by Kylie Scott
“Are you actually trying to tell me that your motives were pure? Seriously?” All I could do was shake my head. In wonder or horror, I don’t even know. “I believed in you and you were nothing but a lie. All along, just lies.”
His lips firmed. “That’s not true. I’m your friend.”
“Bullshit. A friend would never do this.”
Murmurs circled from the people gathered round. And seriously, whatever this was, fuck it. Fuck Eric, Joe, all of mankind, the Internet, and all of my hopes and dreams. I was running straight back to my apartment and staying put. I retreated another step, my butt bumping the back of a chair. It made the most awesome crashing noise as it toppled over, hitting the floor. “Shit. Sorry. I, um…”
The faces surrounding me blurred and a rushing noise filled my head. Christ. All those personal, deeply private things I’d told him. How honest I’d been. But I was just one more stupid girl dreaming of love and a life that was somehow larger. There was nothing for me here.
Time to go.
I turned and made straight for my suitcase. Grabbing the plastic handle, I ran back out the door, the cold night air like a well-earned slap in the face. Out on the sidewalk I tripped in the stupid shoes. Then I continued. I walked faster and faster, putting as much distance as possible between me and the whole debacle.
My case rattled and rolled over the asphalt. From top to toe I felt numb. Nonexistent. The first few drops of rain should have passed right through me instead of soaking into the cotton of my borrowed dress.
“Alex,” a voice yelled from behind me. A male voice. Him.
It only spurred me onward. No cars or signs of life ahead. The whole world seemed to have emptied out. There was just me, that voice, and the storm.
God, I’d been so wrong to come here. So damn wrong.
What the hell had I done?
CHAPTER TWO
Heterosexual female age 29.
Graphic Artist. Works from home.
Seattle born and bred.
Enjoys reading romance, watching action, sci-fi, and horror movies, and shows about building renovations.
No pets unless the squirrel in the tree outside counts. His name is Marty.
Most prized possession is my laptop. All of my work is on there. Except the backup USB I’ve entrusted to Marty.
Most proud of establishing and running my own graphic design business.
In five years’ time I see myself further developing my business, investing in a property, and dabbling in renovating.
Looking for someone who is employed, artistic, neat and attractive, has a sense of humor.
Looking for a fun night out with a new friend.
Sexual compatibility is important.
Most important value in a relationship is honesty.
Heterosexual male age 28.
Restauranteur.
Northern Idaho born and bred.
Enjoys movies and music.
Most prized possession is family and friends.
Most proud of establishing and running a restaurant/bar business all on my own.
In five years’ time I see myself settling down with the woman of my dreams to raise a family in a home we’ve helped to build with our own hands.
Looking for someone who is attractive.
Looking for someone who is open to developing new friendship starting with a fun night out.
Sexual compatibility is extremely important.
Most important value in a relationship is open-mindedness.
“Alex!” called a deep male voice.
I should have known better than to take a chance. Such an idiot. I should have just stuck to crushing on various men on TV. Much safer. As for Valerie encouraging me to buy the plane ticket and instilling me with all of that false hope, the chances of her being beaten over the head with a wet fish in the near future were exceptionally high. And those bastards. Those heartless, soulless assholes playing me for a fool. Men sucked more than any known creature.
“Hey, hold up.” Joe’s big hand wrapped around my arm, bringing me to a halt.
I didn’t even think, just bared my teeth at him.
“Whoa.” He took a hasty step back, setting me free.
“Do not touch me,” I said coldly—right as the heavens opened and rain poured down. Awesome. Just awesome.
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Go away.” I sucked in a harsh breath. “Joe, Eric, whoever the hell you are, it doesn’t matter. Just leave me alone.”
Face set, I turned and continued on my way, in whichever direction would take me far from the Dive Bar and those people, as fast as fucking possible.
“Wait, please,” he said from behind me. “Alex, you have to let me explain. I know I shouldn’t have lied, but Eric was never going to get back to you. I was just going to send a note, telling you not to worry about it. But then I liked talking to you.”
