By the time I reach the bar where I’m meeting Justin, my entire left side feels like it’s been hit by a bus, and a headache has set in. I should cancel. I should tell him I’m not feeling well and go home to rest. But I won’t. I’m far too stubborn for that.
I take a second by the door to collect myself. I fixed my hair and makeup in the cab, but I haven’t given myself time to get my shit together, and for some reason, I feel like I need to. I don’t have any grand ideas of Justin being the one or whatever, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to give him a chance, especially because he’s the only guy to make me say yes to a date in years. There must be something about him, right?
That’s what I tell myself as I push the door open to Amber’s, a bar Wynter and I used to frequent when we needed to get out of the office for a few hours. When Justin suggested the place, I agreed straight away because I like to be in familiar territory. After so many years moving around, never staying in the same place for too long, I crave the things I know and the places I feel comfortable.
The decor is more modern than you would expect when standing on the curb looking at the row of slightly beaten-up shops and houses, and it’s one of the few places in this city where I feel at ease. I moved around a lot growing up, but we never lived in big cities. Our targets were always in small towns where there would be less press and where the police had limited resources. Moving to Chicago was a big change for me, and I found solace in places like Amber’s, which has a small-town feel despite being in the big city.
I cast my eyes across the busy bar and a smile tugs at the corners of my lips when I meet Justin’s dark gaze. His deep-brown eyes hold mine as I cross to the table he’s sitting at, and my cheeks heat under his attention. I’m not used to people looking at me. In fact, I’ve done everything in my power to stop exactly that from happening since I moved here, but there’s no escaping it.
“I’m so sorry I’m late!” I carefully lower myself into the seat across from him and hope the pain isn’t too evident on my face.
“I’m just glad you could make it.” He beams. His smile seems even bigger with the stubble on his sharp jawline and his perfectly shaped cheekbones. He looks like he just stepped out of one of those men’s health magazines, so what could he possibly want with me? “Have you heard from Wynter?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. Everett sent me a text to let me know they got to the hospital okay, but I haven’t heard anything since.”
“Can I get you a drink?”
I hesitate for a beat, a wave of uneasiness washing over me. I don’t normally trust men to get me drinks, and I also don’t usually drink. Do I trust Justin enough to allow him to get me a drink without me watching him like a hawk?
“A cosmo would be great.” I smile.
“Coming right up.” He grins and slips out of his chair. He gives my shoulder a squeeze on his way past and the bare skin tingles long after he makes it to the bar.
What the hell am I doing here? I should have gone home. I should have canceled and spent the night alone. My body aches from where I fell at the warehouse, and I suspect when I pull the dress off tonight, I’m going to find bruising all up my side from the impact.
Idly, I wonder how mad Tommy is. He looked fucking furious when he saw me walking toward the door, so I can’t imagine he’s happy about me going against his orders, but I still don’t understand why he cares at all. He has no obligation to me, and yet the fire in his eyes when he pinned me against the wall, the way my skin buzzed under his touch, it plays on my mind on a loop no matter how hard I try to tamp it down.
My thoughts are interrupted when Justin slips back into the seat in front of me and pushes his dark-brown hair back from his eyes. It always seems perfectly styled in the office, but tonight it’s a little more mussed, and I’m almost relieved to see him look something other than completely perfect.
“The bartender will bring it over.”
“Thank you.” I give him a shy smile. I wish I was one of those women who’s confident and good with the opposite sex, but sadly that’s just not me.
“I’m glad you agreed to come out with me. You normally avoid me in the lunchroom.” He chuckles.
“Sorry.” I half laugh, but the blush of my cheeks grows deeper. “I’m a bit of an introvert if I’m honest.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” he deadpans and it drags a giggle from my throat.
I haven’t been out on a date since college, and even they were few and far between, but his lighthearted banter allows me to relax into the soft seat.
We talk about his family and friends, his favorite running route through Millennium Park, and the comic books he collects, but every time he tries to ask about myself and my past, I deflect. He’s lived such a normal life. Grew up with parents who had good, stable jobs and lived in the same house all his life. He went to an Ivy League school and majored in accounting. And then he got a job at Frost Industries straight out of college. He’s lived the life I used to dream of as I slept on a mattress on the floor of whatever shitty apartment we were holed up in for that month.
“You keep dodging my questions,” he calls me out, but there’s a soft smile playing on his lips.
He’s not being mean about it, but he’s curious and I can’t fault him for that. We are on a date, after all, and from what I can remember from that short time in my life, there has to be some push and pull.
“There’s not much to tell.” I shrug even though it’s a lie. There’s too much to tell and too much that will send him running.
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
I worry my bottom lip between my teeth and take a heavy swallow of my second cocktail. Chad, the owner, makes the best cosmos and I would sit here all night drinking them if I could.
“I didn’t have a great upbringing,” I admit. “We moved around a lot and my parents were…challenging.”
It’s as diplomatic as I can be without outright telling him they’re con artists who have ripped off people across the southern states of the country and didn’t stop until I ran and finally broke free of the hold they had on me, but I refuse to relive that part of my life.
“Aren’t they all?”
I laugh despite the uneasiness rolling around in my belly at the reminder of my parents and the life I lived before I moved here. I put myself through college and swore I would never go back, never allow anyone to call the shots in my life again.
“I suppose so.”
“What about school? Friends?”
It shouldn’t irritate me how hard he’s pushing, but it does. He’s doing what any man would do in this situation.
“Hold that thought.”
I push to my feet and bite the inside of my cheek to keep my face neutral through the pain. Jesus Christ, that asshole did a number on me.
“I’m just going to pop to the bathroom.”
I don’t wait for his response before taking careful steps toward the back of the bar. The more time that goes by, the more my body aches, and all I want is to go home and have a long, hot bath. It’s not something I indulge in very often, but I need it after the day I’ve had and the months that lie ahead of me. Being the CFO of a company like Frost Industries is a lot of work, and even if I’m sharing the responsibilities with Snow, I have no doubt that the next few months are going to be rough.
I push the door of the ladies’ room open and step into the clean white space. Chad redid the bathrooms last year and they’re immaculate. The white tiles still shine the same way they did the day they were put down, and the gold hardware is somehow still scratch-free. I step toward the cubicles but quickly find myself tugged against a hard body and terror slams into me like a freight train.
A scream climbs up my throat, but before I can let it out, a large hand presses against my mouth and silences me. This can’t be happening.
