9. Pearl Davis
9
Pearl Davis
I’m reading a cozy mystery book while sitting on the couch, but my mind is fixated on the door, waiting for Robyn to come in so I can give her a piece of my mind. If she hadn’t insisted on me seeing Zane in front of Kendrick, none of today’s embarrassment would have happened.
The sound of the lock turning draws my full attention to the door.
Robyn bursts in energetically. “I’ve never been more excited to come home. My best friend met my hockey hero. Spill, tell me everything.”
I just shoot her a pointed glare.
“What’s wrong? You look like you’re ready to tear into me. Did I do something?”
“You bet you did. In fact, you did a lot wrong. Who sends their best friend into the lion’s den without a warning?” I throw my hands up in exasperation.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Robyn’s brow furrows in confusion .
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Robs.”
“Oh no, is this about Zane Ortiz? Is he fierce off the ice too? I thought his aggression was confined to the rink and the other teams always start the fights. Did he say or do something to you?”
I roll my eyes. The Zane I met couldn’t be further from aggressive. I can’t even imagine him getting into a scuffle, but I can certainly see him charming every woman in sight.
“You didn’t prepare me for what he looks like.”
She giggles. “Oh, I warned you all right. I said he was pleasant to look at or something like that.”
“Robs, you said he was easy on the eye, and maybe on the ice he is. But in person, he looks like a menace to women trying to find their godly men. And worst of all, he knows it .” I almost gag as memories of his stubborn smirk and less-than-cute lopsided grin come to mind.
Robyn squeals. “Goodness, P. Are you crushing on Zane Ortiz? Don’t worry; there’s an entire online fan club swooning over him. You’re not the only one falling for his charm. Bedford is full of women like you.”
“Me? Crushing on a hockey player? You have the wrong number. I mean, sure, he looks like a model and movie star combined, but he’s a predator. I hated every minute he was in my office,” I exaggerate, trying to make a point. I did enjoy his scent; that was nice. But it was also threatening, drawing me closer. But that wasn’t intentional. Or at least I don’t think it was. Every comment, the way his gaze pierced me—it was all torture. I wish I had never laid eyes on him .
“Did you get hit on by Zane Ortiz?” Robyn fans herself, biting her lower lip. “I’m gonna scream. I’m gonna lose it. Lose it ,” she singsongs.
“He tried to get my number. It was so annoyingly predictable.”
“So, this doesn’t sound like a therapy session if you’re telling me all this.”
I huff and shake my head. “He can’t be my client. For all the reasons I told you and Kendrick last time, and now, on top of that, he’s danger incarnate.”
“You’ve been hit on by your clients, clients’ parents, and some really handsome men. Why are you so worked up over Zane? You’re not even a fan of his. Do you maybe think you felt something for him?”
“Robs, drop that thought right now. I’ve dated enough pretty faces to know better than to give someone like him a second thought. I kept it professional the whole time.”
“Are you saying I can kiss my dreams of meeting Zane Ortiz goodbye?”
“Absolutely. Forget about it because I’ll make sure we never have to see each other again.” I rise from my chair and make my way to the kitchen. Dinner isn’t going to cook itself.
“You non-hockey fans are such grumps,” Robyn shouts after me.
I roll my eyes. Robyn thinks she’s invincible to heartache because she’s never fallen for anyone who could break her heart. She can’t possibly understand what it was like to meet Zane. It wasn’t just about his looks; there was something about him that drew me in, something I managed to resist only by the skin of my teeth.
After two successful sessions with my clients and a meeting with a social worker, it’s already lunchtime, which means Randy’s customary coffee and danish—or perhaps today I’ll opt for a scone. I often ponder whether I should make healthier lunch choices, but then I remind myself that my regular living room workouts grant me permission to indulge in a treat every day.
I stroll down the street to my favorite coffee shop, and the welcoming chime of bells greet me as I enter. Joining the queue, I take a moment to check my phone. While I’m not active on social media platforms, I do participate in a church group and often receive updates on the week’s activities and messages from the youth ministry that I sometimes lead.
Out of nowhere, a familiar husky voice startles me from behind. “It’s your turn now,” Zane’s voice rings out. I jump in surprise, turning to find him wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses, and an all-black outfit straight out of a magazine.
“What’s your deal looking like a robber?” I tease, masking the fact that seeing him sends my heart racing.
“Trying to blend in and avoid attention.” This explains his choice of shades indoors but he’s got it all wrong, black makes such a statement. I’m surprised he doesn’t know this.
“If you don’t want to stand out, you should try neutral colors,” I suggest, motioning to my own champagne jumpsuit. I don’t typically do bright colors either, but my office is an exception—I want it to be inviting, especially for the children who come to process their thoughts with me.
I quickly realize how absurd it is that I’m fixating on his incognito outfit choices. This is the second time we’ve accidentally bumped into each other here, and today feels less like a coincidence.
I turn back from placing my order with Randy and glare at him. “What are you even doing here?”
He raises his arms in mock surrender. “This is a public place, you know. You’re making it sound like I broke in or something.”
I give him another once-over to remind him that his outfit doesn’t exactly scream innocent bystander.
“I’m here at Randy’s every single day around this time, and I’ve never once spotted you.”
Zane just shrugs. “Happy coincidence. I come here often too.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is this where you come to take selfies with your fans?”
He quickly gestures for me to lower my voice and steps closer, setting off alarms in my head. That scent again—citrus and spice. I instinctively take a step back, only to be stopped by the counter. I can’t handle any more of this .
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t like to be seen in public. It creates chaos. Can we sit in that corner?” he asks, indicating a secluded spot where he was likely sitting, a coffee already on the table.
I feign glancing at my watch. “I have to get back to my office.”
“Can I at least walk you back?” he insists, his eyes hopeful.
“No need, it’s just around the corner,” I reply with a forced grin, eager to make my escape as soon as possible.
His smile falters for a moment, but he quickly recovers. “I just wanted to ask about my referral. Maybe we can talk about it later over dinner?” he suggests too casually.
The audacity of this guy! He’s clearly not used to being told no, but I refuse to be another notch on his belt.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I find you someone,” I say through pursed lips. “I’ll need you to trust me on this.”
“I trust you, Sweet P. I just need you to trust me too and let me take you to dinner.” He flashes me with his charming smile that leaves me breathless for a moment.
Wait what . “How do you know my nickname? Did Robs talk to you?”
“Your nickname is Sweet P?” He facepalms himself. “And I thought I coined a unique name for you. Who is Robs? Your boyfriend?”
I roll my eyes, growing tired of his games, and grab my order and stride past him, ignoring his pleas to meet for coffee tomorrow. As I walk to the door, I can feel his eyes boring into my back, but I refuse to let him see how much he’s rattled me .
Back in my office, I sink onto the couch, replaying the awkward encounter in my mind. I can’t understand why he’s so fixated on me when there’s a queue of girls obsessed with him. It frustrates me how he revels in making me squirm, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me crack. He’ll tire of this game long before I do.