CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Brett
One Year Ago
“Did she tell you he has a tattoo of a three-headed dog right above his dick?”
I nearly choke on my gin and tonic. They might as well be twins, or sisters at the very least. They have the same long, straight, shiny mahogany hair and the same blue-grey eyes with full, rosy lips, usually spouting something brash or crude.
Barrett’s cousin, Anna, is in town from Kentucky for the weekend and Thursday dinner was strategically moved to Friday drinks at the Rickhouse, a much swankier bourbon bar on the river, just for the occasion. It’s amazing we even found a table because this is one of the most popular places in the city. I should be excited and ready to let loose, but I’m still freaked the fuck out from finding a random smoothie in my car the other day.
Except it’s not that random. You know who broke into your car and left it there.
But, for some reason, I don’t have the guts to confront Colson about it. It’s almost as if I didn’t see him do it, I can’t prove anything. Plus, he said they were gross. Why would he bring me a homemade smoothie for lunch and leave me the other kind?
You are seriously debating that kind of detail when Colson is literally the only one on the planet who knows the significance of that exact brand and flavor of smoothie?
Anna flashes her eyes, drawing my attention back to her as she peers over the table at me with her icy cat eyes, “Can I see? Do you have pictures?” She crosses one knee over the other, bouncing her black strappy heel expectantly.
“ That’s what I said! ” Barrett cackles as she smacks the tabletop, the light glinting off the gold sparkles on her black lace top.
I knew what this was. A weekend with the two of them is like a hurricane making landfall. They’re two sharks looking for chum in the water, and they always find it. Dim lighting and a backlit bar don’t hurt, either.
I shake my head, finally able to swallow my drink.
Anna arches her brow and tosses her hair over her shoulder, “Nothing? Seriously?”
“Nothing for you, ” I laugh, settling back in my chair.
“That’s hateful,” Anna looks down her nose at me, “spiteful, even.”
I waggle my shoulders, taunting her before I reach down to adjust the bow tie at the waist of my jeans.
“You know,” Anna tilts her head and purses her lips, “I never would’ve expected this from you. ”
It’s college all over again.
“Brett’s selfish now,” Barrett says with a wave of her hand, “she’s come upon a beautiful man with great wealth and she refuses to share any of it.”
I stifle a laugh. Barrett talks about Bowen like he’s stepped off the pages of some mafia love story or a secret billionaire romance.
“Share what?” I slide the strap of my black tank top further up on my shoulder, “And what money? He works a nine to five, just like I do. More, actually.”
“Except he bought you a brand-new car,” Barrett quips with a twinkle in her eye.
“But is he a good guy?” Anna scrunches up her face, looking back and forth between me and Barrett, “Is he a mature partner you can see yourself with long-term? Has he done the work to achieve personal growth and move beyond his baggage?”
Anna’s been hanging around Barrett too long.
“Speaking of baggage,” Barrett turns to Anna, “are you still dating that one guy?”
Anna touches her glass to her lips, “Jesse,” she mutters into her bourbon, “more like friends with benefits. I don’t know, I suddenly heard from him last week after a month of radio silence.”
Barrett bows her head, shooting Anna a look, “Girl, that’s not friends with benefits, that’s a trauma bond.”
“Get off my nuts, man!” Anna shouts, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of the group next to us. “Do you know what the dating scene is like in Lex right now?”
“Probably the same as it is here,” Barrett mumbles.
I laugh to myself, letting my eyes wander around the room. I gaze aimlessly at the chandelier above the bar and follow the crown molding down the wall to the floor. That’s when I suddenly lock eyes with a guy at the next table—the same table who turned to see what Anna was hollering about .
He has a dark fade, with immaculate skin and almond eyes, dressed in fitted dark wash jeans, boots, and black henley pushed up to his elbows. He glances back and forth between me and the guy he’s speaking with across the table. That one has dark blonde scruff and long honey blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with fitted black jeans and pristine black boots.
