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“You should probably watch where you’re walking,” said an insufferably smug voice that belonged to the one person I didn’t want to see. Alex.
He still had his arm around my waist, his upper body tilted forward, while the edges of his lips lifted. Was that a smile? Was he actually smiling?
I shrugged out of his grip and stepped back as a bothersome heat fogged up my head. “I could say the same thing to you. Bumping into someone is a two-way street.”
He dropped his hand to his side and leaned against the wall, looking both devilishly handsome and way more relaxed than the man who had handed me his business card yesterday— a business card I still hadn’t looked at, as if I was terrified I’d save his number to my cell phone and call him late at night when I was at my most vulnerable.
“So, who’s this person you have to stay away from?” he asked.
“You,” I said, not bothering with a lie. Lies were sticky, tangled messes I preferred to avoid. And since I was terrible at lying—like turn-red-and-laugh-uncontrollably bad at lying—I spoke the truth. “Before I accidentally commit murder. I won’t do well in prison.”
He smirked. “I don’t know about that. Something tells me you can handle yourself pretty well if you need to.”
“Is that a compliment, Alex, because I didn’t know you were capable of saying anything nice?” I moved past him tothe stairwell and breathed in deeply when I heard his footsteps follow behind me. There was no escaping him.
“I’m capable of being friendly, you know. I’m not heartless.”
“The man who crashed into me yesterday and blamed me—”
“It wasn’t a crash,” he interrupted, lifting a single finger. “Merely a fender bender. There’s a difference.”
“They’re both inconvenient,” I shot back, pushing open the heavy oak door that led out to the front parking lot and the garden to the left.
I needed air. I needed to clear the fog in my head. I needed to get far away from Alex. But he was following me like a lost puppy—except he was anything but lost. Alex seemed like the type of man who knew exactly where he was, what he was doing, and where he was going.
Stepping onto the stone pathway, I tore my gaze from him, away from the tiny patch of skin on his neck just below his jaw that was slightly darker than the rest—a birthmark—and studied the garden. My thumbs were far from green, but even someone who knew nothing about flowers could appreciate what they had done here. The garden bloomed in a riot of colors— purple lavenders, white daffodils, and orange tulips. And at the far end of the garden was a pedestal bird feeder standing in the middle of a bush of hydrangeas. It felt like I was Mary Lennox walking intoThe Secret Garden.
“Do you know what’s inconvenient?” asked Alex, sidling up next to me when I stepped under the pergola. The shade was a lovely reprieve from the hot midday sun. The only thing that could make this moment better was silence. At least then I could concentrate on the chirps of the birds, and not Alex standing far too close for my liking. “Being forced to come to seminars like these on weekends,” he added.
Now that was the truth. Weekends were precious and sacred and since there were only fifty-two of them a year, they should becherished. But for some reason I couldn’t help resisting, pushing back, going against everything he said even when I agreed with him.
“Seminars like these are what make us better at our jobs,” I pointed out, not catching his eye. “We can’t grow if we don’t learn.”
“Touché.”
“Besides,” I added, sitting down on one of the couches, the waterproof fabric crinkling under me—I was surprised no one else was out here during our hour-long lunch break. “You don’t look like someone who takes a weekend off.”
“Why do you say that?”
"I don't know," I shrugged, not sure why Alex gave me the impression of someone who was devoted—possibly bordering on obsessive—to his work. "You've just got that look about you like you're married to your job, like you love the thrill of it all, might even be addicted to it.”
Alex walked to the couch opposite mine and sat down. He didn’t say anything at first, only stared at something over my shoulder, his golden-brown eyes somehow even lighter than before.
The moment of silence continued.
Neither of us spoke. It gave me the unsettling feeling of walking into a scene from a Jane Austen novel, where I was awaiting courtship. The garden. The beautiful lodge. The awkwardness, hoping the other would be the first to say something and then wishing it was something more than just a simple question like, “What do you think of the weather?”
Alex spoke first. “You’re right. I do love my job, maybe a bit too much, but isn’t that the point? If you love something, you won’t spend a day working in your life.”
“Gandhi?”
He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Confucius. You were close though. Just a few centuries apart.”
“I knew it.”
“What about you?” asked Alex, bending his leg so that his right ankle rested on his left knee. “Doyouenjoy your job?”
If I mentioned how frightening my boss was, how she blew smoke and whipped her spiked tail around every time she walked into a room, he’d never believe me. Very few did, especially once they’d met her. Vicki was adorable in every way imaginable. She had the face of an angel—giant blue eyes, strawberry blonde hair—and a soft, curvy body with hips that swayed when she walked. A perfect cover, in my opinion.
