Chapter Eight Hailey
I check my reflection in the rearview mirror one more time, smoothing down a strand of hair that woke up and chose violence. My hands are shaking slightly, and I grip the steering wheel harder to steady them.
It’s just dinner. Just a casual dinner with a super fucking hot guy to talk about home security systems.
Except it doesn’t feel casual. Not with the way my stomach flips every time I think about seeing him again, or the extra twenty minutes I spent picking out what to wear, finally settling on dark jeans and a soft-green sweater that Rachel insists makes my eyes pop.
I grab my purse and step out of my car, locking it. The street where I’ve parked, just down from the restaurant, is well lit and busy with Friday evening diners. Safe. Normal.
Not the kind of place a person could get away with leaving a note on my windshield unnoticed.
I’ve tried not to think about it, to convince myself it was just some random creep being weird. But I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that someone’s watching me.
The cool evening air hits me as I walk the half block to Antonio’s. The restaurant sits on a quiet corner, its warm light spilling onto the sidewalk through large windows. String lights are draped across the outdoor patio area, though it’s too cold tonight for anyone to sit outside.
Through the windows, I can see Cole already seated at a table near the back.
He’s looking at his phone, so I take a moment to appreciate the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair falls slightly across his forehead.
He’s wearing a dark button-down shirt that fits him perfectly, and my mouth goes dry.
Pull yourself together, Hailey. It’s too early to lose focus. You can’t spend the entire dinner with your legs pressed together, trying to ease the ache.
I take one last deep breath and push through the door. The teenage hostess greets me with a smile.
“I’m meeting someone,” I say, gesturing toward Cole’s table. He dominates the curved banquette, even though the table is big enough for four.
“Of course! Go right ahead.”
Cole spots my approach, and the smile that spreads across his face makes my knees weak. He stands immediately, and—is he taller than I remember?
“Hi,” I say, suddenly feeling shy.
“Hey.” He extends his arms for a hug, but waits for me to step in and accept it.
I grin, wrapping my arms around his waist. He lets out a satisfied sound and pulls me in tight.
We stand like that for a few seconds, during which I enjoy the hell out of his clean, sandalwood scent.
“You look beautiful,” he says, a hand on my lower back to encourage me to sit.
He’s perfect. Hot and perfect. I’m fucked.
Heat rises to my cheeks. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.”
He laughs, a warm sound that eases some of my nerves. “Well, I figured I should probably wear something nicer than my hiking clothes or office attire.”
“The climbing gear was a good look, though,” I tease, settling into the booth. He slides in beside me.
A young female waiter appears with menus and water glasses, giving us a moment to look over our options. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch the way he studies the menu. He’s giving it his full attention, furrowed brow and all.
“The pasta is supposed to be incredible,” he says. “Homemade. But honestly, everything looks good.”
“It smells incredible.” I glance around the restaurant, taking in the dim lighting, the soft piano music in the background, the couples scattered throughout the space. “It’s really nice, but not too fancy.”
“That’s what I was going for.” He sets down his menu and offers his hand, palm-up, on the table between us. I don’t hesitate—just slide my hand into his and enjoy the way warmth blooms between us. “It’s really good to see you again, Hailey.”
Our thighs brush, sending a chill up my spine. Goose bumps rise all over my body, including my legs, which I shaved specifically for this date.
Not that anyone will be touching my bare legs this evening. Why would they? I’ll be totally clothed until I’m home, alone.
Probably.
“How are you feeling after your work week?”
“Exhausted but good. It was a pretty average week—busy, but no major traumas.” I take a sip of water. “And now I have four whole days off, which feels like a lifetime.”
“Do you have plans other than this?”
“I’m not sure yet. Rachel mentioned wanting to see a new rom-com, but I’m not really into movie theaters. They’re kind of gross.”
Cole grins. “You don’t like sitting in the same chair a thousand people have dropped popcorn and candy into?”
“That, and I know what I did in those chairs when I was a teenager.” I almost shudder thinking about the pimply peach fuzz on Ben Greene’s face in the twelfth grade, but the thought falls away when Cole’s fingertips skim my upper arm, returning me to the present.
