Mrs. Sailer,
I enjoyed your email, and yes, we’d love to have you back on the team. Your column position was filled last year, so unfortunately, we’ll have to bring you in on an assignment-based capacity until more openings occur. Please send me any ideas you have, and we can proceed from there. I’m excited to get in touch and talk further.
Sincerely,
Tina Gais
Editor-in-Chief
Onlooker Online Magazine
I read that email once, then again, and a third time. I’d received it this morning, and I was trying to create a list of ideas, but found myself going back to read it all over again. There was no mention of Liam’s death, what I’d been through, or why they’d had to fill my position. Yep. No word on how they’d promised I could take all the time I needed to mourn. No one could replace me, and they were thinking of me always. No mention of any of the supportive messages they’d sent me when I let them know I needed more time. Being a relationship advice columnist when the love of my life had just died hadn’t been one of those things I could bounce back into.
My gaze shifted from the email to my list of ideas. So far I had a number one…and nothing else. That blank number one had taken a whole hour to figure out. I felt it was promising. I rolled my eyes. Who was I kidding? I still wasn’t there. My column was taken. I had to send back new ideas, not my old ones. No more stories on why Mr. Settle-For-You would never compare to Mr. Perfect-For-You. I was such a sap.
I hunched back over the computer and typed:
Ten things to do if your husband dies.
#1. Move out of your shared house. It saves time on being haunted.
#2. Hide the booze from others. You’ll want it on those nights when everyone leaves you alone, and that happens faster than you think.
#3. Smile. They may be perfect strangers, but they don’t like to be reminded they are.
#4. Get plastered every night so you don’t play your husband’s death over and over again in your head. This ties back to #1.
#5. ---------------
I shoved back from the computer. I couldn’t send that. Going into the bathroom, I looked in the mirror. That person staring back, she was most definitely a downer. Sad eyes. Bags under those same dark eyes. Hair that used to shine in the sunlight—that was what Liam had said. It was a sandy-color blond that fell past my shoulders. It looked like a limp mop now. I shook my head, cleared my thoughts. Yes, whoever was staring back at me wasn’t me. She was grieving, but me, I was trying to live again.
Sia had said to try to get back to work. That would help. This morning was my first real try at it.
It was a big-time fail.
I was supposed to meet Sia for lunch at Gianni’s, and instead of us walking together, I’d gotten a message from her earlier just to meet her there. That meant I had three hours to kill before walking down the block, and writing had been supposed to fill that time.
I eyed my sneakers and headphones. I’d been avoiding Dawn in the gym, but she was friendlier lately. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I considered… I could do a hard workout and still be done with stretching and even cool down before she entered the elevator. It wasn’t that I wanted to avoid Dawn. I just didn’t want to push my luck with her. Sia was her new bestie, or so she thought, and I didn’t want to be pulled into the middle of that either—just like Sia and Jake and whatever was going to happen with them.
I grunted. Even Sia was better at living my new life than me, and thinking about that, my decision was made.
Changing clothes, I grabbed my sneakers and laced them up. My headphones in one hand and my phone in the other, I headed downstairs. The doors slid open at the lobby, and I stepped out, turning toward the door to the back area.
“You’re going for a workout, Miss Addison?”
“Addison, Ken.” He still refused. “Just Addison.”
Ken stepped out of his office and chuckled, his wrinkled face immediately rounding. His cheeks colored, and he pulled his hat off, tucking it against his chest. “Might you feel up for a run today, Addison?”
My name came out so reluctantly. I could imagine his teeth grinding together. Wait. What did he say? A run? “Is the gym closed?” I usually used the elliptical, then the treadmill for my cool down.
“No, ma’am.”
“Ken,” I warned.
“No, Addison.” His gaze shifted to my left, over my shoulder. “Our running track’s nicely heated, though, if you were to feel up for a real run today.”
