Shadows of the Past (5 page)

"I’m not, but I couldn’t help but notice the woman in the window of this hotel as I walked by on the street yesterday. When I saw it was you, I grabbed a phone and stopped in to see when you’d be back.” He glances around the room, and then looks back at me.

"Well, that was kind, but I meant it. I don’t want you doing me any favors. I can take care of myself. Listen, I need to get back to work." He reaches out and takes my hand.
 

“Wait.” Oliver opens his mouth to say more, but I can’t do this.
 

When his fingers touch me, that warm, static-y feeling shoots through my body. The man makes my brains melt. I have to get him to let go without making a scene.
 

“You’re kind, really you are, but I can’t. It’s not you. It’s me.” I pull away mid-babble and feel my mind return.
 

Oliver watches me walk to the front of the restaurant and disappear. I head into the corridor that connects with the pub and duck into the ladies' room to catch my breath. When I’m sure I’m alone, I walk over to the sinks and look in the mirror. I look worn out. My skin is pale and listless, and my hair has a twig-like texture. I look sickly. I grip the cold sink in my hands and close my eyes, pressing my lashes together hard.
 

The truth is, I recognize the sensation shooting through my body—the intensity of the attraction is too much. Last time I felt this way, I ended up pregnant. I was too young and afraid, but there was no way I could get rid of the baby. When I finally worked up enough nerve to tell my boyfriend, he left me. That’s the best relationship I ever had, and that’s how it ended. And this thing with Oliver feels too familiar. I can’t take any more heartache. He has to stay away.

I manage to get my walls back up and plaster a plastic smile on my face. Most people can’t afford to eat here, but with his insanely expensive liquor and posh car, he could have grabbed a table. Part of me hopes he did, even though it’s not sensible.

But when I go back to work it’s clear he’s gone.

CHAPTER 7

Reggie is watching me, a concerned expression on his face, and when I start to walk past him, he puts a hand on my arm to stop me.
 

"You good?"

"Fine," I say with a nod, trying not to show any emotion.
 

He narrows his eyes, watching me closely for a few minutes before he smiles.
 

"Hmm," he says reaching beneath the bar, "he left something for you." I know what it is before he shows me. It's the bag Oliver tried to give me. Reggie also hands me a folded sheet of paper.

“Listen, I wouldn’t have taken it, but you have to realize—”
 

I cut Reggie off, not wanting him to feel bad for getting caught in the middle.
 

“No, it’s okay. Really, I’m okay. Go back to work.” Reggie wanders away, muttering something I can’t hear. He knows I’m far from fine.

When I’m alone, I open the note.

American Girl,

Keep the phone, please. I can't, in good conscience, let my four-legged friend run amuck and do nothing when he destroys something. Besides, Barkley wants you to have it. He even promised not to slobber on it or knock it in a lake.
 

My apologies--for everything,

Oliver

The note isn't what I expected. He's got me feeling unbalanced and unsure, never doing what I expect. He included his number in the note, but I won't use it. The only thing I want from Oliver is distance. I make a mental note not to sit by the window again. He must have seen me while walking to his hotel down the block.

Remembering the reason he even knew I was working, I pad over to Reggie. He’s standing at the counter, counting out change for the evening. I put my hands on my hips and glaring at him. “Who told him when I was working tonight?”

Reggie knows I’m going to verbally castrate him. “Kayla, it’s not like that.”

I don’t listen. In a hushed whisper, I scold, "Did you even stop to think that maybe, just maybe, I didn't want him to know when I work? Did it ever occur to you I have a reason for not giving him any information? How do you know he isn't a serial killer?"
 

Reggie's jaw drops open and he starts to smile. "Sorry, Kayla. It's just... Do you know—"

I cut him off, not wanting to hear whatever he's going to say. "Don't. How dare you! If I wanted him to know where and when I work, I would have done it myself."
 

He at least has the decency to look ashamed, but it doesn't lessen my anger any. I still can't believe he would just give some random guy information about me.
 

Shoving the note in my pocket and the phone under the counter, I walk back out to my tables. I try not to think about how Oliver knows who I am and where to find me again. I have a bad feeling about all of this. The reason I want him to stay away is because I like him. That makes me the nutter, not Oliver.

