Before I reach the bar, footsteps echo behind me. Katie might not’ve been spying on me yesterday, but I’m pretty sure Dad’s had me tailed for a while. Someone reporting back to him. Telling him of my sins, all the times I drink, stay out too late, or spend too much money.
Dad controls the money with such a tight fist he became paranoid. He drove Mom out a long time ago, and a part of me has never forgiven him. With that same control and paranoia, he’s close to losing me too.
Purposefully, I take my time in front of the shops. While fingering a T-shirt, casually, I glance back. Someone ducks into the crowd. He’s getting sloppy. Whoever it is.
At the last second, I duck into The Salty Dog. Hopefully this’ll lose the guy. I sit at the bar and order a shot. It’s early, but no one would judge if they knew my dad. If they did, they’d buy me the next one. And the one after that.
Thirty minutes later, the shot glass still full, still sitting in the same place, I leave. I can’t go see Dad without a clear head. Just in case.
As soon as I step out, I feel the eyes on me. Damn. I’m going to have to teach this guy a lesson. I speed up. I slow down. All the way to my bike. Then I jump on and race away. See how serious he is about following me. How much is my father paying him?
I whip around the strip three times, then screech into the last parking lot. My bike kicks up the dirt in the lot. A yellow bug pulls in after me, not exactly the hired-investigator kind of car. I storm over, not caring, not thinking. As soon as the door opens and I see the flash of blonde hair, my stomach sinks. I can’t believe I fell for her sweet innocent act. My accusation comes out hard and mean. “I thought you weren’t working for my father?”
Her breaths are shallow and fast. “I’m not,” she gasps out. “You were driving like a demon straight from hell. No wonder you got in an accident the other day.”
“That wasn’t my fault. The other guy veered into my lane.” I growl. “Now why the hell did you follow me if my dad didn’t hire you?” Everything she told me over coffee, all the lies I bought, cause my body to shake as the anger at being the fool courses through me.
Tears glisten on her eyelashes. Her eyes blink and she knots her fingers together. After lowering her head, she peeks back up at me, biting her lip, before speaking. “I was worried about you.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Just what I said. I was worried. I sat with you and talked with you because, well, you looked like you needed a friend. Then you rushed out and all we talked about was me and the other night.”
I stare into her eyes, unblinking, her fathomless eyes that are like a cloudless day and I could see forever. This girl couldn’t lie if she wanted to because I’d see right through her. Time to squash this before it turns into anything, before she thinks I like her. “Or maybe you still want me to show you some excitement.” I laugh bitterly. “Well, there you go. You got some. Now go back to your nice, easy life.”
I walk back to my bike. Time to meet with good ole Dad. I’m just about to hop on my bike when she lightly shoves me from behind.
“What is your problem?” she asks, eyes flashing.
I wiggle my fingers. “Watch your temper.”
She takes a few deep breaths and controls her anger. I’m in awe. It takes me a lot longer than some messed-up breathing technique to control myself.
“Why don’t you believe I might just care because I’m a decent human being?” She steps closer to me. Her hair drifts across her face, a strand clinging to her lips. “Maybe I care because I’ve never experienced the kind of kiss like I did last night. Maybe I want that. Maybe I care because I saw the hurt and hopeless look in your eye this morning. And I know when someone needs a friend.”
I can’t find the right comeback. Her words pierce my defenses. When was the last time someone cared? She saw right through me this morning. I never let anyone see that part of me. Ever. It took her less than a day. I close my eyes to get her out of my mind. The strands of hair that I want to touch. The body I want to press against mine. The lips I want to kiss again.
She touches my stomach. I suck in a breath. She walks around me, her fingers trailing a path on my skin. She stops right in front of me, inches away. The smell of honey and vanilla invades my senses and overpowers the smell of the briny salt from the sea. Her soft hand caresses my cheek. Her thumb traces my lips.
“For one who claims to be so innocent, you sure seem to know what you’re doing.”
“Or maybe,” her voice is shaky, “it’s just you bringing it out in me.”