Chapter 3
P olly wrinkled her nose at the sight of Jonah and her mother. They sat cuddled up on the couch by the bookshelf like teenagers.
When they leaned in to kiss, she looked away. Because good God, could they not get a room? Actually, they had a room, at home, but for some reason they were here, at Bloom, making their affection very public.
She grabbed a cloth and spray bottle and started cleaning tables. Scrubbing them so hard that her arm ached.
It was fine. There were five minutes left until the café closed. She could deal with it until then. The problem was, everyone else had left, even the girls who worked behind the counter, so there really wasn’t much else to look at.
She was on her fifth table when the café door opened and Joel stepped in. And, man oh man, he looked good. His blond hair was windswept, his tattoos peeking out of the end of his short sleeves.
She loved tattoos. Exactly why she had a few of her own.
Argh.
She forced herself to look away, and goddammit, she hated that it took force .
“Hey, Sunshine.”
She didn’t look up. Not at his words. Not when he stood so close she could smell the raw, earthy scent that seemed to linger on his body.
She scrubbed the table harder. “We’re actually closing in five minutes.”
“I know. I’m not here to order anything. I came to talk about your texts.”
“Texts?” She knew exactly what texts, because she remembered every word spoken and messaged to and from this man, but she was not ready to acknowledge why.
“The one where you asked about the missing women,” he said quietly.
“Uh, the question you didn’t answer.”
She moved to the next table. Had she cleaned this one already?
Joel lowered his voice. “Why did you ask?”
“You won’t answer my question but want me to answer yours?”
“I’m a cocky asshole like that.”
Dammit, she even found his honesty attractive.
A giggle came from the couch.
This time, she did look. Her mother’s head was tilted back, and she was doing that fake, flirty-laugh thing.
“That’s your mom?”
It wasn’t really a question. “And her fiancé.”
“Good guy?”
“I wouldn’t know. They’ve been dating three months.”
“Wow. She moves fast.”
Another kiss.
That’s it.
She stormed over to her mother. “We’re closed.”
Her mother looked up. Even though Olivia Mack was in her mid-fifties, she barely had a wrinkle to her name. And that magic pill was called Botox.
“Oh, sorry, darling. We lost track of time.” Her mother stood.
Jonah rose too, pulling the sides of his suit jacket together.
Why he wore a suit, she had no idea. He was an accountant who, according to her mother, worked remotely.
And even if he didn’t, the second he was off the clock, he could change into something more comfortable, right?
Or was she just finding everything about him annoying because he was engaged to her mother?
Her mother looked up at Joel and smiled ear to ear. “Hi. I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Liv.”
Joel shook her hand. “Joel.”
“Cute name.”
Cute name? What was her mother, fifteen?
If possible, the smile widened as her mother glanced between them. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”
“We’re not,” Polly clarified.
Joel slung an arm over her shoulders. “She’s my friend. Polly has a love-hate thing going on with me.”
What. The. Hell.
Her mother chuckled. “Oh, that’s often the case with my Polly and men.” Then her mother leaned into Joel. “Keep working on the love part. She’s worth it.”
“ Mom! ”
Her mother held up her hands. “All right. I’m going.”
The second her mother left, Polly lifted their empty mugs and took them to the kitchen.
“So is it Jonah you don’t like, or is it all of your mom’s partners?”
Polly stiffened. “I never said I didn’t like Jonah.”
“I think you like Jonah less than you like me.”
“I’m not sure that’s a mathematical possibility.”
Joel laughed.
She forced herself to ignore the way that husky, deep chuckle slipped into parts of her body that it had no right slipping into. “I don’t not like him. I just don’t like my mother dating him. Plus, from everything I’ve gathered, he seems to have the emotional depth of a raindrop.”
“I thought you didn’t know him.”
She grabbed the mop and bucket. She’d already cleaned the floors, thank God—less reason to stay here. “Excuse me. I need to put these away.”
He took the bucket of dirty water from her hands. “Where do they live?”
“I didn’t ask you to help.” She went to grab for the bucket, but he pulled it out of her reach.
“You didn’t need to. Where should we put this water?”