I instinctively reach for him, letting my hand drop onto his upper thigh.
My lips part at the soft click of his throat when he swallows, his Adam’s apple falling, then rising.
Fuck, he’s hot.
The waiter returns to take our orders. I choose the butternut squash ravioli, and Cole orders the bolognese over rigatoni. When we’re alone again, there’s a moment of comfortable silence.
“So,” I begin, “you think you can help me with a security system?”
“Right. Yes.” He leans forward to pull out his phone, and I let my hand fall away.
But he pauses to pointedly place my hand back exactly where it was before he opens a document and shows me his screen.
“I put together some information for you. Nothing too overwhelming—just a few different options depending on what you’re interested in. ”
True to his word, it’s organized and straightforward. Each option has a brief description and pictures. I can’t believe he did all of this for me. The thoughtfulness and care that went into this effort…it makes my breath catch.
“This is really helpful,” I say, gratitude making my voice tight. “You put a lot of thought into this.”
“I wanted to make sure you had good information to make the right choice for yourself.” He scrolls down. “The basic option would be door and window sensors—they alert you if someone tries to open them when the system is armed. Pretty straightforward and easy to install.”
“And the mid-range?”
“Adds smart locks and a camera for your front door. You can see who’s there from your phone, lock and unlock remotely if you need to. A lot more peace of mind.”
I nod, studying the screen. “What about the top option?”
“Full system with multiple cameras and motion sensors, more like a professional monitoring service. It’s somewhat expensive, but if someone’s genuinely threatening you…
” He trails off, and I can hear the concern in his voice.
He wants me to tell him more, but he isn’t actually asking.
When I don’t move into the opening he’s left, he says, “It might be worth it.”
Our appetizer arrives—antipasti to share. As we pick at the plate, Cole walks me through the pros and cons of each system with patience, not once making me feel stupid for my questions, even when I ask him to explain technology that probably seems like child’s play to someone like him.
“The thing is,” I say, wiping my hands on my napkin, “I don’t know how seriously to take this. The note could have been random. Maybe I’m overreacting.”
Cole’s expression grows serious. “What did it say? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I hesitate, then decide he deserves honesty if he’s going out of his way to help me. “It said ‘I’m watching you.’”
His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “That’s not nothing, Hailey.”
“I know. But I work in an ER. We deal with unstable people all the time. Sometimes they fixate on staff members. It usually passes.”
“Usually?”
“Usually,” I confirm, though my voice lacks confidence.
He leans closer to me, letting his voice dip to a whisper. “Has anything else happened? Besides the note?”
I think about Lars Winters knowing Chewy’s name. The constant feeling of being watched. The toll it takes on me.
“There’s a patient who comes in regularly,” I admit.
I continue carefully, unwilling to compromise patient confidentiality, even for someone as god-awful as Lars Winters.
“An addict looking for drugs who gets aggressive with staff. They’re…
I don’t know. Something about them feels off.
They mentioned my pet ferret’s name, even though I’ve never told them about Chewy. ”
“How would they know that?” he says, carefully adopting the same pronoun I used.
“That’s what I can’t figure out. I’m always so careful.
” I shake my head, then buy myself a little time by slowly chewing a fat, green olive.
The tangy brine and sharp burst of salt on my tongue help ground me here, at this table, and not at the side of my car seeing the note for the first time.
I keep getting pulled back to that moment, try as I might to leave it in the past. “It’s probably nothing.
They could have overheard me talking to a coworker, maybe? ”
“Or they’ve been looking into you.” Cole’s voice carries an uneasy edge. “They could be following you. Watching your patterns.”
The bluntness of it makes my stomach drop, even though I’ve been thinking the same thing. It feels more real when someone else says it out loud.
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions,” I say quietly.
“Better to be overprepared than underprepared.” He must see something in my expression, because he softens and relaxes his shoulders, picking up my hand in his. “Sorry. I don’t mean to scare you. I just… I don’t like the idea of someone threatening you.”
The protectiveness in his tone sends a warm flutter through my stomach.
“I appreciate that.” I meet his eyes and squeeze his hand right back. “And I appreciate you taking the time to help me figure this out. I’ve been feeling pretty alone with it.”