As subtly as I can, I lean closer to Anna, “These guys over here want to know whose nuts you’re talking about.” Then I shift my eyes to the side.
Barrett and Anna barely steal glances their way when a server appears out of the crowd and sets another gin and tonic down in front of me. I look up with a furrowed brow and shake my head to indicate I haven’t ordered it. The server nods to the bar, tossing his shaggy dark hair out of his eyes.
“Someone sent it over for you,” he says with a wink before turning on his heel and disappearing back into the crowd.
“Since when does anyone send me a drink?” I shoot a dubious glance at Barrett.
“Since you don’t look like you want to murder anyone anymore,” she snorts.
“Hell yeah, ” Anna nods, “it was probably one of them.” She flashes a sultry look toward the guys at the next table.
“A lot of good that’ll do them,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“Why?” Anna isn’t looking at me anymore, she’s leaning back in her chair, surveying the entire group at the table. “You can still introduce us to them…”
I nod in agreement and pick up the glass to set it aside. When I see the napkin beneath it, I flinch in horror, nearly splashing gin onto the table. There’s a simple sketch in the middle of the napkin, about three inches long, drawn with a black marker.
A bee.
A Honeybee.
I immediately cover it with my palm and crumple it into my fist as inconspicuously as possible. Then, careful not to draw attention to myself, I crane my neck to scan the bar. But it’s no use, it’s a madhouse and half the people I see are just silhouettes anyway. And even if the server or bartender could remember who ordered it, which is doubtful, what am I going to do about it?
Before I can consider it further, I sense someone at my shoulder. I turn to my right and see the two guys who have been staring at us from the next table.
The blonde one dressed head to toe in black sets his hand on the back of Barrett’s chair, “You all sound like you’re having a good time, but I just have to ask,” he leans across the table to Anna, “who’s on your nuts and do we need to remove them, by force if necessary? ”
Barrett’s eyes round and she partially covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh.
“Told you,” I mutter with an impish smile.
Anna grins proudly from across the table, “No one, anymore,” then she shoots a look at Barrett and reaches over the table, “Anna.”
“Ethan,” he replies and shakes it before turning to Barrett to introduce himself.
The dark haired one rests his arm on the back of my chair and leans into my ear, “Wells,” he offers his other hand with a smile.
I turn and lean back slightly so I can see him before shaking his hand, “Brett.”
“ Oh, ” Barrett nods to my drink, “did you send that over?”
Wells looks down at the gin and tonic in front of me and shakes his head, “No,” and without missing a beat, he plucks the glass off the table, “sorry about their luck, whoever they are.”
My stomach drops as I watch him set the full glass down at a recently vacated table behind us. Seconds later, another group snatches up the seats and it’ll only be a matter of time before the spent glasses—and my full one—are cleared away.
But what if whoever sent the drink is still watching?
Wells turns back to me and bows his head with a grin, “A better man would approach you and just ask what you want.”
Shit, this is not good.
I plaster a smile on my face and try to conceal the dread overtaking me, “Thank you,” my voice sounds normal, but my mind is racing, “but as a general rule, I don’t accept drinks from people I don’t know.”
“That’s smart,” his eyes wander around the room before settling back on me, “in that case, I’ll just ask you again later.”
Fan-fucking-tastic.
A year ago, I would’ve been all too happy for Wells and his toned arms and chiseled pecs to step off the pages of GQ and set up camp next to me at this table. I would’ve been ecstatic when Ethan waved a couple more of his entourage over to join us. It would’ve been a magical night filled with flirtation, fine drinks, and maybe even some fucking. But my engagement ring and the creepy napkin drawing I just received indicate that it’s just not meant to be. And as soon as I feel Wells’s fingers leave the back of my chair and glide up and down my arm, my anxiety hits a fever pitch.
But then I get an idea.
Maybe I can use Wells to my advantage. I’ve known him for all of five seconds, but he looks like he could be intimidating. If Colson is the one who sent me the drink, how would he know that Wells is not Bowen— my fiancé?
But would Wells even go along with that?