CHAPTER 8

A few hours later, Emily drops by and takes a little table by the windows. It's almost the end of my shift, and as far as I know we don't have plans. Reggie and I stand outside the kitchen, avoiding the angry clanging noises from behind the door. Jacques, our chef, is ready to tear someone a new one. His meat delivery got screwed up and we don’t have what he needs for tomorrow night’s menu. No foie gras.

Reggie makes a face and is all too happy to see Emily get up from her table and approach us. He leers at her playfully, prompting her to smile widely at him.
 

"Hey, Reg." Then, turning to me, she says, "So? Anything interesting happen today?" The way she says it lets me know the two of them have been talking about me again. I'm sure Reggie told her about my new phone and the note, too.

"Do the two of you not have anything better to do than talk about me? My life really isn't that interesting." There's a reason I don't go out, I don't party, and I don't have friends. I know what happens when you let your guard down, and I don't want to be the topic of anyone's conversations. I had enough of that after the stick turned blue, and Charlie left me.

Emily winks at me. "I don't know about that, Kayla. Suddenly, you have a guy bringing you a new phone, leaving you love letters, and making you all flustered. It's the most excitement I've seen you have since you moved in." She bats her eyelashes at me.

Reggie looks uncomfortable and shifts his weight to his other foot, increasing the space between us. He glances at the front of the little restaurant. “I better go help Chef Jacques figure out what to do with tomorrow’s menu. Kayla, remind me to tell you something later.” He wanders off, irritated.
 

"What was that about?" I watch Reggie through the little window into the kitchen. The cook is yelling, so we back away. Emily shrugs.
 

“Who knows? Reggie can be a drama queen sometimes. So, Mystery Man from the pub shows up here to bring you a new phone?” She squeals. “It sounds like the start of a beautiful relationship.”

“Oh, God, you’re quoting Bogart.” I walk over to her table and start clearing her plates.

“You have a hot man on your tail and refuse to do anything about it. Come on, Kayla! This is what we were talking about to get you out of your slumpy slump.” She frowns at me then follows it up with a giddy smile. “He was so hot.”

“Yeah, he was, but it’s not like that.”

“What do you mean?”

I hand her the piece of paper Oliver left with the phone. "He didn't leave any love notes. Nothing romantic at all, unless you think Barkley wants to make me his bitch."

The dreamy smile falls from her lips, and she frowns as she scans the letter. "That's disappointing. What'd you do to scare him off?"

"Nothing! I was totally bitchy and told him to take a hike."

Emily rolls her eyes and folds her arms over her chest. “You need a man. Stat. Your bitchy vibes are overwhelming.” She smirks. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll find you someone who isn’t afraid of that sharp tongue.” She grabs my lip between her fingers and yanks it.

I pull away and shake my head at her. “Yeah, don’t do that. I’m not interested.”

“Then let’s go to the lady store and buy you a new electronic friend. I saw your old vibrator in the trash.”

I blush and swat at her. “Shhhh! OMG! You can’t talk about that here!”

She makes a face. “Americans are such prudes. If you’re hard up for cash, it’s my treat. And we'll get you either a nice big dildo or the bunny rabbit thing. It looks freaky, but it works great.”
 

Reggie walks back out at that moment. “Where are you two going tonight?”

Emily responds before I can stop her. “Dildo shopping. My friend needs a man that won’t talk back and can touch her in all the right places.” She smiles and bumps her shoulder into mine.

Reggie’s jaw drops. He tells Emily, “I thought you were going for Indian food. Apparently not. Get Kayla out of here before Jacques starts looking good.”

“Done!” Emily grabs my arm and pulls me out before I can die of shame.

CHAPTER 9

The next morning, I walk through Kensington Gardens. I’m lost in thought, staring at the huge-ass phone in my hand.
 

Yeah, I kept it.
 

Emily talked me into using it. Actually, it was more of a threat. One thing I’ve learned is not to screw with Emily. As it is, I’m never going to be able to face Reggie again. I think about dildo shopping and my cheeks burn. The cool air dances across my face, blowing back my hair. Thank God no one saw us. Emily wears her brain on her sleeve.
 

