Chapter Four

 

“Where are you?” Carrie asked.

I held the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I unloaded my bag of items onto the conveyor belt at the health food store. “Guess,” I laughed.

“Are you making Carter another healthy dinner?” she asked cheerfully.

“No, just picking up stuff for myself,” I groaned.

“I thought your date had gone great,” she questioned.

“Maybe not as great as I thought.” I tried laughing off my disappointment.

Carter had called that night, letting me know he made it home safe, and thanking me for the dinner, movie, and what he teasingly called dessert.

Our contact had been very little since then, mainly just a few short texts, and a few moments while he was on patrol.

“I’m sorry, girl. Maybe he just wanted to get laid; he is a man, after all,” Carrie laughed.

“Yes. A hotter-than-hell man. Ugh, I should’ve just done it,” I growled.

Carrie’s laughter lightened my mood and made the cashier give me an odd look as she eavesdropped on our conversation.

I paid for my food, told Carrie I’d call her later, and started across the parking lot to my car.

“Hey,” Greg’s familiar voice caused me to turn around.

He was walking towards me, his arms puffed up like balloons, and his neck nearly lost in his shoulders. “Greg, you’re not supposed to be near me,” I reminded him.

“Fuck your little pig’s paper,” he laughed.

“What do you want?” I asked, pushing my groceries into my backseat.

“I saw your little piggy’s truck in the driveway last weekend,” he scoffed.

I should’ve known one of his little spies would’ve been watching.

“You stalking me now?” I asked, giving him a warning look.

“I don’t need to stalk you. I figured you’d give it up to get yourself outta trouble,” he snarled. “Gotta keep em’ close enough to get away with assault,” he chuckled.

I couldn’t imagine what I’d seen in him. He wasn’t what I’d consider good looking, at least not now. He was in great shape, but his muscles were becoming more of a disfigurement than a flattering asset, and his eyes were filled with anger and hate. “Greg, you need to leave before I call the cops,” I warned.  “You were the one who assaulted me, and my bruises proved that,” I added, turning to walk towards my driver’s door.

It was the first time—well, second time—that I’d been afraid of Greg. With my back turned on him, there was a nagging feeling that he’d lunge for me, or grab me by my ponytail before I got into my car, but he didn’t. I watched him walk away toward his truck as I sat in the driver’s seat, staring into the rearview mirror. He was just jealous, not dangerous. Whatever that was at the house when Carter had saved the day, it was over, never to happen again.

I was still shaken as I continued to convince myself that Greg wasn’t a threat when my phone rang, startling me. It was Carter, just a little late to interrupt my encounter with Greg.

I slid my thumb across the screen to answer, excited that he was calling. Maybe he wanted to make plans, I thought. Man, what I wouldn’t do to be in his strong arms where my world felt safe.

“Hello,” I answered, my voice still a little shaken.

“Hey there, everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes. You’re just a few minutes late,” I chuckled nervously.

“Late? For what?” he asked.

“I just saw Greg as I left the store,” I explained.

“Did he approach you?” he questioned.

“Yeah. He was pretty nasty, too, but I reminded him of the restraining order, and he left,” I stated, leaving out the part where he scoffed at the paper.

“I can call it in, have him picked up,” Carter said, his voice strong with authority.

“That’s not necessary. Why add fuel to the fire?” I replied calmly.

“Are you sure?” he pushed.

“I am.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch much this week. My schedule’s been a bear, and I haven’t known my hours from day to day,” he apologized.

I was relieved that he had a good excuse. The fear that my rejection had scared him off, or that he was only interested in getting into my pants, had been making me sick.

“It’s been hectic here, too,” I said, calming down from my encounter with Greg.

“Well, they finally gave me a night off,” he said.

I could almost hear his smile through the phone. “Oh, yeah?” I flirted.

“Oh, yeah. And I would love to spend it with you. I know it’s short notice; if you’re busy, I understand,” he said quickly.

His words warmed my heart, and my crotch, making me squirm in my seat.

“No. I’d love to see you,” I agreed.

“Great. I was afraid you were mad at me for coming on so strong,” he admitted.

I laughed. “Not at all,” I replied, omitting the part where I feared my rejection upset him.

“Why don’t I bring you dinner? I really don’t want you at home alone tonight,” he suggested.

I paused, hesitating to answer.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Dating a cop wasn’t going to be easy. It seemed his senses were keen, and hiding my anxiety wasn’t going to happen. I sighed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I admitted.

“Did you want to go out?” he asked.

I was sore from work, and going out didn’t seem appealing. I wanted to stay in, to snuggle on the couch and finish where we’d left off, but knowing Greg had spies watching my every move left me uneasy.

“No. I would love to stay in. It’s just, well, Greg mentioned your truck, so either he or his buddies that live next to me are watching my house,” I groaned.

“Naomi, you really need to let me do my job. He’s crossing the line here, watching you, or having you watched,” he insisted.

“I really don’t want to stir him up. I think it’d be easier if ignored,” I pleaded.

“I’ll respect your wishes, but just know that if he approaches you again, I’m doing things my way,” he warned.

A chill of excitement rolled down my spine as he spoke with such conviction. “Yes, sir,” I teased.

“Would you like to come here?” he asked.

“Oh, I get to see Officer Reynolds’ bachelor pad; are you sure you want me to see that?” I teased playfully.

“I’ll cover the mirrored walls with sheets, and take down the strobe lights,” he laughed.

“I thought you were only twenty-seven?” I laughed.

“I’m an old school playa’,” he said in an oddly sexy voice.

“What time should I arrive?” I asked.

“Come now. I don’t want you running into Meathead at home,” he insisted.

I sighed. “I have groceries in the backseat,” I complained.

“So? I have a fridge. Since I’m a bachelor, there’s plenty of room once I throw out the empty pizza boxes and drink the last beer,” he teased.

“I look a mess,” I continued to find excuses.

“Messier than the day we met?” he laughed.

“I guess not that messy,” I smiled.

“I’ll shoot you the text, and see you in about ten minutes,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Naomi?” he added softly.

“Yes?”

“I’m really glad you aren’t mad at me,” he said.

“I don’t think I could ever be mad at you,” I said, and then hung up the phone.

A few seconds later, his directions came through in a text. I recognized the street. It was near the beach, and in a pretty decent neighborhood. It wasn’t upscale, right on the sand, but a little ritzier than where I lived. My nerves were rattled as I pulled out of the parking lot and headed his way. I hadn’t had time to primp, or pluck. What if tonight was the night?