Lark
Friday mornings at the teen counseling center are fairly quiet, especially during the summer months. All the kids would rather sleep late than attend a therapy group. I don’t necessarily blame them—they should enjoy it while they can. I don’t remember the last time I spent a few extra hours laying around in bed.
Adulting sucks.
I’m using the downtime to catch up on paperwork and reports, but I find myself pretty preoccupied with a particular situation and a certain guy. I’ve been distracted by Rowen and his flower delivery since he stepped foot into my office last week. Thinking about him gets me so frustrated that I almost start banging my head against the desk.
When Rowen randomly dropped by here, I was completely unprepared. Work is my safe haven and he trampled all over it. I wasn’t dressed for seduction and the polished mask to hide my insecurities wasn’t in place. What Rowen saw was the real me and I wasn’t effing ready for that.
When he asked about my job growing up, I knew he remembered me. Pain blasted through me like an avalanche and I didn’t know what to do. I was immediately transported back to the fateful day when shit started hitting the fan. Hate for Rowen boiled like acid in my veins but love burned brighter. I couldn’t escape the useless emotion, even though I’ve attempted to forget more times than I can count. I tried to be indifferent and unaffected but I am so fucking ruined. There’s no faking it.
Something in him speaks to me in a way I can’t hide from. My soul perks up and demands I listen whenever he’s involved. I tried to wear the bitter bitch shield but it was an epic failure. He plowed through it like a flimsy piece of tinfoil.
I can’t handle Rowen sweet and romantic. I was having a difficult enough time rejecting his advances before he released the charm. He might as well have been reciting poetry for how hard I was swooning. He brought me flowers, which no man has done before.
The blooming bouquet of Calla lilies are not only my favorite blossoms but the bouquet is absolutely stunning. Willow is such a freaking traitor for selling my secrets to the enemy. She tried denying any involvement but her Cheshire grin was a dead giveaway. She kept up the innocent act by asking who they were from, as if she didn’t know.
How do I even stand a chance when my own friends are double-crossing me and taking Rowen’s side?
The impressive arrangement is still begrudgingly displayed on my desk and one glance brings tears to my eyes all over again. There was no way I could toss them in the trash, even if the sight of them whispers about giving him a chance. I need to get my shit together but it’s a serious challenge when reminders keep blasting into my brain—like Rowen’s little nicknames for me. Sweetheart was bad enough but then he took it a step further. Of course that sent my already frantic heart into another traitorous tailspin.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Where was this guy when I needed him? Now I’m past the point of no return and there is no going back. Pretty sure Rowen has lost interest anyway.
Since he walked out my door, I haven’t heard a peep. I’m trying to convince myself to be happy about the reprieve but it clearly isn’t working out so well.
I need my reliable anger to remain locked in place if I’m going to survive this unpredictable onslaught from him. Rowen needs to pay for the pain he caused me and I refuse to roll over and beg for another serving of suffering. I can’t let fluffy emotions get involved and ruin my revenge.
He can’t change my mind with a few sweet words and kind gestures. I don’t need assistance falling for him. My armor is back in place and I won’t let him crack it again.
What I really need is a different type of distraction, which gives me an idea. Friday nights are meant for going out and letting loose, so that’s exactly what I’ll do.
With visions of a relaxing evening as motivation, I shove the other nonsense away and focus on my piles of work. Soon enough, I’m lost in case notes and session planning before the kids arrive for group.
The familiar tasks keep my mind occupied and I manage to accomplish far more than usual by four o’clock in the afternoon. This independent, career driven woman has regained control and beams with productivity pride. I give myself a mental high-five and decide to leave a bit early as a reward.
Take that, Rowen.
Minneapolis has an active nightlife with plenty of options. I chose this bar because it’s right around the corner from my apartment and they offer a tasty selection of mixed drinks, which I gladly overindulge in.
The appealing scenery definitely doesn’t hurt either. There are several attractive men dispersed around the space and I’m perusing the crowd between sips of my cocktail. Not that I’m interested in any of that tonight, but there’s no harm in looking.
This particular watering hole is an extremely popular place for after work de-escalation since it’s near an ever crowded bus stop. It’s always packed so I was pleased to find several open seats when I first arrived. Maybe Chloe and Faith want to join me. They’ll definitely appreciate this meat market.
As I’m polishing off my first Moscow Mule, a handsome guy approaches and sits on the stool next to me. I don’t acknowledge him because I’m not in the mood for company. My lack of attention doesn’t dissuade him though.
He clears his throat loudly before leaning into my personal space. “Hey, gorgeous. What are you doing here all alone?”
Urgh.
It’s already painfully obvious he’s over here to hit on me. Usually I’d be flattered, but today his chances are definitely zero. I don’t want to encourage him but it’s hard to be rude unless he deserves it.
“Enjoying a drink after a stressful week. You?”
“The same.” He sticks his hand out while saying, “I’m Ronald. And you are?”
When his name registers, I internally cringe but make sure to keep the plastic smile plastered on my face. My palm slides into his for the customary shake and no sparks or tingles erupt from the connection—not that I was expecting anything extraordinary from this stranger.