“I…”
He turned back into his office, and I trailed off. That was different. I turned, and with a last glance over my shoulder at him, I pushed open the door. I paused on the other side. My hands found my hips and rested there, but then I shrugged. He wanted me to run on the track. Well, I liked Ken. I figured he said it for a reason.
Jake said he’d used the running track a few times, and it was long and winding. It dipped down next to the basement parking lot and back up to go along the side of the building before it circled back inside.
I opened the door to the track and had to pause again. Jake never mentioned that the track was literally a clear tube. It had two lanes, and beyond the tube I could see the gardens that decorated the pool area. Ken was right. I was beginning to feel more and more like a run.
I was popping my headphones in after a quick stretch when I heard soft footsteps on the track—the sound of someone running. They were coming in quick and strong, and then they rounded the last turn, coming right for me. The runner’s head was bent, his hood pulled low. I was off to the side, so when he zoomed past me, I couldn’t quite see who it was. It wasn’t Jake, or I didn’t think it was. He was probably at work, and the guy was taller than Derek. I doubted it was William. Maybe the mysterious fourth-floor resident?
Then the image from last night flashed in my head: Mr. Gorgeous holding his comrade up, pool of blood on the floor. Could it be? The runner had the same physique, but two times in two days when no one else had seen him? Ever? I shook my head. It was probably the fourth floor guy, and with that decided, I started off at a light jog.
Okay. Well. The first lap took longer than I thought. And I was wheezing. I wasn’t as fit as I’d thought. Still, I could do another lap. My lungs weren’t bursting, so I circled around for the second lap. At the end of it, I vowed to bring my pedometer next time. I wanted to know how far each lap took me. This was longer than a normal track, much longer. I was panting like a beached whale when I circled back around toward the door again, and that was when I saw him.
He’d stayed.
His arms folded over his chest, and he was watching me.
A thrill coursed through me. He wasn’t even stretching. He was just waiting for me. I slowed, forcing my breathing to calm as I walked in. I needed time to adjust because it was him—Mr. Mystery Gorgeous Man from the back elevator. Like last night, as our eyes met and held, my blood started buzzing. A whole host of emotions circled like a tornado in me. I didn’t like it, but as adrenaline and excitement zipped through me, I had to admit that I didn’t not like it either.
He wore a warm smile, and his sweatshirt clung to him, showing his broad and muscled shoulders. God. His body—it was toned. Even under black sweatpants and a sweatshirt, I could tell how ripped he was. His hood was pushed back now, and as I got closer, I noticed his hair had been cut since yesterday. It was buzzed short. It fit him. His hair didn’t seem as dark as before, yet somehow, it made him seem even more primal and dangerous. He could do damage. I didn’t want to know what kind of damage, but I knew without a doubt he was not someone I wanted as an enemy. I didn’t fear him; I actually felt drawn to him, my body sizzling. Yet I was wary of him, and of myself at the same time.
His dark eyes never left mine. He studied me, and I got the feeling he knew exactly what kind of sensations and thoughts were going through my head.
A glimmer of a grin showed on his face before he held out his hand. “I’m Cole.”
I eyed his hand. I’ve never been a hands lady, but his showed strength. Fitting my palm to his, I learned his hands weren’t rough. He gave me a firm handshake, and a rush of blood went through me. My knees nearly buckled. I closed my eyes. What was happening? I’d never reacted like this—ever. Not to Liam. Not to any guy.
Get yourself together, Addison.
“Addison,” I managed to respond.
He nodded as if he already knew. His eyes sparked, and I got the distinct impression he was laughing at me. He glanced down the running track. “You did good. Almost a mile.”
“Is that how far two laps go?” I asked, my voice too loud. “I was trying to figure it out. I’ve never run here before.”
I wasn’t a schoolgirl, but he made me feel like one. I was too old to be reacting like this. Shifting on my feet, I reached over and kept one arm across my chest like a barrier. I grabbed my other arm, which was pressed into my side. There. I felt some semblance of control now, which was ridiculous. My arm over my chest wasn’t a barrier at all.
