It's not just me seducing her, though. She's completely seducing me, and she has no fucking clue she's even doing it. Since this is the first time in my life I've ever experienced something like this, I want to savor the feeling. I want to commit it to memory, because I'm bound and determined to fuck it up somehow. This is all probably too good to be a long-term reality for someone like me.
Taking my iPhone out, I turn it on to do a quick check of my messages. I immediately see a text from Sutton and my heart sinks a little.
Have to cancel lunch. Emergency with one of my kids. OD. Have to go to hospital.
I stare at the message, contemplating how to respond. A terrible feeling of worry for Sutton rolls through me and I feel lost. I have no clue what to do, what to say. The way I've come to know Sutton over the last few weeks, I know that she is probably overwhelmed with concern for this kid and probably scared shitless.
And there's probably not a damn thing I can do about it.
"Something wrong?" Garrett asks.
Turning to look at him, I say, "Sutton had to cancel. Looks like one of her kids overdosed so she has to go to the hospital."
"Damn. That sucks. She has a tough job," he commiserates over his shoulder as he heads into the nearest shower stall.
I absently nod and send her back a text.
What hospital? I can come there.
I wait a few moments for a response but nothing comes through. I see her original text was sent not long ago so she's probably driving. Putting my iPhone back, I decide not to worry about it for the moment and head into a shower.
***
Checking my watch for what may be the hundredth time in the past hour, I peer down Sutton's street, looking for some sign of her car. I've been sitting on her front porch step for about an hour, hoping she'll come home at some point.
She and I were texting back and forth for a few hours, but now I haven't heard from her in several hours. It's getting dark and I'm getting worried.
Darkness I can handle. The worried part is a feeling I can definitely say I do not like. I have no clue why Sutton hasn't texted me back. I learned that the kid who overdosed was stable and that Sutton would be staying awhile so she could talk to her. She hoped to be home around dinnertime, but that was the last message I got from her. After a few texts to her to ask if I could see her tonight-because again worried about her and want to make sure she's okay-I gave up after she didn't respond to the fourth one and just decided to stalk her house instead.
A car engine purrs in the distance and I can see headlights approaching. Standing up from the bottom porch step, I walk down to her sidewalk to get a better look. When a white Audi sports car comes into my field of vision, my heart slumps because I know that is definitely not Sutton's bucket of bolts.
Rather than pass on by, the white car pulls into Sutton's driveway, but with the headlights on and dusk waning into night, I can't tell who's in the car.
I don't have to wait long because the driver's door opens and a guy gets out. He has short brown hair and he's neatly pressed in khaki pants and a pink button-down shirt. Rounding the front of the car, he walks toward me on the sidewalk.
"Can I help you?" I ask, intent on asserting my position on Sutton's doorstep.
"Is Sutton here? I need to talk to her," the man says casually as he approaches me. Once he steps into the yellow glow of the porch light, he can finally see me clearly and he says, "Holy shit-you're Alex Crossman."
"Last I heard," I respond dryly. "And you are?"
The guy gives me a huge grin and leans forward, sticking his hand out to me. "I'm Brandon James. Sutton's boyfriend."
My teeth clench even as I take his hand to shake, and before I can even address the fact that he has asserted himself as Sutton's boyfriend, he rambles on. "Well, actually ex-boyfriend, but we've reconnected and I'm hoping to make something click again. I just … I can't believe I'm standing here talking to Alex Crossman. Sutton told me she was working on some type of project with you, right?"
I start to tell him I'm here on personal business but he doesn't give me an opening. Moving at lightning speed and before I can protect myself, the douche jumps toward me, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. "Hey … I got to get a picture of me with you."
Before I can protest, he slings an arm onto my shoulder and attempts to pull me down toward him, holding his arm outstretched with phone in hand.
"Selfie!" he yells just as the flash goes off, and I want to strangle the dude. I would, if I could in fact see, but the damn flash has me temporarily blinded.