Page 44 of The Chad Next Door
I set my groceries on the front seat, but as I’m shutting the door, a strange sensation creeps up my spine, like I’m being watched. I look around, frowning because Main Street is pretty dead this time of day, and then I see him.
It’s the guy from our first week here. The one who looked familiar while the kids and I were eating ice cream before they started school. He’s currently peering through the window of the random antique store that is the one place I haven’t been inside yet, but I have a feeling he was only recently looking at me.
That’s fine, I tell myself as I head to the pharmacy. I’m obviously looking at him, so it goes both ways. Again, he probably thinks I look familiar and is working up the nerve to come talk to me and figure out why.
Not sure why that would mean he needs to look so shifty while following me, though.
I slip inside the pharmacy and veer to the left, ducking down beneath the single shelf that sits in the middle of the store, holding my breath. The door doesn’t open, and I let out a shaky little laugh. “Getting paranoid, are we?” I murmur and then head to the front desk.
One glance out the window tells me the guy is still there, which brings my heart rate right back up. Trying to ignore him, I tell the clerk, who looks about seventy years old, why I’m here.
“You want what?” he asks, turning his head to point his ear toward me.
Guess he’s hard of hearing. “A prescription for Chad Briggs,” I say loudly.
“For bad ribs? I think you just need to ice them, dear. Take some ibuprofen.”
I chuckle, and after several more failed attempts at getting him to understand, ending with me pointing to the bag sitting on the counter behind him, I have pain pills in tow and feel a lot less spooked than I was a moment ago.
Still, it might be a good idea to get an expert’s opinion.
Chad answers after the first ring. “You are taking forever.”
“Someone wants his drugs,” I say with a laugh.
“Something like that. Please tell me you’re not calling to tell me you’ve decided to hang out in town all day and leave me here all alone.”
Face heating, I scoot toward the back of the pharmacy. This might be a bad idea, but if I don’t get some reassurance that everything is fine, I’ll never leave the pharmacy until the man goes away. “So, hypothetically, if I felt like someone was watching me, what would be the best thing to do in this scenario?” He’s quiet for long enough that I check to see if the call dropped. “Chad?”
“Is this a hypothetical or a real question?” He sounds so official and formal in a way that I haven’t heard him before, which sends a shiver through me.
“Um, the second one?”
“Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”
“You’re definitely not getting off that couch right now, Chadwick Briggs.”
“That is definitely not my name, Karen Duncan. Where are you?”
“Disneyland.”
“Hope!”
“Will you calm down?”
He growls, and it almost sounds like he’s hobbling around on one crutch. “You just told me someone is watching you. I am not going tocalm down.”
He’s extra sexy when he’s protective, though I keep that thought to myself. “What if I told you it’s a cute little old lady watching me?” I say as I peek out the window. The man’s still standing at the crosswalk like he’s waiting to cross, even though there aren’t any cars on the road. Only a few feet of sidewalk separate him from the door, which means he’s definitely waiting for me.
“Is it a cute little old lady?” Chad asks. I think he already knows the answer to that one because he says, “What does he look like?”
“How do you know it’s a he?”
“Because you’re scared.”
He has a good point. “I don’t know if I need to be scared, though,” I admit. “He just kinda seems…interested. Maybe he just wants to ask me out.”
“I’m still not okay with that,” Chad says roughly. “What does he look like, Hope?”
