Chapter Sixteen
Chiara
The next days go by in the same way, Lucas shows up at the coffee shop, orders his coffee while trying his best to rile me and stalks me to whichever place I go. The bookstore, the grocery store, I can even feel his eyes on me in the street, although I refuse to turn around to acknowledge him.
Today the coffee shop is bustling with activity, and I welcome the distraction that helps me divert my focus away from my personal stalker. In fact, the café is unusually crowded, there is hardly a free table. I frown. It has never been this full on a Thursday morning.
It takes me about ten minutes of weaving between tables, serving lattes and muffins before the realization hits me—almost all of the customers are women.
I have never seen most of them here before.
All of them are dressed up to the nines, their voices and laughter tinkling in the morning air.
And suddenly it all becomes clear when I see all their gazes drawn in the same direction.
I don’t even have to look, I know.
Lucas is in his usual seat at the back of the café, casually leaning against the wall, his long legs stretched out. He is sitting there without doing anything and yet he is attracting every gaze in the room, his presence commanding and impossible to miss.
My jaw tightens. It was to be expected. I push the annoyance down and busy myself behind the counter when everyone is served at last.
Then it happens—Kristen Mayers, former cheerleader and self-proclaimed queen of the town’s Social Committee, slinks up to his table.
I do a double take. She is dressed in a short, tight, shiny dress that belongs more in a club than in a coffee shop on a weekday morning.
Her heels click noisily over the café’s floorboards with every step, drawing everyone’s gaze.
She positively basks in the attention. She stops barely an inch from Lucas’ table, her calves almost brushing his outstretched legs.
I freeze mid-pour, hot coffee filling the cup dangerously close to the rim. When I finally notice, I hastily put the jug down and pick up a dishcloth and a cup to start drying it, trying to look inconspicuous.
“Mind if I join you?” Kristen purrs, leaning on the table. The movement pushes her ample cleavage forward.
Oh please, here we go again. I inwardly roll my eyes.
I can’t hear his reply, but the brief, cold flick of his eyes he sends her is not inviting nor flirty. If anything, he looks irritated.
Huh? That’s unexpected.
She laughs anyway, tossing her sleek blonde ponytail over her shoulder and slides into the seat across from him.
I try my best not to stare, but my ears are straining to hear what they are saying. Despite myself, my gaze keeps darting over there as I pretend to be busy.
“So…you are new to town I heard,” she says, voice confident and husky. “I was thinking I could show you—”
“No,” comes his curt reply and I almost drop the cup I am drying.
My eyes snap up and our gazes collide. Lucas is still leaning with his back to the wall, ignoring Kristen.
His eyes are on me, intense and burning.
My pulse stutters and heat creeps up my face.
I quickly lower my head, angry at myself for having been caught prying.
“Excuse me?” Kristen’s voice is something between a shocked cry and a whine.
“You’re wasting your time. I’m not interested,” comes Lucas’ bored reply.
I’m pretty sure the whole room gasps in dismay at the brutal rejection. Kristen flushes crimson and mutters something before shooting up and scrambling away as fast as her dress and heels allow.
I blink, standing frozen behind the counter, heart pounding loudly in my ears. What the hell just happened?
I whirl around and pretend to busy myself with the register.
But as much as I try to pretend, I can’t ignore his gaze burning through me, scorching my skin.
I am confused, trying to make sense of what I witnessed.
My hands are shaking and my heart keeps pounding in my chest until the end of my shift.
After I close the coffee shop, I stop at the local store for some groceries.
My mind is still spinning from the day’s events as I try to reconcile the flirty and sunny Lucas, the Phoebus from before, with this sullen version of him that turned up and upended the tranquility of this town.
As if on cue, his massive SUV pulls up and takes the spot in the middle line behind my car and remains there like a threatening shadow.
I grit my teeth and lock the door, not sparing him a glance.
He can follow me around all he wants, I won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much it annoys me.
I exhale in relief when I step into the store, feeling freed from the weight of his gaze at last. As tempting as it is to linger in the store and hide, I’ll just quickly grab what I need—produce, tea, bread and milk—and be gone.
Except, I don’t make it past the canned food before a voice behind me calls out my name.
“Cara, dear!”