“Dawson—”
“Do you fight everyone on everything, or do I just get special treatment?”
Her jaw clicked and she headed through the kitchen and out the back door. “I tip the water into the garden near the fence, and when you’re done, the bucket goes down here. And I don’t fight with everyone, just you.”
As Joel emptied the water, she unlocked the old root cellar door. The thing was built back when the building was—a long freaking time ago.
She hated it down here. It was the smallest cellar to ever have existed. Or at least the smallest she’d ever been in. She could barely stand upright. Joel would definitely need to crouch.
She only kept cleaning products down here because she was running out of space in the back room.
One deep breath, and she quickly moved down the stairs to set the mop in the corner, already feeling her chest tightening at the lack of space.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned as Joel moved off the last step, and yep, he had to hunch.
“So I get special treatment, is that what you’re saying?” His full lips curved into a grin.
She took the bucket from him and set it beside the mop. She was just turning to reply when a bang sounded and the room shot into darkness.
Joel cursed, and she heard rustling before the flashlight on his cell lit up the small space.
But the light didn’t help her racing heart. And it didn’t do anything for the black dots starting to hedge her vision.
Out. She needed to get out.
Joel climbed the steps and pushed at the door.
It didn’t open.
“Shit,” he cursed. “The lock must have latched.”
No.
He moved to the side, and she rushed up the steps and gave the door a big shove. It didn’t budge.
She shoved again, harder this time, her heart now beating so hard she could feel the pulse in her throat.
Come on, come on, come on.
“Polly, it’s fine. I’ll text the team. One of the guys will come and let us out.”
She shook her head. “No. I need to get out now . I need…” The room started to close in on her, and she swayed.
“Whoa!” Strong fingers wrapped around her waist, and she was lifted and placed in a seated position on the bottom steps.
She could barely make out Joel kneeling in front of her. He was a blur. Everything was a blur. Even the pockets of darkness swirled in her vision.
“Hey. Talk to me, Sunshine. What’s going on?”
“I don’t like…small spaces.”
“I need you to breathe, honey.”
She couldn’t. The room was getting smaller by the second, and she was ninety percent sure she was going to pass out.
“Polly, you need to breathe .” His deep voice should have been calming, but it was coming in waves.
Her breaths grew sharp, like desperate gasps.
There was no way out. She was stuck. Just like she’d been stuck as a kid. “I can’t…I c-can’t?—”
He cupped her cheek.
A string of words were said, but she couldn’t pull them together into sentences.
His thumb swiped her cheek, and he spoke again. This time she forced herself to make them make sense.
“Look at me, Polly. Look at my eyes. What color are they?”
“My…my chest hurts!”
“I know. But right now, I need you to focus on me. What color are my eyes?”
She scanned them, pleading with the spinning to slow down. “I can’t really see them in the dark. But they’re usually brown. Sometimes they look green.”
“Yeah, I’ve been told that before. It’s confusing, isn’t it?” Another swipe of his thumb. “Can you feel my palm on your cheek?”
“Yes.”
“Is it cold or hot?”
She let the warmth sink into her skin. “Hot. You’re always hot.”
He chuckled, and the sound punched through the wall of her fear. “Yeah, I don’t run cold very often. I’m going to take a deep breath, and I want you to do it with me. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you can.” His chest rose on an inhale, and she tried to do the same.
The black dots started to disintegrate. Air filled her lungs.
But she didn’t take her eyes off his. She couldn’t if she’d tried. He was the only stable thing in a world that was still tilting beneath her feet.
Joel watched Polly’s wide eyes.
She was coming back to him.
He pulled in another long, exaggerated breath. Again, she copied him, a vulnerable trust in her gaze.
“This cellar is…it’s too small,” she whispered, that unfamiliar shake in her voice.
“I bet with me in here it feels even smaller.”
She scoffed. “With your head in here it certainly does.”
There she was. He stroked her cheek again. “Connor’s close. He won’t be long.”
She nodded but it was jerky. Her gaze began to drift around the cellar again, that focus slipping.
“Hey.”
Her attention swung back to him.
“Did you know I have a cat?”
