Page 24 of Stroke of Fate

Of course, thinking about her makes me think abouthim. Is it weird that he’s taken up so much space in my head, yet I still don’t know his name? There never seems to be a good opportunity to find out.

I drag a palm down my jean-clad thigh. “Oh, I’m sure. Hopefully, I won’t have to deal with anyone like that for a while.”

“Girl, you and me both. You ready to head out?” Macy stands, grabbing her keys and purse.

“Definitely,” I say, following suit. “And thanks again for dropping me off.”

Sometime during the evening, I mentioned the car debacle and having to Uber home. Macy outright said there was no way I was doing that when she could drop me off. At first, I refused, not wanting her to go out of her way, but she wouldn’t hear it—insisting it was no big deal and that she drops Elsie off anyway on nights they work together.

“Preston asked me to stop by before I leave,” Macy says, hiking a thumb over her shoulder toward his office. “I’ll grab the car after and meet you guys out front?”

“Sure, sounds good,” I nod.

Outside, there’s a slight chill, but it feels heavenly on my clammy skin after being trapped indoors all evening. I sit on one of the benches just outside the front entrance.

I’m about to mindlessly scroll on my phone when a pair of headlights from a lone car in the parking lot turn on. I squint, my eyes straining to make out the figure in the car. The longer I stare, the more paranoid I get. Every true crime podcast episode I’ve listened to comes back to me.

The driver’s side door opens, and I immediately jump to my feet, ready to head back inside where it’s safer. But before I can take a step, the driver comes into view, illuminated by the headlights. My unease slowly turns into confusion.

What is he still doing here? His friends left over an hour ago. And yes, I know this because I might have glanced at their table more times than I’ll admit. I saw the four of them leave together.

Yet, here he is, standing in front of me.

I swallow hard as trepidation morphs into nervous excitement at the sight of him.

“I thought you were a serial killer!” I call out, my heart rate slowly returning to normal.

He laughs, and the sound echoes around the quiet parking lot. Wow, it’s a nice sound.It’s deep and throaty and lights up his face.

Not the time or place, Bear.

“If I were a serial killer, you wouldn’t know until I’ve gotten you bound and gagged.” His voice is teasing, but my face flushes at hearing him use the words “bound” and “gagged together.

I think I liked it better when he was less friendly. This feels like dangerous territory and not something I’m fully prepared to take on right now, so I ignore how my body lights up at seeing him.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask, feigning indifference.

“Who says I didn’t just leave and get back in my car?”

“I know you didn’t.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and it's too late. I’ve shown my hand. Judging by the smirk tugging at his lips, he knows it too.

“You keeping tabs on me, Teddy Bear?” He teases.

I roll my eyes, fighting the smile threatening to appear. I can’t deny that the nickname doesn’t irritate me the way it did before. Tonight, it sounds endearing. Or maybe it’s because some level of affection accompanies the words, warming me up from the inside.

I adopt a neutral expression, hoping it hides how much I’m enjoying this back and forth. “Just answer the question.”

“I was waiting,” he says simply like that explains everything.

“You make it a habit to wait for people alone in parking lots at night?”

“Not people. Just one person. And this is fairly new to me.”

Forcing myself not to get caught up in how vulnerable and sweet he looks under the parking lot lights, I stand taller. “Who are you waiting for?”

God, if he says Sadie, and she magically appears from behind a wall or something, let the ground swallow me up right now.

“I was waiting for you.”

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