Every option feels icky. But being targeted from the shadows feels ickier, even if I know who it might be. And the thought of fleeing in fear and ruining my night out with Barrett and Anna makes me too angry to even consider. I shouldn’t have to rely on the intimidating posture of another man—who I also don’t know—to feel safe, but here we are.
I turn over my shoulder and tap Wells’s chest with my knuckle, “Hey?”
He leans in close to hear me, his cheek brushing against my hair. His cologne or aftershave smells like vanilla and spice.
“I’m going to be honest,” I begin, “I have a fiancé, but there’s a guy that’s been following me and I think he’s here. I don’t know where he is, but I’m just saying, if you want to act like we’re together for the time being, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
Wells listens to my proposal with intrigue, one corner of his mouth curling in amusement. He pauses for a moment and then shifts his stance before setting his elbow on the table, “Won’t let me buy you a drink, but we’re already dating?”
I nod and tip my shoulder in a half shrug, “Pretty much.”
Wells glances off into space for a few moments with a thoughtful smile, “I’m crushed, I really am,” his eyes wander back to me, giving me a once-over, “but I guess I can help you out.” He gives a nod, “I’ll be your fake boyfriend.”
“Thanks,” I breathe a small sigh of relief.
“No offense, but from how your friend was talking,” Wells nods to Anna, “It sounded like she was attracting unwanted attention, not you.”
“Normally, I’d say yes, but this is a new thing and I don’t really know what to do about it.”
“How about your boyfriend? What’s he think about it?”
There’s no way I’m even going to try to explain to Wells who I think might be following me or what Bowen thinks about it. Instead, I just scrunch up my nose with an evasive smile, “It’s kind of a long story.”
Wells drops his head with a laugh, “Alright,” he nods, “fair enough.”
“I know you didn’t come here to stand next to me for no reason, so I get it if you’d rather not. I don’t want to ruin your night.”
“You’re not,” Wells’s expression doesn’t change, “being asked to stand next to a mysterious woman with gorgeous eyes and a secret past isn’t the worst night I’ve spent.”
“Let’s go with that,” I nod, “it makes me sound more exciting.”
“Since we’re official now,” he leans into my ear, “you want that drink? You can even come with me to order it yourself.”
The bar is crowded two rows deep, but waiting gives me something to do besides sit at the table scanning the crowd. I notice Wells’s arm slowly come into my periphery before he wraps it around my shoulders from behind.
He pulls me to his chest and leans over my shoulder, “Is this convincing enough?”
“Yeah,” I say with a laugh, “just act like I’m not a total stranger and we’ll be good. ”
Still, I can’t help but look around, searching for someone who’s looking at me. Maybe I do need another drink, after all. I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin. And Wells’s arm around me should help the charade, but it only makes things worse.
“What do you do?” I ask, “Like, for a living.”
He leans into my ear, “Law enforcement.”
This should also reassure me. What better person to have standing next to me while I’m being watched and someone—known or not—is sending me creepy drinks? But, again, it doesn’t…
“So, what do you like?” Wells straightens up, his arm still hanging across my shoulders.
“I guess another gin and tonic,” I sigh.
He keeps scanning the bar for an opening, “I’m not talking about your drink.”
I roll my eyes and remember that Wells’s not here to be a pawn. It’s foolish to believe he’ll be totally complacent in my ulterior motives when he has motives of his own. He’s a wildcard, and this might be more difficult to pull off. I swallow hard, feeling more unsettled by the second.
Wells doesn’t care when I don’t answer him. But I feel his other hand start to move back and forth over my hip. Soon, it slides across my stomach, brushing against the waist of my jeans. I stare straight ahead, hoping to see a part in the crowd that I can make a beeline for. Finally, he moves his hand to my shoulder, but only to brush my hair away from my ear. Now, the sharp aroma of spice on his skin just seems invasive.
“Is this always your angle?” his voice sends a shiver down my neck.
I glance at him in my periphery, “What angle?”
“Pretending you already have a boyfriend.”
