Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
E sme
Valentine’s Day.
The day of unrequited love.
The day where more people got engaged than almost any other night. Maybe with the exception of Christmas. I’d never been a fan of the holiday and tonight was no exception.
The over-the-top groom had lured his soon-to-be fiancée to a huge and festive party at the winery with all the trimmings. He’d spent a small fortune including flying her parents out from San Francisco, putting them up in a suite at the Hotel Roanoke, a huge and recently renovated historical hotel in the heart of the downtown.
He’d also rented the penthouse for him and his lovely hopeful bride to be complete with expensive champagne, chocolates, and rose petals covering the bed.
She’d been shocked alright, the moment she’d walked into the winery thinking she was doing a Valentine’s wine tasting to find seventy-five friends and family members eagerly waiting for him to pop the question.
“In my opinion, the dude is a nerd,” Jenny whispered as she crept beside me. We were both now guilty of hiding in the shadows, spying on the entire event. Yes, I wanted to make certain the guests enjoyed their food and they had, raving about it, but now it was all about voyeurism.
Jenny Talbot was by far the best waitress. Quick, sassy, and able to take my shit. Granted, I was slightly biased since she’d trained and helped out Bella when my bestie had lied about who she really was.
I looked at the poor guy in an ill-fitting tuxedo he’d probably rented at the last minute. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“And that girl. Geez. She’s freaking beautiful. What does she see in him?”
“Opposites attract,” I said as I leaned in. I firmly believed in that too. Not because Hunter and I were completely unalike, but because I’d seen it dozens of times. Oh, why did I need to think his name?
“I guess you’re right. It’s almost midnight. Can’t he get on with it? Oh, look, he’s feeding her strawberries and whipped cream in front of everyone.”
“Yeah, if a guy did that to me, I’d punch him in the face.” I heard a male chuckle and turned my head. Well, if it wasn’t my boss spying on me.
“I hear that. I would too,” Jenny agreed. When she noticed Hunter standing in the shadows, she groaned. “Back to work.”
I remained where I was, still watching and more than curious what the girl was going to say. Hunter moved closer, which surprised me. It had been so awkward between us since last night. First, seeing him at the bistro, then literally running into him in the hallway. Even as I’d passed him at least ten times before and during the event, neither one of us had done so much as look at each other.
What were we really trying to accomplish? I had no idea, but I felt uncomfortable and electrified being around him.
“What do you think? Will she say yes?” he asked a few seconds later as the dude finally got up on the stage, taking the microphone away from the singer.
“It will be a shitshow if she doesn’t. Imagine the pressure.”
“Yeah, imagine. Did you hear about Bella?”
I turned my head. “What about Bella?”
“Jagger is popping the question tonight.”
“Oh, God. I knew it. I hate this holiday.”
“Me too.”
“Why do you hate it?”
“What’s not to hate? There’s pressure on the guy to find the right present, to set the right mood. To shower his woman with roses that cost a fortune, to drink cheap champagne, and to perform all. Night. Long.”
My bad girl side kicked in all over again. “Sounds about right.”
“You would say that.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?”
“Oh,” he mused. “You’re definitely a woman. What woman doesn’t like the frills, bells, and whistles?”
“Are you kidding me? You’re a chauvinistic pig if you really think that way.”
“Well, what do you prefer, whips and chains?”
I got in his face, unable to help myself. “Compared to stinky roses? Hell, yes.”
It dawned on both of us that it had suddenly gotten very quiet in the room. We turned our heads together, realizing the reason was our loud conversation. Oh, goodie. I was batting a thousand today.
The guy in the horrible tux was glaring at us, even tapping his foot.
Hunter waved as if telling the crowd we were finished bickering. I planted one hand over my face, trying to keep from groaning too loudly. Even my old boss hadn’t gotten so far under my skin. Maybe because the guy had repulsed me.
It was quite the opposite with Hunter.
He’d changed, now wearing black slacks and a black shirt. He was celebrating the holiday on his own terms. I liked that about him. A bad boy personified.
“Do you own a motorcycle?” I suddenly had to know.
