Chapter 3
Three
It was a short walk to The Wrap, known for baking their own bread and serving only fresh-sourced meat and produce from local farms; it had long been a local favorite. The smells met her before she reached the building, making her stomach rumble in anticipation of something good.
Air-conditioning washed over her as she opened the door. She groaned when saw the long line of people waiting to be seated. Ever since Don hired his daughter, Becky, to come work for him, the place was no longer a best-kept secret. Good news for them, but bad news for Whitney.
Becky had revamped the menu, making a new twist on “It’s a Wrap,” which was originally just a description of the flatbread and tortilla sandwiches they served. She’d taken it a step further, incorporating a movie theme into everything. They announced orders over a microphone accompanied by the loud slap of an oversized movie slate that startled Whitney every time.
She missed the days she could zip in and out with her favorite food. She exchanged a finger wave to Becky, who was talking to the next group waiting to be seated. Becky marked the tablet, then motioned Whitney to the side.
“Takeout tonight?” she asked.
“As usual.”
“What can I get for you? We’re slammed, but I’ll see if I can move your order up in the line.”
“That would be great. I was trying to decide between the quinoa power bowl or the southwest chicken wrap.”
“You always get that wrap.” Becky’s eyebrows pulled together. “I’d order tonight’s special. A free range chicken breast baked in local honey and lime, and a Caprese salad. You’ll love it.”
“I’ll take it.”
Becky scribbled the order on the pad and handed the receipt to Whitney. “You can pay at the bar, so as soon as it’s done, you can dash.”
Before Whitney could thank her, Becky swished off through the crowd toward the kitchen.
Whitney made her way to the edge of the new martini bar that now replaced the old smoothie station.
People were willing to wait for more than an hour to experience the organized chaos, which was why Whitney was currently stuck waiting.
“I just need to pay for my takeout order really quick,” she shouted over the noise while waving down the bartender.
“Sure,” he ambled over in no big hurry. “I’ve seen you in here before. You work up the block, don’t you?” He took the ticket and ran her credit card.
“I do. Yes.” Whitney preferred the days when Rufus was at the bar making smoothies. She was sorry she ever complained about the constant whirring of the blenders now. The martini shakers were a lot more annoying.
The bartender shook his long, wavy, brown hair back over his shoulders. “Here’s your receipt, and a little advice for free: You must be a really good lawyer because you’ve just made my heart plead guilty to falling for you.” He winked and then strolled off.
Where the heck had he come up with that line?
Finally, the movie clapper sound came over the intercom and a server shouted, “It’s a wrap, Whitney!”
“That’s me!” She threw her hand in the air and pushed through the throng of people to pick up her food. At just over five-feet tall, Whitney couldn’t even put an eyeball on the guy holding her to-go order as she shuffled and scooched across the room.
But just as she reached the server, she watched someone else walk off with her food.
“Wait!” Whitney yelled. “That’s my dinner. I’m Whitney.”
The server looked at her in a panic, then pointed to the tall redhead who was practically out the door.
She glared at him. “That was mine. The special? Honey lime chicken breast and Caprese salad?”
He looked at the ticket in his hand. “Yeah, that was it. Sorry. That never happens.”
She swallowed back the angst of yet another delay. “Fine. Can you just bring me something from the kitchen so I can get out of here? I’ve got work to do.”
Becky rushed over. “What’s wrong?”
Whitney swung around, regretting her outburst. “It’s fine. Someone took my order. I’ll just take whatever you can pull together quickly.”
“Oh, Whitney, I’m so sorry. I know how busy you are, and you’re one of our favorite customers,” Becky said. “Let me comp the meal.”
“Really, it’s okay. I’m not even picky. Can you just grab me something, anything, from the kitchen?”
“Yes, yes. I’m on it. Give me two minutes. Stay right here.” In no time flat, Becky came back carrying a large white bag with the logo on it. “Here you go. We’re so sorry. We still have a few kinks to work out in the new process.”
“I’m all set now. Thank you.” Whitney walked out of The Wrap with the bag, glad to be out of the crowd.
She had taken only a few steps when thunder rolled, nearly vibrating the streets. The sky darkened as clouds gathered.