“I do have a boyfriend,” I say when I feel his hand on my waist again.
“No judgement,” slowly, he moves up my ribcage, “I think it’s really hot.”
My muscles tense the higher his hand goes, until I feel his thumb on the side of my breast. As soon as I move, he lets go of me and steps to the side. He cranes his neck and steps around me, peering around the people in front of us. Then he motions for me to follow him to the far side of the bar.
Thank God , I shake my head in irritation.
He leads me to the edge of the crowd where there are fewer people. My head is on a swivel as I continue scanning the room, searching for Colson—or anyone, for that matter—who’s looking my way. I don’t believe I’ll actually see anyone, especially in the dim light, it’s more compulsive at this point.
Wells looks over his shoulder to make sure I’m still there and I follow his shape in the corner of my eye. Still distracted, I vaguely see him turn to the side to let me step past him. And when I do, I look up to see pitch black hallway instead of the edge of the bar. Everything goes quiet and when I spin around, I hear the metallic clank of a heavy door slamming shut behind me.
I have made a huge mistake .
I’m so distracted by the idea of someone watching me, I don’t realize that I’m walking straight through a door. The walls are painted black and the corridor is lit by a single sconce halfway down the hall. I don’t know where it leads, but the only door I can see belongs to what looks like a storage closet about 10 feet away. It’s otherwise deserted except for Wells and me. I spin around to see Wells let go of the metal door handle.
He glances around the corridor before his eyes settle back onto me, “If you’re worried about someone watching you, you’re probably safe in here.”
Safe, my ass.
“What, are we just going to stand around in an empty hallway?” I laugh, trying to deflect as best I can.
He takes a step into my space, “No.”
My muscles begin to tremble, but it’s not cold. The adrenaline starts pumping.
“Besides, you never got me that drink,” I nod to the door with a smile and I try to brush past him, but he backs me into the wall before I can take another step.
Bracing myself against his shoulders, I try to hold him at arm’s length, but everything is happening too fast. I rock back on my heel as his chest closes the space between us, pressing my back into the cold drywall.
I shake my head as I feel the panic rising, “No,” it comes out like a croak from my dry throat, “come on, I still want my drink.”
Wells slides his hand along my neck and up the side of my face, pushing my chin up with his thumb. Even in the shadows, there’s a glimmer in his deep brown eyes.
“I know you never wanted a drink.” His lips brush over mine as he tries to kiss me, then he moves to my neck as I recoil, “It’s better if you’re not drunk, anyway.”
All the air leaves the room when he says the last part. I don’t want to know what he means.
“You need to let me go,” I say through clenched teeth, pushing against him.
“Because of your boyfriend?” he grins, looking me up and down, “He doesn’t have to know. If I’m the fake boyfriend, everything we do is fake, right?”
“Nope,” I dig my nails into his shoulders, pushing harder, “it’s not.”
Wells snatches my right hand off his shoulder so fast it startles me. He twists it behind me and holds it against the small of my back, “Come again?” he asks.
An image flashes through my mind.
I gasp for air and my arms fly to his shoulders, but he crosses his forearm over my chest and pins them back down.
My muscles tremble and it’s like I’m back in that dark room, three years ago, and it’s happening all over again. I try to lean forward and push against Wells with my whole body, but he releases my face and snatches my left hand, too, and slams my back against the wall with his entire body. I let out a gasp, feeling my heartrate skyrocket.
I need to get out of here. Now.
“Does this usually work for you?” I mutter through panicked breaths, trying in vain to maintain composure while also wriggling my hands from his grip.
“You’re the one with the fantasies, hon, I’m just going with it,” he murmurs while crushing my wrists between my back and the wall.
“Just forget it, I want to leave!” I shout angrily.
Wells leans closer until his nose almost touches mine, “Do you want your back or your face against the wall?” Then he nods behind him, “Or would you prefer the floor? Because I can tell you which one you’ll enjoy more.”