“I’m Lark. It’s nice to meet you.” I say while scanning his features.
Ronald is very handsome with thick chestnut hair and expressive toffee eyes but no desire sparkles within me.
I remove my hand from his grip so I can flag down the bartender for another cocktail. As I’m raising my chin to signal him, Ronald skims his fingers down my arm. This time the grin does slip from my lips.
I stare down at the offending touch before slowly shifting my glare to the guy who thought that was a smart move. He doesn’t get the message from my look alone so I angle back, out of his reach. Screw being polite if this guy wants to invade my space.
Just as I’m about to tell him off, my phone lights up with a text notification. I snatch it up as an easy excuse and hopefully an obvious hint for Mr. Handsy to take a hike. I was pleased about the convenient distraction until the sender’s name comes into view.
Rowen: What do you think you’re doing?
Taking a chance with Ronny is my preferred choice at the moment, even if it’s to tell him I’m not interested.
Then a familiar voice whispers into my left ear—immediately causing shivers to flare up everywhere as heated jitters burst between my legs. “Ignoring my messages? That’s not very nice, Vix.”
A strong woodsy-cedar scent floats into the air surrounding me and as I twist slightly to catch a glimpse of the intruder over my shoulder. Rowen sounds calm but one glance at his clamped jaw and flaring nostrils leads me to believe he isn’t relaxed at all. Surprise causes my heart to skip beats as I contemplate the possibility of him stumbling upon me by accident. I went seven years without so much as a glimpse of him. Now he’s suddenly popping up everywhere. What the hell is up with that?
My snarky mask easily slips into place. “Stalking me now? Isn’t that sweet. Barging into my workspace clearly wasn’t enough. You’re invading my personal downtime as well.” Thorns of frustration poke at me before I inhale a deep breath and turn toward my newly acquired safeguard. “Look who’s here, Ronny! This is Casper, a friend-of-a-friend of sorts.” I wrinkle my nose while shooting him a disapproving scowl.
“Who the hell are you referring to with a name like that?” Rowen practically spits through clenched teeth and I wonder what’s got him so upset—the nickname or the other man vying for my attention?
I point at him and respond, “You, duh. You’re like a fucking ghost. Disappearing in the blink of an eye like that.” I snap my fingers for shock value. “It’s extremely appropriate. What do you think, Ronny?” My gaze swings back to my new pal and the guy just stares at me questioningly, probably wondering if I’m worth the effort.
My attention is drawn back to Rowen as he growls, “What are you doing, Lark?”
“What the hell does it look like? I’m spending some quality time with my friend so why don’t you mind your own business,” I fire back while raising a haughty brow.
Ronny decides to pipe up from the sidelines. “I actually prefer Ronald, not Ronny.”
Urgh.
Why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut? Now I look like a bigger fool. And Ronald? Barf. His name is such a turnoff. He would have been much hotter as John or Ben.
“Why are you doing this, Lark? You don’t even know this guy.” Rowen speaks to me as though Ronald hadn’t said a word, as he hooks his thumb in the other man’s direction.
“You offering me something better?”
“Yeah. Have a drink with me.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. “I want a lot more than that.”
I’m ogling Rowen’s body in an overt manner when Ronny—I refuse to call him Ronald in my head—barges into our conversation again.
How rude is he?
“Lark and I were getting to know each other.” His serious stare is locked on Rowen. “Maybe you should find another girl, buddy. She’s mine tonight.”
Seriously?
This guy is making my lady parts shrivel up. No way is this happening, not even a tiny bit. I almost gag. How did I think he was attractive a few minutes ago?
These two idiots continue their pissing match while effectively ignoring me. I huff out a few frustrated breaths since my plan for a drama-free night has been spoiled.
I decide to remove myself from this outrageous situation completely. The point of going out tonight was to relax and this place lost the appeal once Ronny sat down next to me. Since Rowen’s focus is elsewhere, he doesn’t notice me slip off the bar stool and saunter to the bathroom in my sky-high heels. A few guys attempt to catch my gaze but I am so over it.
All I want is an extra-large glass of wine while I soak in my claw-foot tub, letting the stress that’s been weighing me down slowly melt away. I’m envisioning the lavender-scented bubbles and soothing music filling my ears when someone grabs my arm and spins me around.
I stumble in my Kate Spade stilettos but Rowen’s grip keeps me upright. Once I find my balance, I lock my furious glare on him and prepare to ream his ass out. The words stick in my throat like super glue when I catch sight of Rowen’s flushed face and stony expression. His body seems to vibrate with anger so I try stepping back, but his hold is iron-clad.
Rowen’s penetrating gaze sears into me, like he’s trying to read my thoughts. The level of intensity sends jolts of nervousness buzzing along my flesh but I can’t look away. He has me completely transfixed, waiting for the verbal lashing I’m sure to receive.
When Rowen finally speaks after staring into my eyes for countless moments his voice is shockingly gentle.
“It’s time you and me had a talk.”