9. Elias
It had been a week, and Elias was happy to say that he had forgotten all about Kate.
That was a big fat lie.
He wanted to say he had forgotten all about her, but the truth was he couldn’t get her out of his head. She haunted his house and his bed. He may have even slept with the pillow she used on one or two occasions (or three or four) because he imagined he could still smell the scent of her shampoo.
‘Where are you?’ Justin’s whisper hissed through his car speakers.
‘In traffic,’ Elias replied, tapping the steering wheel of his Ranger impatiently.
‘How far away are you?’
‘Fifteen minutes at the most,’ Elias replied.
Justin huffed. ‘Fine. I’ll stall.’
Even though he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her, he hadn’t let it hold him prisoner. Elias refused to mope around his house, even if it was exactly what he felt like doing. Justin kept him busy at the gallery. His exhibition was garnering a lot of interest, and the requests for commissions were coming through thick and fast. Justin had even been approached to set up an interview with Elias for a national art magazine.
Justin was loving all the attention, and Elias was just thankful he had someone to run interference.
Elias had even made time to get back into his workshop. Not the one attached to his house, but his main workshop, which was in an industrial complex near the airport. It was definitely not a place he would bring prospective clients. It was why he bought the house in Paddington, but the plans to renovate the shop were taking longer than he liked. It was mostly his fault. He hated to admit it, but he was scared to pull the trigger on it. Working out of an industrial space and having a gallery owner be his middleman meant he could maintain his anonymity. Having an actual shopfront would legitimise him and his business and would make him responsible if it failed.
At least he was making art again. Usually after an exhibition, he took a few months off to recharge and refill the creative well, but he’d woken up two days ago with a burning desire to make something. He still wasn’t sure exactly what he was creating. With no looming deadlines, he allowed himself to just… play. The piece might turn out to be worth nothing more than the scrap metal that went into it, or it could turn out to be a masterpiece. He didn’t know, and that made it exciting.
Was he burying himself in work to help him forget Kate? He refused to acknowledge that on the grounds he might incriminate himself. For now, it was working… mostly. Sculpting with metal was tiring on the body, and that meant when he got home at night, he could fall asleep pretty much as soon as his head hit the pillow.
It didn’t stop the dreams, though. Not that he was complaining about the dreams. His only objection was that the woman remained firmly in his dreams instead of materialising in his bed.
Spying the entrance to the parking garage around the corner from the gallery, Elias clicked his turn signal on and ducked into the driveway. The turn was tight, or maybe it was just that his truck was big, as he wound down the levels to the designated parking spot. The Ranger probably wasn’t the most city-friendly car, but it made transporting materials a damn sight easier.
The elevator brought him out a few shops down from the gallery, and he hustled toward his destination. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a swish of blonde hair, and he turned instinctively. It had been happening a lot. He kept seeing Kate everywhere.
Except this time it really was Kate.
He came to a sudden stop, causing the person behind him to run into his back. He apologised absentmindedly as he looked through the café window to the woman who had rocked his world and then walked right out of it without looking back.
Kate.
She was sitting at a table with a pot of tea, and across from her was a douchebag of a man. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t a douchebag. It was hard to make that determination just from looking, but the fact that he was sitting across from her and looking at her like she was a tasty treat automatically made him a douchebag in Elias’ eyes.
His fists clenched at his sides, and he gritted his teeth.
Was Kate seeing someone? Had she already been seeing this guy when she slept with him? The thought burned in Elias’ gut. He should be used to being the sidepiece, but he thought Kate was different. He’d thought what they’d shared was different.
Wait.
Kate wasn’t married, was she?
Elias closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to think about this rationally. Sure, he didn’t know Kate very well, but he doubted she was the type to cheat. When he opened his eyes again, he took a better look at the two of them. He was an artist. He had been people-watching for as long as he could remember. He thought of himself as a bit of an expert on body language—thanks to growing up in the Beckingsale household he’d learned to read micro expressions in order to avoid conflict whenever possible.
Kate’s posture told him that she was friendly with the guy but… but also professional. Was he a colleague? A fellow doctor? She smiled at something he said, but it wasn’t the same smile she’d given him that night. Kate did not look at this guy in any way that was similar to the way she’d looked at Elias.
It puffed him up a bit. It was definitely an ego boost.
Elias turned his focus to the man and curled his lip. The guy was definitely showing interest. If he was a peacock, his tail feathers would be on full display, and he would be performing a mating dance. But Kate didn’t seem to notice.
Ha.
Elias’ phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. Yes, he knew he had a client waiting but… it wouldn’t hurt to stop for coffee on the way, right? Spilling piping hot coffee on Dr Douchebag wouldn’t be bad either.
He wouldn’t do that, of course… not on purpose… but accidents happen.
Elias did a quick scan of himself. He’d dressed up for the client meeting, or at least dressed up as much as he ever would. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but he’d washed and styled his hair, his beard was groomed, and his clothes were clean and wrinkle free, mostly.
Elias pushed through the doors into the café and paused. He scanned the tables, allowing his eyes to linger on Kate before moving away. Did she know he was there? Had she felt his presence like a disturbance in the force?
He second-guessed himself for a moment. What was he doing? She had made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with him. Actually, she hadn’t, but her ghost impression had done the job. So why was he chasing after her like this? He should just chalk it up to experience and move on. What possessed him to walk into the café?
He was just about to turn around when he felt it. Her eyes. She’d seen him. He wanted to look at her, but he didn’t. Keeping his focus firmly on the menu board, he ignored her. With long, purposeful strides, he crossed to the counter and smiled his most charming smile at the server.
Kate wanted to ghost him? Fine. He would show her it didn’t bother him. He would also show her what she was missing out on.
‘An iced Americano,’ he said to the server. He shifted to the side to look in the sweet cabinet and then looked back at the server. ‘What do you recommend? I’m after something sweet but not too sweet, if you know what I mean.’ He winked.
Ugh. Kill him now. Just what the hell was he doing?
The server blushed and babbled something. He agreed to whatever her suggestion was and handed over his card. Shit. Now he would have to eat something sweet, and it was the last thing he felt like.
He moved to the end of the counter to wait for his order and pulled out his phone. He scrolled mindlessly, using it as a prop to stop him looking at Kate. Was she still watching him? Or had she not even recognised him?
It was eating him alive. Keeping his head down, he raised his eyes to look in her direction. She was staring at him.
‘Elias?’
It was the barista calling his name. Not Kate. Of course not Kate.
He smiled as he took the cup and pastry bag. The barista looked at him meaningfully, and he noticed the phone number written on the side of the cup. His smile widened, even if it was the last thing he felt like doing, and he lifted the cup in salute as he strode back out of the café and down to the gallery.
Fuck. What the hell did he just do?