I’m staring back at him, frozen with fear, when I feel a swish of warm air as the door flies open. I give a shriek and pitch to the side as a dark figure knocks Wells off of me. Stumbling halfway to the floor, I wrench my hands away as he’s torn off of me. I only see Wells’s head and his hands as he’s grabbed by the shoulders and thrown into the closet with a crash.
The door slams behind them, leaving me plastered against the wall, shaking, and my mouth hanging open in horror. As soon as I hear muffled yells and bangs, I lunge for the door and throw it open, propelling myself back into the main room. Moments later, I’m furiously weaving through the crowd like a salmon trying to swim for its life. I catch sight of Barrett heading toward the restrooms and half run to catch up with her, bumping into more than a couple of people as I go.
I call out to her and she finally stops to wait for me before passing the bar and descending down another matte black hallway lit by vintage sconces. While she furiously types out a text, muttering something about leaving work at work, I duck into a stall and throw the lock shut, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Once inside, I sit down on the edge of the toilet and grab my face. I rock back and forth, raking my hands up my cheeks and over my scalp, trying not to hyperventilate.
I can’t believe that asshole tried to assault me. Who the hell was that who came flying out of nowhere? And what happened after they both disappeared into that closet?
I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. I just want all of this to be over. I don’t want to see him again.
I take a few more moments to collect myself and steady my trembling hands before unlocking the door.
And when I step in front of the mirror, the reflection gives me a start.
Are you fucking kidding me right now?
Hannah Bailey is standing at the sink directly to my right, leaning into the mirror plucking something from her eyelashes. She’s wearing tight black pants paired with black leather ankle boots and a backless, cream halter top. Her blonde hair is tousled in beachy waves. When she realizes it’s me at the next sink, staring at her, she straightens up and looks over her shoulder.
“Hi,” I finally break the awkward silence, “I didn’t know you were here.” Trying to sound cordial and upbeat around Hannah is proving to be more challenging by the day.
“It’s my coworker’s birthday,” she says half-heartedly and turns back to the mirror to reapply her mascara. As she screws the top back on the tube, she suddenly straightens up and looks over her shoulder again, “Is Bo here, too?”
She’s terrible at masking her hopefulness and the uptick in her tone immediately turns my anxiety to irritation.
“No,” I start washing my hands for no reason, “it’s girls’ night.”
“Oh.” Hannah pauses for a moment with a hint of skepticism.
She stares at me blankly and then looks me up and down.
“What?” I shake my hands into the sink and reach for a paper towel.
“Nothing,” Hannah’s eyes drop as she turns back to the mirror, shaking her head dismissively, “I saw you with some guys. I just figured Bo would be here, too. Is the one with the dark hair a friend of yours?”
My chest tightens and I clench my jaw. An intense anger builds, fueled by the last shreds of panic from miraculously escaping whatever the hell happened—or was going to happen—back in that hallway. I stare into the mirror at my reflection and take a deep breath, knowing exactly what Hannah’s implying.
I’ve never hit anyone before, but tonight might be the night.
I crumple up the wet paper towel and toss it in the trash can under the dispenser, “If you want to say something, just say it.”
I unzip my green leather crossbody and reach into the interior pocket, retrieving my tube of Maple Sun. I jerk the top off and drag it over my lips, glaring at Hannah’s reflection. She looks up and opens her mouth to fire off another asinine comment, but stops short, her eyes trained on my lipstick. I turn to her with a venomous smirk, rubbing my copper lips together.
Hannah plants one hand on the vanity and the other on her hip, “I know you were in my apartment,” she seethes.
“Yeah,” I brush her off, snapping the top back on the lipstick tube, “I was there with Hildy when she checked on your cat.”
I don’t know whether she realizes I came back later , but there’s no way I’ll ever admit that unless she saw me with her own eyes.
“Are you mad I stole my own lipstick back?” I continue. “Speaking of which, why are you coming in my house and leaving shit in my closet?”
Bowen gets creepy pictures, I get creepy drawings, we’re a match made in heaven.
“It’s Bo’s house,” Hannah replies, adjusting the waist of her pants.
