Cocky Bastard(48)

When the doors slid open, I got out, leaving Aubrey in the elevator with the ball in her court. I just hoped she didn’t choose to deflate it.





Chapter Seventeen


Was it even considered stalking anymore once the victim became clearly aware of the stalker’s presence? Now that Aubrey knew I was in town, it was a totally different experience with the risk of getting caught removed from the equation.

Over the next week, I was basically just camping out in Temecula hoping for a miracle. The only real stress was the wait for her to contact me. I’d check my phone constantly, thinking that maybe I’d missed her. But she never called.

Not wanting to piss her off more than I already had, I made a decision to take a break from showing up outside her office for a few days. Instead, I worked out hard at the gym all morning, taking my frustrations out on my body. I hadn’t touched a woman in over two years, and the only one I wanted was apparently taken and hated my guts. So, pumping iron was my way of coping with it until I could get her back. I only dreamt of all the ways I could take everything out on Aubrey instead.

After the gym, in the early afternoons, I’d head to her house and continue the landscaping there. Someone had to take care of it, for Christ’s sake. I laid down mulch, planted and put in two princess flower bushes. Who knew there was such a thing as a princess flower? They were the perfect choice.

The neighbors were used to seeing me working. With my pickup truck and mower in the back, they just figured landscaping was my job. My skin was now a shade darker after working for days in the sweltering heat. More and more mothers with strollers were walking by lately, too. I’d wave to them with dirt on my hands. These new female spectators seemed to be multiplying by the day.

The best part, though, about spending the afternoons at Aubrey’s was my time with the goat. Always waiting at the window, he’d come to expect me.

Pixy.

I still had to get used to calling him that.

I’d bring him lunch. We’d eat together. I was becoming unhealthily attached to the smell of his breath mixed with freshly-cut grass.

Stinking Bugger.

My nighttime schedule was the same as always. I’d head to the bar and unleash all of my troubles onto Carla Babes.

One Friday night, however, there was a surprise change in my routine. I was sitting on my stool at the bar when Carla asked, “What did you say Aubrey looked like?”

“Why?”

“Just describe her to me.”

“Petite but curvy, wavy auburn hair, wide eyes, creamy skin…”

“Does she have a leopard print coat by any chance?”

I scratched my chin and remembered she was wearing one into the office one morning. “Yeah…yeah, she does. Why?”

“I think she was just here. Some chick fitting that description was looking over at us through the front window. I just made eye contact with her, and she took off.”

I turned around. “What?”

Carla waved her hand towards the door. “Go after her.”

Without thinking, I hopped off my stool and ran outside. Sure enough, Aubrey’s Audi was exiting the parking lot. My heart was racing as she sped down the road. Since I’d walked to the bar, I couldn’t even follow her. My little lead foot Princess jetted away too fast for me to stop her.

I took out my phone and scrolled down to her number to send a text.

Chance: Who’s stalking who now?

There was no response. After a few minutes, a return text came in. My heartbeat accelerated.

Aubrey: It was a coincidence.

Chance: Don’t text while driving.

Aubrey: Why did you text me then? And don’t tell me what to do.

Chance: Pull over, Princess.

Aubrey: I wasn’t stalking you.

Chance: Don’t text me again until you’ve pulled over.

Staring down at my screen, I just stood there in the parking lot. After several minutes, the phone vibrated again.

Aubrey: Is that what you do every night? Troll bars around town for women?

Chance: Are you parked?

Aubrey: Yes.

Chance: I’ve only been trolling around town for one woman. Said woman drives me to drink. Thus, the bar.

Aubrey: I wish you’d just go home. Stop texting me.

Chance: Stop texting? I figured you’d like the vibration.

No response.

That might have taken it too far. It was too soon to joke with her like we used to. I sent another text, giving her the honest response to her request that I go home.

Chance: My home is where you are.

Aubrey: You burned down our home in Vegas after you fucked me and left.

It fucking hurt so badly to see those words. I stared at them for almost a full minute before responding.

Chance: There was a reason I did what I did and I need to explain it to you in person. I won’t do it over text.