I turn around and force a smile when I take in Gloria Henderson, the lady who owns the flower shop, and her friend, the new widow from the next street over, walking toward me.
“We were just talking about you.” Gloria beams at me with bright eyes and a calculating smile. “And your…visitor.”
My stomach drops. “My visitor?”
Gloria leans in conspiratorially but goes on so loudly that the whole store must hear her. “You know, the tall, young man, blond hair, handsome face and body built like a lumberjack.” They both snicker at each other like she made the joke of the year.
Just perfect. I keep my face straight although I begin to feel lightheaded as my pulse speeds up. Before I can catch myself, my eyes dart toward the parking lot where I catch a glimpse of Lucas casually leaning against his car, arms folded and watching the store like a wolf waiting for its prey.
Heat prickles the back of my neck.
“Oh, honey, don’t play coy.” Gloria lightly swats her manicured hand over my arm. “We’ve seen him in your café every day in a row this week.”
“He’s gorgeous,” the widow states dreamily, “like some actor from those television dramas, you know, all intense and dangerous energy.”
I pull a face. If only she knew how dangerous.
“It’s all so mysterious,” Gloria goes on, “it’s like he’s following you around. Do you know him, perhaps? Is he family, a cousin maybe?”
“He’s not family. He’s nobody, just a customer,” I snap a little too loudly.
They both look at me with a calculating gleam in their eyes. I toss a bottle of milk in my basket so hard it crushes the loaf of bread underneath.
“He drinks coffee, pays and leaves, that’s it,” I grit out through clenched teeth.
“And he waits for you outside the grocery store?” Gloria’s brows lift.
Before I can come up with a plausible explanation, her friend the widow chimes in. “If that man were following me, I wouldn’t be complaining. And I certainly wouldn’t make him wait.” They both cackle, and I throw a hasty goodbye over my shoulder as I all but flee from them and their gossip.
By the time I reach the register, my hands are shaking so bad I struggle to pull out my purse. But apparently fate isn’t finished with me. The cashier, a young girl barely out of high school, leans closer, eyes glued to the windows.
“Um… Ms. Bailey?” she whispers, “do you know the guy outside?”
“No,” I snap. What’s her name again? Lorie… No Lauren. She’s the older sister of one of the girls I teach, and I’ve seen her a few times when she picked her sister up from my classes.
But she doesn’t buy it for a second, she’s practically glowing, cheeks pink and eyes bright as she fumbles with the register. “Because…wow! He’s like, ridiculously hot. And he hasn’t taken his eyes off the store since you walked in.”
I want to sink into the floor.
“Is he your boyfriend or something?” she asks tentatively.
I almost drop my grocery bag. “What? No!”
She hesitates then blurts out, “Do you think you could…um…give him my number? He’s parked right behind your car, so you’ll see him, anyway.” She scribbles her number on the back of a receipt and shoves it into my hands with a shy smile.
I nod, dumbstruck.
Perfect. Just great. Now I’m playing middle-woman for my stalker and his teenage crush fan club.
Rage doesn’t cover the feeling of red-hot lava coursing through my bloodstream when I march out of the store.
Lucas straightens and takes a step forward toward me as soon as he spots me.
I stomp right up to him and slap the piece of paper against his chest.
“Congratulations, you’ve got a fan club.”
His eyes briefly flick to the store then to the slip of paper in his hand.
He slowly crumbles it in his fist and lets it fall on the asphalt, eyes locked on mine.
For a beat neither of us speaks, then I pull myself together and stomp to my car.
But before I can open the car door, he is standing behind me, crowding me against my car door and cages me in with both arms braced against the roof.
He’s not touching me, but I am trapped, nevertheless.
My pulse beats loudly in my ears as I slowly turn around.
“You think I’m here for anyone else?” he asks in a low, dangerous voice, as he leans closer. His eyes are burning through me with dark intensity.
For what feels like a lifetime, his gaze holds mine, making my knees go weak and my chest heave with every strained breath. Then my anger surges again. “I don’t know what you are here for, and I don’t care. Get out of my way,” I hiss, shoving at his chest.
And he lets me push him away, standing there, unbothered, while I yank open the car door and throw my purchases on the passenger seat before sliding in the driver seat and slamming the door shut.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him still standing there when I drive off, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles hurt, face flaming and heart racing.
Damn him.