I cock my head, disregarding her dig, “Does Bowen know you like sneaking into our house and stealing my stuff? Do you like to play dress-up and pretend you’re me or do you do black magic rituals with them? Or,” my voice gets louder as I continue, “do you like sneaking over in the middle of the night to play with rocks in the driveway?”
She jerks her head up, “Does Bo know you like hanging on other guys when he’s not around?” she snaps.
I’m not in the mood for this. Wells the creep almost assaults me in a dark hall, some phantom flies out of nowhere and throws him into a closet, and now Hannah’s accusing me of sleazing around the bar with strange men. And yeah, maybe that’s how it looks, but it’s not like she cares enough to find out the truth.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I zip my purse and swing it over my hip, “Run and tell Bowen I’m with other guys just to be a salty bitch because he won’t fuck you.”
Hannah gazes at me, her scornful smile unchanged. But the muscles in her neck twitch as soon as I utter those words, just like the moment Hildy introduced me to her at the wedding. But she holds onto her composure, running her tongue over her teeth and slowly turning to the mirror.
“ Anymore. ” She drags her middle finger across the edge of her lower lip, sharpening the line of glistening apricot gloss.
Before I can say anything else, the door to the other stall swings open and bangs against the wall, giving me a start. Barrett saunters past the door, seemingly oblivious to the both of us. I’m so irritated, I forgot she was even in the restroom with me.
“Excuse me.” Barrett brushes against Hannah’s chest as she steps in front of the sink, nudging her aside.
Hannah flinches and takes a step back, caught off-guard by the sudden intrusion. Barrett glances over her shoulder at me.
“Are you talking about Bowen Garrison?” She waves her hand under the faucet to trigger the motion sensor and starts washing her hands, deadpan as she waits for an answer.
“Yeah?” I drag out the word, watching her with curiosity.
“Who are you?” Hannah barks, clearly annoyed by the interruption.
Barrett shakes her hands into the sink and reaches past me for a paper towel. She takes her time blotting her hands and then turns to Hannah, eyeing her with condescension.
“I’m Barrett Halsey,” she looks Hannah up and down, “who the fuck are you? ”
Before Hannah can answer, Barrett turns back to me, narrowing her eyes, “You look familiar,” she studies me for a moment, tilting her head in scrutiny, “you’re Bowen’s girl, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” I crack a smile, “have we met?”
Barrett waves her hand with a smile, “I’ve seen pictures of you on Facebook, that’s why. Y’all are engaged , aren’t you?”
“ Yes, ” I nod, “so, how do you know Bowen? ”
Barrett opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates. She looks back and forth between Hannah and me and then averts her eyes, “We were kind of on and off for a while last year,” she replies, flashing me an apologetic grin.
I arch my eyebrows, “ Really? ”
“We kept it under wraps because I was fresh out of a bad relationship. But I travel a lot for work, so it just didn’t work out.” Barrett lowers her voice, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous of you. That man has skills that should be illegal.”
I press my lips together and look away, trying not to laugh.
“ Oh my god, ” Barrett grabs my arm, “I’m sorry, that was so inappropriate! This was before y’all were together, I swear.”
I shake my head and wave her off, “It’s fine, seriously.”
“Are you sure you’re talking about the right guy?” Hannah breaks in, her sour face drawing up into a scowl.
Barrett looks at Hannah with annoyance, as if she just realized Hannah’s still in the room.
“Well,” she tosses her shiny mocha hair over her shoulder with a smirk, “if it’s the same Bowen Garrison from Canaan with eyes to die for and that sexy-ass tattoo of some demons right above his dick , then yeah , I’d say I’m talking about the right guy.”
My jaw tenses and the muscles in my neck ache from trying to maintain a straight face. Meanwhile, Hannah looks like she’s about to throw hands.
