Page 26 of Painting Her Fate

Best be kept that way.

His lips quirk making that dimple of his more noticeable, “Well, ‘just Lili’, are you in town for the conference at the arena?” His callused thumb rubs at the top of my hand as I shake my head, thoroughly distracted. How am I not freaking the hell out right the second?

It’s not often people will hear an accent like mine in this area; French probably, given we’re so close to the Canadian border, but anytime I speak I stand out like a sore thumb.

I’m a proud Scot who was raised in London. I’ve tried dampening my heritage accent as it makes people wonder what I saw sometimes. *Do not draw attention.*

“Just visiting.” I say as I breathe a comforting sigh.Hold it together

Lili. Focus.“The accent throws people for a loop.”

Zander’s dimple deepens, “I rather like your accent.”

His thumb continues its wonderful stroking along my skin, and it takes everything I have not to let my mistress free, to reel this man into playtime.He is injured damn it! Stop it!My inner battle rages on. Oh, how she would have a field day with this man. My cheeks heat on their own accord. I’m not one for complements and he must sense my unease as he clears his throat ready to change the subject.

“So, what brings you to Buffalo? Business, or pleasure?” His last word rings like a winning bell inside my head.

Ding, ding, ding.

Not happening. This is not the time nor the place for that!My mood sobers as my smile fades, the truth of why I’m here dropping like a led balloon. I cast my eyes to our hands, hands that still have yet to unclasp. I’m not complaining.

I meet his stare, “My dad was in a motorcycle accident a couple days ago.” I spill it out faster than my mind had time to think. My eyes widen a fraction, and he takes notice.Why am I telling him this?

His smile fades as he straightens with a grunt of discomfort, concern now edged in his brow, “Sorry to hear about your dad, is he going to be alright?” His sympathy seems genuine enough. Can I trust him? I do not know him. So, no. I cannot. Keep closed off, Lili.

First the hospital, now here. Is everyone always this nice?I seem to wonder that each time I visit here.

Other than my neighbors Emma and Wyatt, I tend to keep to myself as much as possible and for good reason. The only time I’m right at home is when I’m in my element. Whenever I’m in town, I make it a priority to go to the recreation center to visit Miss. Gloria and the children. I enjoy watching their faces light at the promise of new art materials, equipment, and toys. It warms my heart when I get to see them over a video call, but it’s even better to be here and visit in person. I’ll have to be sure to check in with Miss. Gloria to see what they need, then I’ll pop in and surprise everyone.

Are you going to answer the man or have him continue to think you have a staring problem?

I clear my throat to rid myself of the embarrassment.

“Other than a few broken bones and a bit of road rash, he is otherwise in good spirits.” Not to mention he is asking for my help to escape the hospital. Persistent man.

We fall into conversation about the area, his business, and what my London life is like. It’s easy to talk to this man and I cannot for the life of me distinguish why. Any question I wasn’t apt to answer I shifted the conversation. Keep it casual. That is all this is, no need for other personal items to be told.

How about fun thrown in the mix? Just ask him. Please.My mistress pleads. Not going to happen. Absolutely not! I let go of his hand. Best to not touch so as to dampen the temptation.

Officer Branson, a tall man with a clef chin stops to check on us. He and my savior clasp hands then fall into easy conversation. Zander seems to know him well and the ease of their chat shows that it’s been a while since they’ve done this. I sit there and take it in, chiming in when they mention the art and theater district nearby. As I listen to them talk, I find myself wanting to know more about Zander. I let my mind wander and think of what I have yet to do today. That list is growing.

“Thanks Tom, hope you can make it to watch the band play tomorrow.”

This piques my interest. A band? *hums* Easy prey for satisfying my mistress, although I cannot help but think her mind is already made up, whether I like it or not.

The officer’s grin is wide, eyes gazing into the past, “Wouldn’t miss it. Be just like old times, right, man?” Tom crosses his arms and lifts his chin in my direction, “If you’re into rock music you should come check them out. Awesome band: they sure know how to rile up a crowd.”

“They’re trying to keep it on the down-low and used the original band name.” Zander starts in, “it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea for you hang around, make sure things do not get too out of hand.” He huffs, tension lacing his tone now, “If word leaks on social media, they are doing this surprise show, everyone and their brother will be wanting in.”

“Oh, damn. You’re right about that.” Tom thinks for a second, “I bet Derrek didn’t even tell his manager they were doing this.” He laughs, a bit of a boyish grin playing at his lips, “he’s going to be so pissed!” He grins shaking his head, “always the rebel, that crew.” He looks over his shoulder to the woman in uniform. She gives him a wave which has him giving a chin lift in recognition, the sign they’re finished here. “Guess I’ll see you guys soon.”

“Sounds good. Take it easy, man.” Zander says then we watch as Tom strides to the car, folds his body into the passenger seat and they depart.

The female EMT, Linda, makes her way over.

“Alright Mr. Gorski. If you’re not wanting a ride to the hospital, I just need you to sign here, and we’ll be out of your hair.” She held the clipboard and pen to him, her face lighting in admiration with a slight hint of hesitation.

“Can you sign this too? You’re my son’s hero. He’s sixteen and is dead set on enlisting.” Linda’s features soften as a mother’s would when speaking about their child, “My boy, Jackson, he’s had a rough go of it in school these past few years, but what you said to him, changed him.” She begins rambling and her eyes turn wistful, “That day of the parade, you told him he could be anything, do anything, as long as he worked hard for it.”

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