Page 21 of Creep

If Leo couldn’t find anything, what hope did I have that the cops would?

And my relationship with the cops was… complicated.

I didn't have a high opinion of them. Not with the half-assed way they went about investigating Caden’s death, or how it felt they cared more about being able to close a case, as opposed to the people in those cases, just left me feeling icky.

But right now, a supposed stalker was pushed to the back of my mind when I felt eyes on me.

His eyes.

I didn’t even know his name. Yet there was this undeniable attraction buzzing low beneath my skin, as some kind of warning, right before the implosion of a bomb.

I turned my head toward him once more.

His blue eyes were like crystals. They shone brightly even in this dingy bar.

And what I hadn’t noticed the other night was his neck tattoo—black tribal lines of some sort on one side. I could only imagine he would have more beneath his shirt. How…

Sexy.

The man was unbelievably sexy.

And had this untouchable vibe that just made me want to touch.

And he was looking at me as if he might feel the same way too.

Should I approach him?

I didn’t usually approach men—specifically, strange men I knew nothing about. But he made me want to just throw out the norm and do whatever it took to make him mine.

Sounded desperate.

And sad.

I wasn’t desperate or sad, was I?

But if I let him go, who knew if I would be able to run into him again?

Just as I worked up the courage to approach him, a woman was already there, pushing up against his side and running her hand up and down his hard chest.

I deflated on the spot as I watched her say something to him, her eyes glinting with interest.

How brave.

But if I looked like her—theliteraldefinition of a blonde bombshell—I would be brave as well.

I downed the rest of my drink, having already seen enough. What made me think a man like him would be interested in me?

I was blushing just thinking about it.

I stood and placed a couple of twenties on the bar top, catching the bartender’s eyes to indicate I was paying, and walked away. I didn’t look back at the man and the woman, but I could hear the woman’s giggles on my way out.

I blew out a long exhale, watching as cold air formed in front of my face before I got into my car and drove off. Just as I was about to pull out of the property, I checked my rearview mirror. My heart nearly dropped to the bottom of my car when I caught sight of the man standing out casually by the front door of the bar.

He had his hands tucked into his pants pockets, his huge frame nearly taking up most of the entryway, and even in the dark, I got the distinct feeling that his eyes were aimed directly at the back of my car.

I took a deep breath, but it wasn’t enough. It felt like there was an elephant doing jumping jacks on my heart. I rubbed at my chest. Why was he looking at me?

What about the blonde woman who approached him? And did it make me conceited to think he had left the woman behind to follow me out? Did he feel it too? That pressure on his chest whenever he looked at me, and he did not know what to do? Did I make a mistake by leaving the bar early?

---