He wrinkled that sexy brow of his. “Why do you ask?”
“Just answer me.”
“A Harley.”
“I knew it.”
Our attention was pulled back to the dude with the microphone as he pulled the girl on stage. She was acting the right part, but I had a sense she was faking being surprised.
Bella wouldn’t act that way. I’d be able to hear her scream of joy miles away.
“Here we go,” Hunter whispered in my ear and his hot breath cascaded across my neck.
The mean girl that had obviously taken root inside me wanted to push him away. But the bad girl longed to pull him closer. I decided to remain neutral.
“Cory, the love of my life, the woman who gives me reason to get up in the morning, suffering through work and the long drive. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Well, he got the down on one knee part,” I chortled.
“If she says yes after that atrocity, I think I’ll be sick.”
A few seconds passed and I could see everyone in the audience was leaning forward. In my mind, I was chanting: No. No. No. No.
Cory started to squeal like a stuffed pig, throwing both her arms and her legs around him. As the audience stood and clapped, cheering as if their team had just won the Superbowl, I turned toward Hunter.
“I’m with you. I hate this damn holiday.”
It was nights like tonight I wished I owned a cat or a dog. Maybe I’d put that on my list. I’d lived in a tiny apartment in Baltimore, which hadn’t seemed the right place for a pet to live. Everything here was different.
I was sitting on my favorite couch, one of the few pieces of furniture I’d brought with me. It was fluffy and floral, which matched my personality perfectly. With my feet propped up on my coffee table, a glass of wine in my hand, I could finally relax.
Only I hadn’t been able to do so.
It was all because of Hunter.
Damn it. I’d sucked down the wine fast enough. Well, if I couldn’t relax, I’d hang the awesome picture I’d found with Bella earlier in the day. Who needed sleep? It was already well after two. The team had cleaned up after the event, which had allowed me to sneak out early. As if you could call this early.
I headed to the kitchen, also reminding myself to hang the blinds I’d purchased for the window. While I was out in the country, I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone being able to look inside, seeing what I was doing.
Especially in the dark.
The wine remained on the counter and I decided it was okay to have a second glass. I’d worked hard. I’d endured Hunter’s presence. I yanked on the cork, glancing out the window at the same time. What the hell was that?
A light?
No, I had to be seeing things. Maybe the moon. Except that it had been a cloudy day, snow even in the forecast.
Nope. I wasn’t going to start freaking out. I’d learned how not to do that. I took a deep breath then chugged right from the bottle to calm my nerves. When I looked again, I saw nothing. I was tired. I’d worked pretty much four weeks straight. It was entirely possible I was seeing things.
That would be a perfect ending for today.
I pushed the wine back against the backsplash, shoving the cork back in, but I had a feeling the entire bottle would be finished tonight.
The light in the kitchen was far too bright. I turned it off. That didn’t make me feel any better or make it seem less creepy, the shadows in the kitchen creating all kinds of monsters. Bella had even cautioned me about moving out so far, but I’d wanted an entirely different start, a fresh and exciting perspective on life.
Plus, the cabin had been available right away and the price was right for my meager budget. The asshole back in Baltimore hadn’t paid me nearly what I was worth. With the wine in my hand, I took a couple of strides backwards.
There it was again. I wasn’t imagining things. Oh, fuck. I moved more stealthily toward the window, hopeful whoever was outside couldn’t see me inside. There was a flashlight. I wasn’t dreaming. While the person didn’t appear close, my nerves still jumped to being on edge.
This was how it had all started. A dark night. Quiet. Too close for comfort.
“You’re not going to do this. It’s not the same. He can’t hurt anyone.”
My fingers of one hand found the edge of the counter, all five immediately stiffening. Aching.
A flash memory crashed into my mind and I sucked in my breath.
“Mom. Dad? Are you home?” I tossed my purse onto the sofa, shoving my keys just inside while listening for any sounds. Finally hearing music coming from the family room, I had to smile. My parents were creatures of habit. Dad coming home at five-thirty. A cocktail or two while Mom finished dinner. Food on the table at precisely six-thirty. Retiring to the family room to read or talk about their days. Music until they watched television from eight-thirty until nine. Then lights out.