Trying to beat the threatening storm, she picked up her pace, but the sky opened up. Icy raindrops left a shiver in their wake. Ducking her head, she kicked out of her high heels, clutching them in her free hand. Repositioning her takeout closer to her body, she hoped the paper bag wouldn’t burst.
At the intersection the flashing crosswalk symbol was a blur of orange.
She brushed the back of her hand across her face, looking both ways when a kaleidoscope of color came careening in her direction.
She arched to the side, tucking her shoulders to protect herself from the object sailing toward her.
Something bumped her, sending her off balance.
Not something. Someone. It was like slow motion as a man’s arm stretched out across her, catching her at the waist before she went completely off balance; then with his free hand, he caught the colorful umbrella midair.
Surprise left her tongue-tied, and trying to catch her breath.
The stranger helped bring her to her feet.
Stunned, she collected herself, looking up into the deepest green eyes she’d ever seen. Unsure if they were beautiful or filled with trouble, she pulled away with a “Thank you.”
“Are you okay?” Concern filled his words, but the low pitch of his voice against the pounding rain calmed her.
She nodded. “Yes, thank you. How did you?—”
“Timing.” He handed her the umbrella.
“It’s not mine.” She was captivated for a split second.
“May as well be. It seemed to be hunting you down.”
She shivered. Her dress clung to her skin, and the storm wasn’t letting up.
Rain ran over him, the water a dirty, bluish gray over the light blue shirt he wore.
“That was a close call.” He looked up. “Storm came out of nowhere.”
“It did.” She steadied the umbrella in the hand with her shoes, lifting it in appreciation and not wanting to insult him by handing it back. “Thank you.” A bolt of lightning brightened the sky, accented by thunder that made her shriek. “And here I am, holding a lightning bolt.”
Their eyes met, and she stood there a moment too long. “Thank you. Gotta run!”
She took off, not stopping to look back until she was almost at her office. There was no one else on the sidewalk. He was gone just as fast as he’d appeared.
The Barron, Winters Wall building was just across the street.
She stepped inside the foyer. Drenched, she squeezed the dripping water from her hair and the bottom of her dress the best that she could. Hoping not to slip on the marble, she tiptoed by the waiting area.
The chill of the air-conditioning against her wet skin sent goose bumps up her arms. She hurried into her office and closed the door. Thank goodness she kept a couple of changes of clothes in the closet to always be prepared. One for the gym, which rarely got used, and one business attire, along with jewelry that could go either way.
She got the towel out of her gym bag and blotted herself dry enough to change into the khakis and matching top with a chocolate brown belt, then pulled her hair up into a wet, messy bun.
With a sigh, she sat down at her desk and unloaded the bag. She hoped dinner wasn’t going to be a soggy mess. Luckily, the to-go containers had protected it. She spread the food out on her desk. The honey lime chicken had a lovely glaze, and she was instantly hungry again as she noted the perfect grill marks. She took a bite and scrolled through emails; only, her mind kept wandering back to the storm and the chance encounter with the man on the street.
Timing, he’d said with quiet confidence. And boy was it perfect timing. He’d appeared out of nowhere.
That umbrella had been soaring straight for her.
How was it possible that he’d caught it?
She paused mid-bite, catching herself in an introspective pause. A gentle flush warmed her cheeks as his image interrupted her thoughts. An involuntary smile played on her lips as she recalled the way their eyes had locked. His were the deepest green she’d ever seen on a man. She returned to her meal, but there was something sexy about a hero, no doubt about it.
Or maybe she was overworked and had just imagined it all. Well, except for the rain. Her wet clothes and hair were proof that part had happened.
She tossed the rest of the food into the trash can, laughing at how distracted she was. I need to get a life.
She grabbed her keys, stuffed her wet clothes in a trash bag, and went to see if it was still raining. From the lobby she could see that the rain had drifted off as quickly as it had arrived. Only a few puddles remained in the gutters.
She wished she’d thought to ask her rescuer his name. Had she even said thank you?
“Thanks, stranger,” she said as she glanced back down the block and crossed the street.