind the kiss at all. Its memory is branded in my mind. I blow out air, reminding myself of the situation. “I want to protect you, Sasha…” mostly from myself. “But it’s complicated.”
Her head jerks back slightly. “You have a girlfriend.” Her eyes glisten, but she blinks a few times and smiles through what I think might be disappointment.
“No, I don’t.” The immediate relief on her face both pains and elates me. “But in some ways, the truth is even worse.”
She studies me for what seems like an eternity. I don’t mind the silent scrutiny. I wish I could see her thoughts and hope they are in my favor. I enjoy this moment before the words cause irreparable damage. The moments when I can just admire the hot, troubled, strong woman in front of me.
“Are these for me?”
Her question startles me and for a beat I don’t know what she’s saying. Her eyes drive me to the bouquet I’ve been squeezing in my palm.
“Yes, I-I-I wanted to apologize for running away last time.” And before I have to apologize again.
Her eyes sparkle under the fan of her lashes and she bites her lip again, smiling. “They are beautiful. Thank you.”
She cocks her head and I realize I’m still holding the flowers. “Sorry.” I push them to her.
“Wow, they are heavy.”
Okay, I went a bit nuts and got her the biggest bouquet in the store.
“I can help with them if you allow me to drive you home.”
She narrows her eyes while my mouth dries and my heart stampedes in my ribcage.
“Is that your car?”
That curls my lips. “Yes, one of them.”
Her eyes widen. “One of them?”
“Yeah, it’s a vice of mine. I collect cars.” Suddenly, I’m self-conscious. Jason makes fun of my hobby, but I grew up in my pop’s garage and now when I can, I simply treat myself. Okay, overindulge.
I can’t decipher Sasha’s look—astonishment, judgment?—and regret I didn’t take a less flashy car. I don’t think I have one.
“Are you rich?” It sounds like an accusation.
“Is that a problem? I’m also older than you and there is shit you don’t know that would repel you more than my bank account.” I should just tell her now, but I want a chance to revisit that kiss. Selfish bastard.
“I like you’re older. And, we all have shit to deal with, a past we’re not proud of. We can talk about it at some point, but why don’t we talk about silly inconsequential things and get to know each other first? How was your day, James?”
My name on her lips is like a siren’s song. I want to hear her scream it.
I open the door for her and we spend the short drive talking about simple stuff. We cover our favorite music, food, bits and pieces about our families and I almost forget about the cloud hanging above our heads. As the biggest coward in the world, I don’t want to break the pleasant flow between us.
In the parking lot near her building, I help her out of the car, still undecided about what I’m going to do next. Before I can talk myself into being the man she deserves and finally tell her the truth, Sasha floors me with her words.
“I have a confession to make.”