“Good for you.”
Head down, shoulders drawn in, I trudged on. Strands of wet hair clung to my face, the cold seeping into my bones and making me shiver. I was top heavy on account of the padding in my push-up bra absorbing roughly twenty-one ounces of rain on either side. Dolly Parton didn’t have a damn thing on me. And my end-of-season-sale, four-hundred-dollar designer suede shoes were ruined, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. The money was already gone from my “hoarding for a dream home” savings account. Yet another reason to hate the guy.
Shelter was required. Shelter, dry clothes, and a large alcoholic drink, in that exact order. Heavy-assed footsteps splashed along beside me as thunder rolled across the dark and cloudy sky.
“Look, I’m sorry you feel let down. I know you’re after a pretty boy with all the smooth moves and that’s definitely not me,” he continued. “You’re not exactly my type either, for that matter. No offense.”
Douchecanoe.
“But I still think you’re great and us being friends, it’s a good thing. We support each other, Alex.”
I walked faster.
Sadly, with his long legs, the man had no trouble keeping up. “We can talk to each other about anything without any worries about being judged or gossip getting around. I swear, these last few months, you’ve pretty much been the only thing keeping me sane.”
I trotted along as fast as possible, trying to escape him. It still didn’t work.
“Fuck. I told you we should put off meeting.”
I ground to a halt. “Wait, are you actually trying to turn this around on me?”
“No,” he growled. “What I’m trying to do is make a point.”
“And what might that be?” I made my mouth a mean line. “Hmm?”
Water dripped off his beard, soaking into the T-shirt already plastered against his body. I suspected he was carrying off the storm-drenched look better than I was. Bastard. Even by streetlight it was obvious he was fit and strong. A big guy. More barrel-chested where his brother was lean. “My point is that we work as friends and that’s worth saving. And also, I get that you would not have been interested in talking to me if Eric’s photo hadn’t been attached. Would you?”
“I guess we’ll never know.”
“Bullshit.”
“Fuck you,” I spat straight back at him, stabbing him in the chest with a finger. “You lied to me. Over and over again, you lied. You let me believe you were someone else. Does that really say ‘friend’ to you? Blame it on your insecurities, your loneliness, sibling rivalry, whatever. I don’t care. But you made the choice to do that. Not me. You. The end.”
And I meant it. I strode on, leaving him standing there, scowling up a storm. Pun intended.
Lumbersexuals were clearly the worst. Truth was, I’d never been especially into beards. At best, I’d been indifferent. Now, however, I outright despised them. Horrible hairy frames for lying lips and duplicitous tongues, that’s what they were. Loathsome whiskery bastards. Burn them all in a fire.
* * *
“It’s late at ni
ght in the middle of a storm,” Captain Obvious bellowed out after me. “Where are you going, Alex?”
I ignored him and kept walking. Midtown, where the Dive Bar was located, didn’t offer many options. A couple of shops, all currently closed. Coeur d’Alene itself, however, was a decent-size place. As soon as I escaped my stalker I’d pull out my cell and call an Uber. Find the nearest hotel or something.
“Downtown’s another six blocks. You seriously going to walk all that way in the rain?”
And now I knew I was heading in the right direction.
“At least let me help you with your suitcase.”
I gripped the handle of my half-rolling, half-bouncing suitcase harder, and ignored him.
A steady flow of grumbling punctuated by more than the occasional profanity followed along behind me. It was pretty much just him, me, my rattling suitcase, and the sound of the rain. He had to give up and go away eventually. Surely.
But he didn’t.
When I at long last trudged up the steps to the Lake Hotel, it was with him still in tow. All the way I’d ignored him. Now he stood, waiting patiently out in the rain, as I entered the building. The place was nice. A glowing fire pit with a leather lounge, and big floor-to-ceiling windows looking out into the darkness.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” A polite young man stood behind the front desk, smile frozen in place.