Her brows flickered. “You don’t.”
“I do. She’s black with a white strip down the middle of her face, and she’s very demanding when it comes to food. A bit like me.”
“You don’t strike me as a cat owner.”
“ I don’t strike me as a cat owner. Yet here I am.”
Suspicion danced in her eyes, competing with the fear. “What’s her name?”
“I haven’t named her yet. Any ideas?”
“Saint. Because if she’s real, she must be one to put up with you.”
He chuckled. “Is it all men you hate, or just me?”
“I don’t hate men. I’m just very firm in my belief that they take. And once they’re done taking, they leave.”
He slipped a piece of hair off her cheek. “Sounds like you haven’t met the right guy yet.”
“Doesn’t matter which guy it is—he’ll leave once he’s done.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’ll push him away before he has a chance to prove he’s there to stay.”
She blinked, then shook her head, her gaze moving around the room again, that panic once again settling into her expression.
“Polly—”
“I just need to do this for a second.” She leaned her head into his chest. Then her temple was touching him, her breath whispering against his shirt.
He slipped his hand to her back and started to rub slow circles. Her breathing was loud, but it was also steady. Measured.
Good.
Her forehead was warm against his chest, the heat penetrating his shirt, moving into his skin. There was nothing awkward about the way they waited. It was comfortable. Easy. And as long as her breathing remained steady, he was happy.
They only had to wait another minute or two before the click of a lock sounded above. Light streamed into the room.
He squinted up to see Connor crouching at the top of the stairs. His friend opened his mouth, only to pause at the sight of Polly leaning against his chest.
Joel mouthed a thanks, and his friend dipped his chin before slipping away.
“Sunshine…the door’s open.”
Her head lifted, and she scrunched her eyes at the light. It wasn’t actually that bright, but compared to the basement, it was like looking at the sun.
He kept a hand on the middle of her back as he helped her up the steps.
When they reached the top, Joel made sure she was steady before studying the outside of the door.
It was one of those old barrel bolts. The kind that had to be pulled over and notched into place.
The kind that was physically impossible to move on its own from the wind or momentum.
Someone had locked them in.
He scanned the area, but no one was there. Had it been a joke?
Polly was already moving into the café.
He closed the door and followed her. “Has that ever happened before?”
“Never.” Polly didn’t look at him as she locked the back door then returned to the counter.
Before going over to her, he checked the office and bathrooms for anyone who might be there who wasn’t supposed to be. For signs that an unwelcome visitor had stepped into her café. Polly didn’t seem to notice what he was doing.
The place was empty. But that didn’t stop the churning in his gut.
When she still didn’t meet his gaze, he stepped forward. “Polly?—”
“If it’s okay, I’d prefer you didn’t tell anyone about that. About my panic attack, I mean.”
He tilted his head. “There’s nothing wrong with needing help.”
“I know.”
“But I won’t tell anyone.”
She swallowed.
“Do you need a lift home?” He inched closer again, like he needed to be within arm’s reach.
She shook her head. “No. But thanks.”
He shot a glance over his shoulder before looking back at her. “Polly, I think someone locked us in.”
Her eyes flared, then she shook her head. “No. It was the wind. The door blew shut and the lock caught.”
She had to know that wasn’t possible.
“Polly—”
“You should go.”
He didn’t want to leave her. Not after what had just happened. But he also couldn’t force anything.
He took another step forward, not missing the small hitch in her breathing. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
She nodded, but the move was jerky.
Finally, he forced himself to step away. To cross to the front door. He’d just touched the handle when Polly called out.
“Joel.”
He glanced over his shoulder.
She was fiddling with the edge of the counter, face still pale. “Thank you.”
He smiled, because he knew that must have taken a lot. “I’m not the asshole you think I am. You need me, I’m here. Anytime.”
She gave him a little frown.
One more smile her way, and he left. But when he reached his truck, he didn’t leave.
That basement door couldn’t have closed and locked on its own. Not with the weight and lack of wind. Someone had locked them in. He would wait until she finished. Maybe even tail her home to make sure she was okay.
But one question repeated in his head…why had they been locked in?