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He’s not a violent guy. I should know. I’ve met plenty of those. If he’s just looking for excuses to keep away from me, then screw him.
I’m not laughing anymore. This isn’t funny. I’m getting him out of my mind, whatever it takes. This kind of stupid heartache is the last thing I need. My life is finally on track to something better. I won’t wallow in self-pity and ice-cream binging—okay, last night totally doesn’t count—for him.
No way.
So I get ready, quickly dish out some cat food for Raf, and rush to work, determined this day will look up.
***
Rafe’s here, at the coffee shop where I work, sitting at a small table in a corner. Despite his words, his proclamation that I shouldn’t be with him. What is he doing here?
Of course he hasn’t spoken to me. Then again, I haven’t given him an opening. I stay clear. Keep away. Just watch.
His fisted hands rest on the table. Even from here I can see the bandages. Has he been punching walls again?
My chest clenches, and I turn away. Nothing to do with me. What he does to himself is none of my business.
That’s what I repeat to myself when I ask Ruby to take his order, pretending to be too busy with mine. She glances in Rafe’s direction, and her brows lift. A blush seeps into her cheeks.
“Are you sure, girl?” Her breathing hitches. “That’s one hot boy. Why wouldn’t you want to take his order?”
“I’m really, really busy.” I huff and take off in the direction of the kitchen, trying to ignore the stab of jealousy at the thought of her flirting with him, getting to look into those golden eyes as she talks to him.
I’m so screwed. All my resolutions come to nothing when he’s around. I can’t approach him. Getting nearer than this will melt all my remaining brain cells and I’ll do something stupid like press myself to him and try to kiss him.
Nope. Not going to happen.
But some time later, as I pass by to serve another table, I can’t help but glance at him, and that’s a mistake. First because he’s more gorgeous than my memory gives him credit for—and second because he looks really tired. Pale. Haggard.
Shocked, I stop in my tracks, tray in hand. He hasn’t seen me, his attention on his cell. Not that he’s texting, or playing, or doing anything with it. Just staring at it. From where I stand, the screen looks dark and blank.
Suddenly he lifts his head and looks right at me. I freeze, my mouth opening but my mind providing no words to say.
Brilliant. “Hey,” I manage.
He says nothing. His eyes flash, chips of bright, electric amber, then lower again.
A slow burn starts in my neck, climbing to my cheeks. He’s doing it again. Ignoring me, like he did all these past months. I’m so humiliated, so angry I don’t know what to do with myself.
God. I’ve spent my life being ignored, taken for granted. I won’t accept being treated like that by a man, no matter h
ow handsome he is. Arrogant son of a bitch. And here I was, just a few days ago, wishing I could help him.
If he ever comes near me again, I’ll tell him where to shove it. I wish I could tell him not to come here again, but I can’t. If anyone finds out, I’ll be fired. This isn’t my apartment, this is my workplace. A public place.
But I’ll make sure he knows I don’t want him around—if he hasn’t noticed it already.
***
This Sunday when I go out jogging early in the morning, I take my usual route, through town. I avoid the pretty, rich neighborhood where I met Rafe a week ago, just to be on the safe side.
Then I return home and check Raylin’s room, hoping against hope she’s back.
She’s not. I try to call her, but get no reply. I text her for the millionth time, asking her what’s going on and when she’ll return.
I put my cell down and sigh.
Raf is whining, wanting more from me than just food. He wants to be petted and scratched, and although I’m pissed at Raylin for leaving him in my care without asking first, I indulge him. He purrs so loudly that I worry something’s wrong with him. He sounds like a car engine.