“I’d like a room, please,” I said with as much dignity as I could muster. Not easy with me dripping on their tiled floor. Oh, and my legs were splattered with drops of mud. The designer suede heels had turned a sad sort of brown from walking through puddles along the side of the road. Lovely. The cold rain had almost frozen me solid and blisters covered what remained of my feet. I couldn’t have felt more sorry for myself. “If you have one available?”
“Of course.” It took a moment longer than it should have for his gaze to move from me to the computer. Fair enough. “I have a Classic or we also have a—”
“Does it have a hot shower and a mini-bar?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I’ll take it.”
He blinked. “Ah. Yes, ma’am. I’ll arrange that for you right now.”
I almost wept with gratitude. But the boy behind the desk looked weirded out enough by my sodden self already. Ever so subtly I peeked over my shoulder. The street was empty. He was gone. Phew.
I wondered how long it would take for this whole little adventure to turn into some funny story I told people. Except no part of me was amused. Not even a single cell. My Eric, the beautiful man from the Internet, didn’t exist. Not really. Because the guy who’d charmed me with long, rambling emails about life and everything was a liar. And everyone knew, you couldn’t trust a liar.
Again I gazed over my shoulder, out into the rain. He was still gone. I’d probably never see him again and that was for the best. It was. Tomorrow I’d go home. Back to the safety of my apartment and my neatly organized, uncomplicated life. Eventually I’d forget all the things we’d shared in those emails, the sense of companionship and the excitement of seeing that name in my inbox. The way I’d started to shuffle my life around reading his nightly missives. For not the first time tonight, I blinked back tears, ignoring the sting of saltwater in my eyes.
Yep, it would all fade. And I’d be fine.
CHAPTER THREE
Message received six months ago:
Alex,
Saw your profile. Looking at traveling to Seattle for business soon. Would love to take you to dinner if you’re available?—Eric
Message sent:
Hi Eric,
Nice to meet you. What dates are you thinking you’ll be in town? I’d be interested in hearing more about your restaurant. Are you seriously considering working on your own house? I’ve got grand schemes to update my one-bedroom apartment sometime. But a whole house … wow.
Alex
“You’re kidding,” cried Val, her outrage coming through on my mobile as a tinny squawk.
“Nope.” The elevator doors slid back and I stepped out into the hotel lobby. The bright morning sun glaring through the hotel’s windows mocked my crap mood. “Wish I was.”
“Lying fucking asshole.”
“You said it.” I stopped to blow my nose. The sound was anything but pretty. Yes, care of the delightful walk in the rain last night, I’d woken up with a raging head cold. Sore throat, red and runny nose, and pounding head. It basically felt like someone had hung me upside down and filled my nasal passages with quick-dry cement. Just when you thought things couldn’t get better.
“God, you sound horrible,” she said. “To think, he friend-zoned you before you’d ever even met. I’d had such high hopes for him.”
“You and me both.” I sighed.
“And I encouraged you.” A pause. “Shouldn’t you be pointing out that deep down you were right and I was wrong? You should probably also be lecturing me about your uncomplicated-life theory.”
“Meh. You’ve heard it all before and I don’t have the energy.”
“Aw, you poor thing. If you can’t even manage an ‘I told you so,’ then you really are feeling sucky.” She huffed out a breath.
Valerie and I’d had each other’s back since the same group of bullies had targeted us in eighth grade. I’d always been mousy, clutzy, and generally clueless. An easy target for the cool kids wanting to establish their supremacy in the school hallways. Back then, Valerie had been Vincent, and he’d never fitted in either. We’d nursed each other through all manner of insults, broken hearts, and then a sex change. So I guess it fell under her job description to get up in arms on my behalf now. But I, on the other hand, was done. Mostly dead and emotionally spent. Every last fuck I had to give had fled during the night, never to be heard from again.
“I’m coming out there,” she announced, voice firm.
I scrunched up my face. “Why on earth would you come out here? Hopefully, I’ll be on a plane home this afternoon. Tonight at the latest.”