I smile thinking about it. That was the most I’ve laughed in a really long time. Maybe things will get better.
 

I flip to a faster song and increase my pace to a brisk walk. I need to get that euphoric high that comes after the I’m-gonna-die part. My body is so tight. I should have stretched more.

Darting past the Peter Pan statue, I alter my route. I don’t want to be consumed by loss when I jog over that bridge. As it is, I can’t stop looking at this cell phone and wishing I’d backed up my memories of the secret life I left behind.

I space out, lost in my blaring music. Just as I pass a beautiful patch of green, a hand touches my shoulder. I spin around, screaming at the top of my lungs, my hands forming fists ready to punch my assailant. I come close to tripping over my feet.

Oliver makes a strangled sound and dodges my flying fists, but my flailing body still has too much momentum and I flop into him. He staggers back a few steps with me plastered against his chest. “Bloody hell, woman. Do you assault everyone or is it just me?” He gets his footing and stabilizes the two of us.
 

I freeze in place against his warm chest as his touch shorts out my brain. My body screams for me to melt into him, while my brain insists I pull away. He smells so good and feels so strong under my fingers. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his skin as if he’d been jogging before we collided.

I make a jerky attempt to stand, but my fingers stay on Oliver’s waist too long. I trace the curve of the top of his hip as I pull my hand away. I don’t mean for it to happen, but my hand slips under the hem of his shirt and slips over his hot skin. It's that spot just below his waist that forms the perfect lines to—oh God, stop thinking about it. Just let go! I pull away quickly and step back.

Oliver shivers but tries to hide it. His blue eyes dart to the side, over my head, and then behind me. He tries to talk, but nothing comes out.

For a second, I’m not sure what just happened. Do I affect him that much? Is this attraction two-way? I didn’t think it was, and yet… He seems to be speechless because of me. My touch has never made any man respond this way. That can’t be it.

"Good morning," his voice breaks my train of thought. There’s a half-smile on his lips.
 

I paste a fake smile on my face and act like nothing happened. "Morning."
 

“Nice phone.” He smirks, making my heartbeat race. He’s beautiful when he’s being an ass.

“Yeah, this stalker gave it to me the other day. He tracked me down at work. Total creeper, right?” I offer a wry grin and stretch my arms. I pull one across my chest and hold for a moment, and then repeat with the other side. It makes my cleavage perk up.

Oliver’s gaze dips but returns swiftly. His lips twitch as if he were trying not to laugh.
 

“Forgive me, American Girl, but I have no idea what you just said. Although, I did get the stalker part. I won’t bother you at work again. My apologies.”

“Good plan.” I raise both my eyebrows and smile at him. “Well, I’ll just go be sweaty some place else. Tootles, British Dude.” I wave the tips of my fingers at him and turn away, ready to run off.

Even though I try, I'm unable to ignore his footsteps behind me. He's following me. I stop abruptly and turn around. "What?"
 

Oliver holds both hands up. "This is a public park. I’m running, just like you. If you’ll pardon me,” he shoves past me and runs ahead.

I walk a few steps with my jaw dragging on the ground before I run to catch up. “Hey! I don’t think so.” I run up beside him. “Go find another park!” Oliver picks up the pace and starts to pull ahead, but I run harder to keep up.
 

“I like this one.” He’s not even panting.

I huff, keeping pace and trying to pull in front.
 

“No, you don’t. You like tormenting American women who run here. Maybe I should put up a poster.”

“A poster?” He looks over at me.

“Yeah, that says WHACKO, YE BE WARNED with a big picture of you right below.”

Oliver starts laughing, and his run slows. I pull ahead for a few seconds. He calls out from behind, “So, I’m a pirate now?”

“You’re a whacko.” I’m ready to sprint as fast as I can when I feel his hand brush my arm. A jolt of butterflies races up into my heart. Holy hell! He freed them from my stomach. The touch is brief, but it’s enough to stop me.

Oliver is grinning like he knows that he makes me a hot mess. He jogs backward, in place. “Go out with me.”