It was just another weekday in their version of paradise. I was later than normal, the ugly darkness outside prepping for a storm. I’d left my laptop here accidentally after helping Dad learn more about graphic art. Hopefully, I wouldn’t interrupt their daily routine by too much. It unsettled them.
Or so my mother had told me.
I headed for the kitchen, still able to smell the delicious spaghetti sauce Mom had made earlier. She made the best sauce in the entire world. She was the reason I’d become a chef. The kitchen was sparkly clean except for a broken glass on the counter. What? Why was there a broken glass? A strange sense of fear furrowed into my system as I walked closer. A substance covered a portion of the jagged, sharp edges.
Blood?
Shit. One of the two had cut themselves.
“Mom. Dad? Are you okay?” With more urgency in my step, I headed toward the family room.
A noise.
What had I heard other than the booming bass drums of whatever they were listening to? The entire situation made me cautious. I tiptoed closer to the room, peeking inside.
Whoosh.
Boom!
The hard hit came out of nowhere and I was knocked to the floor.
Fuck, no. “You are not going to do this.” Making the statement out loud brought me out of the memory. Panting, I felt a bead of perspiration trickling down the side of my face, my mind continuing to spin to every unwanted place I’d worked so hard to drive from my life. No. It was the past. The asshole couldn’t hurt me.
Not like he’d already done.
After taking several deep breaths, I sensed a slight calm sweeping through me. Finally, I felt more in control.
I checked the lock on the window. It was engaged. I took another gulp of wine before placing the glass on the counter. As I raced to the back door, I slunk along the side, reaching out to check. There were drapes covering the sliding door. That was the very first thrift purchase I’d made. The wide-open glass wasn’t something I could tolerate even for a single night.
Not this girl.
Not after the nightmare she’d been involved in.
At least the door was also locked. I headed to the front door finding the same. When I rushed into the bedroom, I almost killed myself tripping over the clothes I’d left on the floor in my hurry to get to work.
To my horror, the window wasn’t locked. I was positive I’d checked it earlier. Oh, God. Had I? Or had I forgotten?
It was too cold to have the windows open, although I had the first day to air out the place. Was it possible the window had been unlocked for almost two months?
Oh, my God. I scrambled into the bathroom and guest room I was currently using as storage. Thankfully, they were locked.
There was the light again. Was the person closer?
Should I contact the sheriff’s department?
Shit. They’d think I was nuts. Whoever was outside wasn’t that close. There was another house along the road behind me. Maybe the person was looking for something. Did I want to be labeled a kook? All the sheriff needed to do was to look up my name and I’d have a new label for how to handle me.
The girl who’d suffered a horrible tragedy.
No, I would call Bella. She’d have a clue who was living behind me. I rushed back into the kitchen, grabbing my phone. Only to remember the girl had just gotten engaged.
I couldn’t call her.
Even I wasn’t that crass.
Who else?
Oh, God. There was only one person I could contact at this point. Was it worth Hunter smirking for the rest of his life? I held the phone to my head. He didn’t even know I’d snatched his private phone number. Oh, I could just hear him barking at me.
Crack!
Oh, fuck. I jumped several feet into the air. It was a limb hitting the house. Nothing more. I’d heard it before. My list of to-dos included cutting the goddamn limb off the pretty tree that was way too close to the house. I managed to laugh even if I’d already accepted there was no chance in hell of getting any sleep tonight.
Maybe Hunter could come over to have a drink with me. That was plausible. Right? It didn’t sound too weird even at two-thirtyish in the morning. We worked nights sometimes. Long hours. Our relaxation time was completely off the grid. He’d understand.
Right. Do you remember how you left the conversation?
Oh, that. It had been flirting. Both of us. The call would just be an affirmation. In my mind there were lights all around the house, some asshole trying to break in. I took quick steps toward the coffee table, grabbing my phone. Just hearing his voice would help. That’s all I needed. Nothing more.
We were friends.
He would help.
As I dialed his number, I felt calmer.
He was my friend and we would never, ever acknowledge that thing we’d done again.