“Doesn’t matter. This Joe-Eric-jerkoff needs his ass kicked. I’m coming.”
“You’re not coming.”
“I’m coming and I’m wearing my fiercest pointy-toed stilettos,” she said. “You haven’t seen these ones, they’re new. Leopard print. That boy’s ass is grass.”
“Oh, that reminds me. The heels got trashed.”
She gasped. “Not the half-price YSL!”
“Yep. I told you I couldn’t be trusted with designer.”
“But those shoes looked so good on you. That settles it. I’m definitely coming out there to hurt him.”
I took a deep breath. Through my mouth, not my nose. My nose just wasn’t an option.
“God, you sound like shit,” said Val.
I grunted and blew my nose. A mucus factory, that was me.
“Yuck. That’s disgusting. Seriously, I’m not sure you should fly in that condition,” she said, voice concerned.
“I’ll be fine.” I shoved my wad of tissues back into my jeans pocket. “I just need coffee.”
Even from behind my sunglasses the early morning light dazzled. I stepped out of the hotel and paused, giving my eyes a chance to adjust. Downtown Coeur d’Alene was quiet first thing in the morning, with the odd car cruising by, and a couple of signs advertising cafés sat out on the sidewalk farther up the street. All of the assorted fancy-clothes and gift-shop-type places were still closed. The cool air tickled dangerously at my nose and throat. Stupid cold.
A heavy sigh from Val. “Are you sure I can’t come out there and commit violence in your name?”
“I appreciate the thought.”
“There’s lots of woods in that area. I promise they’d never find the body.”
“Be rational,” I said. “You know you hate nature.”
“You never let me have any fun.”
“I know, I’m the worst.”
“Call me if you change your mind,” she said. “I’ll be here … sharpening my shoes.”
/> “Thanks.” I laughed softly. It was the only semblance of mirth I could manage. “Later.”
Coffee. Right.
I could do this.
A beat-up silver Bronco sat at the curb. The thing was basically a monster truck—probably normal around these parts. Getting up hills in heavy snow would take some work. Though it wasn’t the truck that caught my attention. Nope, it was the ridiculous tangled mass of blond hair and beard pressed against the side window that made me stop in my tracks.
Damn. It couldn’t be. I stepped closer. “Eri … Joe?”
Sleeping Beauty slept on.
Don’t tap the glass. Let sleeping stalkers lie. Don’t tap the glass.
And yet … ever so politely, I tapped on the glass.
“Huh?” A groan accompanied the batting of eyelids and much squinting. “Yeah, yeah. I’m awake.”
Slowly, the window rolled down.
“Hey,” he said, voice still thick with sleep. “Morning.”
We just kind of stared at each other, perplexed.
“You slept in your car?” I asked.
A shrug. “Didn’t want you to leave before we had a chance to talk.”
I turned away, crossed my arms.
“Look, Alex … can we talk?” The car door cracked open and I took one giant step back as he stood tall on the sidewalk. He looked beyond rumpled, fitting, given the circumstances. Before beginning his vigil, he’d obviously changed out of last night’s wet clothes. Long legs were encased in another worn pair of blue jeans, and a faded gray hoodie covered his upper half. The width of his mighty shoulders was stretching the material a little. Equally large feet, or at least seriously large sneakers, completed the outfit. I wondered, did guys ever buy oversize shoes to try and benefit from the feet-to-penis-size belief? Was there a market for that? And I was standing there staring at the man’s crotch in a total daze.
My gaze darted to his face, cracked wide yet again on a yawn. Thank goodness he hadn’t caught me. That would have been bad. I really needed to get my sick wandering thoughts under control.
“Please?” he asked, eyes all intense.
“I’m pretty sure we covered everything last night.”
For a moment he hung his head, then he looked me straight in the eye. “I’m pretty sure we didn’t. Please. Let me buy you breakfast. You need food, right? Coffee?”