“Do you live here?” I asked.
One side of his mouth lifted, and if I’d thought he was gorgeous before, the half-smile made him breathtaking. I wasn’t prepared for the sight, and I rocked back on my heels.
Good God. That was enough. I could hear Sia’s voice in my head saying, You need to get laid. She was right. That was why I was reacting like this, so even a damned half-smile made me wet. It was time to do the deed and suffer through a one-night stand. Apparently my hormones were making this announcement in the most embarrassing way possible.
“I’m a friend of Dorian’s.”
Lucky Dorian. He hadn’t answered my question, but I didn’t push it. “Okay.”
“You must be the new resident? He said someone new moved into the third floor.”
“Yeah. That’s me.” I had to avert my eyes. It was like he could stare into my soul. I didn’t like that.
His head moved with mine so he could still see my eyes. “Am I making you nervous?” His voice softened.
“A bit.” I’d admit that. A wry laugh followed. “I’m, uh, to be fair, you’re…” I waved my hand at him. “…a lot. And I haven’t been around guys like you in a while. My, uh, husband—”
Stop, stop, stop! I yelled silently at myself. “Guys like him?” What the hell was I saying? And I was about to tell him about Liam? Not first-time meeting material. I shook my head, grimacing, and managed to stop.
“I’m sorry. I’m, I saw you last night in the elevator.” I looked up. He had inched back a step, putting a bit more distance between us, and my chest loosened. “Is your friend okay? He was bleeding.”
He continued studying me, and he seemed more closed off. A wall that hadn’t been there a moment ago was erected between us. “He’s fine. Dorian patched him up.” His half-smile faded, but it soon sparked back up, just another glimmer. “He had a bit too much to drink last night, took a bad spill on the street.”
“That’s good that he got fixed up.”
I was confused. Did Dorian live on the top floors? Jake said the owner did, though Cole made it sound like that wasn’t the case. Cole was obviously connected to the building somehow, but I wasn’t going to figure it out here.
I pointed to the door. “I’m meeting a friend for lunch, and I still have to change. I should get going.”
He nodded. “Do you run every day?”
I started to step around him, but paused. “What?”
He watched me with those intense eyes. The feeling of being exposed to him returned. He was looking into me, through me.
“Uh. No. Ken suggested it today, but I liked it. I’ll do this again.”
“I’ll be here every day at this time, if you want to run together.”
My eyes widened. At the suggestion, my heart pounded against my chest. “Um.” My face was heating up. I averted my eyes, trained them on the door behind him, and lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. I’ll see if I can. I’m not sure, you know, about my calendar. I might have something going on.” My eyes darted back to his, and they widened once again.
He hadn’t moved, but he felt closer to me. His presence was overwhelming. “Okay,” he murmured. “Well, you’ll know where I am, if you want a running buddy.”
Then, just like that, I felt him pull away. He didn’t move, but I could breathe easier again. Now that he’d said what he wanted to, he released me. My legs were unsteady as I forced myself to walk forward.
I spoke over my shoulder, my heart racing, “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
My heart thundered as I approached the exit. As I touched the metal door handle, I heard him speak. “Yeah. Maybe.”
I sucked in my breath. That voice, those words spoken so softly—they reached inside me and wrapped around my heart. I felt him. He had power over me, and none of this made sense. He’d branded me, claiming me. I looked back over my shoulder, air suspended in my throat, but he wasn’t watching now. His hood was back up, and he kicked off, starting another lap.
My shoulders sagged. I twisted around so my back was against the door and watched him go. This man, whoever he was, whatever kind of man he was, could affect me like no other had in my life.
Something had happened here, and I had a feeling everything was going to change. I just didn’t know if it would be for the better or for the worse.
Straightening from the door, I shook my head. I was being ridiculous.