CHAPTER 9 #2
I paused for only a moment, not wanting to give away my shock at seeing her here. But there she was. Forcing myself on, Bee and I stepped toward the ghost that had haunted me for days. I tried my best to appear unaffected.
She leaned casually against the back wall, an empty champagne glass in one hand and a towel in the other. She was frozen in her action of drying it, staring back at me. Like a statue, she was perfectly still, as though hoping I wouldn’t notice her.
I could feel Betty eyeing me at my side, following my gaze before she hummed in recognition.
“Who’s that?” she crooned in that annoying way only a sister could.
The woman’s eyes flitted to where Betty and I linked at the elbow.
A flash of something crossed her face before it was gone again.
She averted her gaze after a quick look back into my eyes.
She was trying to avoid our electric connection, but her body betrayed her.
Her cheeks blazed red. I couldn’t help but smirk at her obvious discomfort—her obvious admiration.
I cleared my throat as we neared. “Well, look who it is.”
I stepped up to the counter dividing us, leaning my free arm along the top. There was a tray of drinks there. I grabbed a champagne, handing it to my sister before taking a bourbon for myself.
My sister glared daggers at me as she took a sip from her flute, eyes filled with questions. Bee did not appreciate being left out, and this was the second time in as many days that I’d done so.
“Betty, this is one of our neighbors,” I filled in, drawing the neighbor’s gaze back to us.
Betty’s brows rose as she slid her gaze over the woman. “A neighbor?”
I gestured to my sister then, the woman’s gaze following my hand. “This is my sister Betty—not my date.”
Betty smacked me, and I smirked, bourbon sloshing a little before I took a big sip as though to shut myself up. It was a good bourbon.
“Smooth,” she chided. “You’re such an ass.” She stepped in front of me, bumping me back from the counter and blocking me out. “My brother is an ass. I apologize. Ignore him.” Betty put on her sweetest smile. “What’s your name?” she ventured.
The woman didn’t reply.
I chanced an elbow to the ribs as I leaned close to Bee’s ear. “She’s working the event. The staff can’t talk,” I whispered, loud enough that we all could hear.
That seemed to coax a small, tight smile from the neighbor that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Well,” Bee went on, “‘neighbor’ it is, I guess—for now.”
Wanting to fill in more of the story for Bee’s sake, I added, “Her dog Bill and I are becoming good friends, but I haven’t gotten Bill to tell me her name just yet. So far, its just been a lot of barking and window licking.”
Bee scoffed and pushed her hand in my face, edging me further out of the conversation.
“Just ignore him. I’ve been dying to find more people our age on our block, but, tragically, everyone seems to be old and crotchety.
Comes with the territory, I suppose. Old, rich New York and all.
You’ll definitely need to come over for wine one day and we can chat about all the old bitties and their old bitty drama. ”
She drained her champagne and placed the empty glass on the bar, grabbing a fresh one. “I could really use a friend, and I promise you, I’m fun,” Bee went on.
The woman blinked at her a few times, looking shell-shocked, but gave Bee a tight nod.
Progress.
Having my wing woman wasn’t such a bad thing. Bee could ease anyone’s emotions by putting all the attention on herself, which in this case appeared to be a good thing.
The group behind us finished looking at the painting, and they were crowding our backs again. Irritation nipped at me. I wanted more time with this tiny enigma, but I was also sure more opportunities would arise.
Bill had shown me where she lived this evening, and with Bee now interested, easy. Bee was desperate for a friend, but always failed in that department—she scared them off by chatting them to death. Right now, though, it seemed to benefit her in the presence of this shy beauty.
I placed my hand on Bee’s shoulder. “We should go,” I pressed.
Bee gave our neighbor another sweet smile and a little wave. “Well, I hope to see you again, neighbor.” She winked. “I’m serious. Let’s get together!”
The hint of a smile was making an attempt on the woman’s gorgeous coral lips. It was adorable. I let my gaze linger on hers until she glanced away, showing her I was not about to give up.
I took Bee’s arm and led her away and out of the space before she embarrassed herself any further.
A tingling sensation ran down my spine, prickling my skin. It was as though someone had plugged me in. Electricity coursed through me at seeing the woman again. A tether formed tonight, unbreakable and sure. Fate was telling me not to leave, to stay near her because that’s where I needed to be.
“Nash, where did she come from? I don’t recall seeing her around the neighborhood.
” Betty tipped back the contents of her second glass, handing it off to another server that walked by.
“I mean, wow, she’s gorgeous! I would not have missed seeing her if I had,” she admitted, loud enough that I’m sure everyone heard.
I kept pulling her away before I responded. “She is gorgeous,” I agreed in a whisper.
Bee gaped at me in shock before giving me a wry smile. It’s not something I admitted very often.
“How do you know her dog?” she went on. “That’s kinda weird.”
We stopped on the street after we’d exited the venue. I touched my arm where the leash had left a rope burn, remembering the moment well.
“The other night, I ran into her after the heist, like, literally. I was on my way home. Her dog got tangled around me. He nearly knocked the painting right out of my bag.”
Her eyes got big, and she giggled. “Holy hell, I’m sure that was exciting.”
I nodded. “Yeah, she seems really shy, but her dog is anything but.”
“Very shy,” Bee agreed with a nod. “She’s so tiny, too!”
I gave her a teasing nudge. “Compared to you, yeah.”
Bee shoved me. “Don’t you dare, Nash.”
“Speaking of food, are you hungry?” I asked, part teasing, part serious.
“For the love of—” Bee began, but conceded with a defeated sigh. “Yeah, of course I am.”
“Good, let’s feed you, then.” I smiled.
Bee smiled back. “Your favorite thing to do, feed me.”
“What kind of brother would I be if I let you starve?” I hooked her arm in mine once more.
When our mother died, it’d fallen to me to take care of Bee. Our father was a busy man—very loving—but very busy. It was my responsibility to fill the role my mother left vacant.
Besides, my father was never quite the same after losing my mom; they’d loved each other as though they were two halves of the same whole. I didn’t want to see Bee suffer because of his sadness. I wanted things to stay the same, full of love and optimism.
For that reason, Bee lived with me and had since, having the entire floor above the parlor floor to herself. I enjoyed being the older brother and taking care of her, and I suppose that part of me was what drew me to the neighbor, too.
Something about the mysterious beauty screamed for love and attention, and this part of me longed to take care of her. Perhaps it’s what I’d inherited from my father, a need to provide and nurture. He’d been a very caring husband, and I’d learned a lot from that.
Real men took care of the women in their lives.
A woman’s strength grew fierce when she was fed, supported, and secure.
Women deserved a pedestal to stand on. Any self-respecting male like myself would pounce at the opportunity to bring light to those eyes and a smile to her face, and treat her like the sun to their moon.
I could tell that being in her orbit was a gift worth working for, and that’s exactly what I planned to do, now more than ever.