Page 13 of Accidentally Mine
“Before my time, baby,” she said with a shrug.“Before my time.”
I might have taken advantage of the donuts if my neurologist hadn’t insisted on a strict diet to enhance my brain function.Basically, anything fun or good-tasting was out.I indulged occasionally, but usually I paid the price the next day with extreme sluggishness or a headache.
“Right,” I murmured, crossing my arms, watching the blonde’s every move.“You were probably just a baby back then...”The waitress’s name completely escaped my mind.Where I used to excel at balancing two trains of thought, my mind now couldn’t dwell on both the waitress and the blonde.
It was May.The spring semester of school was just letting out.Why had she just shown up now?What was she doing in town?Did she live here, or where was she from?Shewasa mystery.
And these days, I was nowhere near equipped to deal with that kind of thing.
As the waitress set the carafe of coffee down on the counter and leaned forward, she whispered, “Don’t even think about trying to buy her a coffee.Three guys have done that so far, and she’s shot them all down.”
I blinked.“Yeah?”It didn’t surprise me.There may have been tons of beautiful women in Boston, but this woman definitely stood out among the rest.She was effortlessly hot, even in the ball cap.A woman like her could likely stand to be discriminating.Or perhaps she was already taken.My eyes drifted to her long fingers.No engagement ring.“Interesting.”
“I told you.Mysterious.”I looked up at Anita—yes, that was her name—and she smiled at me.“But I have to say, you’re the best looking of all of them, so you might have a shot.Want me to get things in motion?”
I shook my head.Not my style.Although, there was definitely something about this woman thatwasmy style.More than my style.
I liked that she was discriminating.Claudia would say I was picky when it came to women.I wasn’t, because there wasn’t a certain set of characteristics I looked for, but there were unexplainable things that drew me in, captivated me.Ajene sais quoithat didn’t exist in the majority of women I came across.
Whatever it was, this blonde?She had it.She had it off the charts.
I wanted her.
Anita gave me a wink and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me to study the blonde.I couldn’t see all of her, but I wanted to.I had the sudden urge to go over and ask her to stand and spin for me so I could take in every inch of her body.With the bulky sweater off, a thin long-sleeved shirt revealed more, but not enough.She typed a bit, looked around, typed some more and her eyes wandered again, but they never landed on me.I wondered if she was waiting for someone.After a while, she stretched her hands high into the air, arching her back and pointing her breasts out.
I leaned so far forward that my tie fell into my cup of coffee, and when I swiped at it, the cup clattered to its side, sloshing brown liquid all over my shirt.
I slid off the stool and more dripped from the counter onto my pants.“Shit!”
The coffee spill crept toward my newspaper as I reached for a napkin from the dispenser and realized it was empty.
As I turned toward the kitchen to look for Anita, a voice I’d definitely heard before said, “It’s okay.I’ll help you.”
I turned and looked into sparkling turquoise eyes.
My throat went dry.
Suddenly, I was lying on the side of the Pike, the side of my face pressed into lip of the car door where the window used to be, hot blood seeping from the side of my head, my heart beating wildly.The smell of gasoline was thick and burned my nostrils.The fog was gone now so that even the moon seemed too bright.A soft, angelic voice was whispering, “It’s okay.I’ll help you.”
I blinked away the memory as this particular angel handed me a wad of napkins from her own dispenser, but I held them uselessly in front of me.
It was her.Here.
What was she doing here?Now?How had she found me?
She watched me, a quizzical expression on her face, for a beat or two before she pointed to my sopping pants.
“Are you going to get that?”
I blinked rapidly and scrubbed my hands over my face.The wetness of my pants sticking to my upper thighs reminded me I was going to ruin my suit.I dabbed the napkins over the splotch on my shirt just as she put her hand on the pile of napkins to help me.Her hand—soft, smooth, warm—grazed mine.
It wasn’t just electricity.Was much more than just fireworks.It was like every fucking thing I’d gone through in those two years, the hours and hours of therapy—the agonizing pain, the sleepless nights wondering who the eyes that watched me in my dreams belonged to and whether they were real—had all led up to this moment.
Up until then, I hadn’t really put too much weight on fate.Suddenly, I believed.
She gasped.Did she feel it too?
I found my hand reaching for hers, grasping it.I wanted to pull her closer, ask her all of the questions I’d been carrying around with me.Who are you?What were you doing there?Why did you leave so soon?