Barrett turns away from her with a scowl, her face melting into a charming smile a second later, “If I didn’t say it already, congratulations. He’s a really good guy. Granted, he’s so sweet that you might have to shoo away the fruit flies that are constantly buzzing around him trying to get a piece of that. In fact, when we were dating, he kept talking about this one girl that’s been obsessed with him for years and just won’t leave him alone.” Barrett snaps her fingers as though she’s trying to remember a name.
“Oh, no,” I mutter, feigning concern.
“Yeah, maybe a friend of his sister’s?”
I clench my jaw, seconds from collapsing in laughter.
“Anyway, he said she’s annoying as fuck , always hanging on him and showing up wherever he is. Kind of creepy. So, hopefully that’s run its course by now.”
I nod, biting my lip with amusement.
“Anyway, congratulations again.” Barrett spins around, giving a wave as she flings the restroom door open, “You ladies have a good evening!”
I scoff at Hannah and brush past her before the door can even close. I rush back down the hallway and burst into laughter when I see Barrett waiting for me at the corner of the bar. She lets out a whoop and grabs my hand.
“That was,” I gasp, “ ah-mazing. ”
Barrett links her arm in the crook of my elbow and leans into my ear as we descend back into the darkness, “Girl, I got you,” she croons as we weave through the crowd to our table.
It suddenly dawns on me that an awkward and terrifying situation may be waiting for me when we get there. I’ve managed to forget for 10 minutes what happened in the dark hallway with Wells, but I still don’t know what happened to him or who pulled him off of me. Regardless, we have to get back to Anna. There’s a high probability she’s already climbed onto some Kawasaki parked outside and ditched us for Ethan and his spotless boots.
But when we arrive at the table, there’s only one guy left. I vaguely recognize his dirty blonde hair and oddly smooth face that makes him look like a six-foot-tall Ken doll. He’s sitting next to Anna with his hand resting on the back of her chair.
“Where’d everyone go?” Barrett glances around.
Anna swivels in her chair and eyes me from across the table, “Is Bowen here and we don’t know about it?”
My stomach drops, “What?” I step up into my seat and smooth the front of my shirt.
The Ken doll hooks the heel of his brown square-toe boot over the rung of his chair. He rubs the side of his chin and sits back with a smirk.
“You got a bodyguard here somewhere?” he grins.
I stare blankly at him, “What are you talking about?” I ask again with a half-smile.
He and Anna exchange amused looks, “Wells got in a fight,” Anna beams, excitement splashed across her face.
“ What? ” My heartrate skyrockets again.
Ken doll looks down into his lap, “I don’t know if fight is word I’d use,” he drones, “more like got his ass beat.”
I’m getting the feeling that Ken Doll isn’t too sad about Wells’s misfortune. Anna laughs into her hand and shoots Ken Doll a look.
“By who?” my voice pitches up as I try to look around as subtly as possible.
Ken Doll shrugs, “You all went to the bar and Wells came back all torqued up. He had blood on him and it looked like someone tried to break his face. He said some guy pulled a knife and told him to stay away from you.”
“He called us crazy bitches and then they all left,” Anna grins deviously, eating it up, “all except Hayden.”
I stare back at her in shock, “What’d the guy look like?” I murmur across the table.
“You didn’t see any of it?” Ken Doll sounds surprised, “Damn. I wanted the whole story.”
“Uh, no.” I’m not lying, technically I only saw a dark figure for a split second. “I was waiting at the bar with him and then went to the restroom. ”
“It was probably Bowen,” Barrett surmises as she digs in her purse for her Chapstick.
“No,” I laugh, brushing her off, “if he were here and saw all those guys he would’ve been sitting here at the table.”
“You’re right,” Barrett shrugs, “Bowen would do it out in the open where everyone could see.”
I entertain the alternative for a brief moment. On one hand, Bowen probably wouldn’t be happy that I asked some rando to be my fake boyfriend to deter a stalker—a stalker he believes is Colson and has said as much. On the other, I would much prefer that it was Bowen breaking Wells’s face, especially after what he did.
But the fact remains, Colson or not, someone is still breaking into my car, sending me drinks with creepy notes, and lurking in close proximity with a knife.