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“Of course.”
The fear in the pit of my stomach wasn’t soothed. If anything, it spread, making me wonder if I should get in the car with him.
I wanted Zachary to take me home.
But if I said as much to Preston, I’d only be fanning the flames. I didn’t want to create a confrontation when, miraculously, one hadn’t happened.
We walked to Preston’s car and he opened the passenger door for me. I got in, swallowing hard. Preston wasn’t actually dangerous, was he? He’d never given me a reason to think he might hurt me.
And if Zachary was so convinced he was dangerous, why had he left me alone with him?
He hadn’t. He was going to follow me home.
I didn’t know how I knew—I couldn’t see him or his truck—but I was sure of it. Zachary was going to watch over me until Preston was gone.
Headlights gleamed in the side mirror the entire trip home from the theater, trailing far enough behind us that Preston didn’t seem to notice.
I did.
We parked in my driveway and Preston walked me to my front door. Despite everything, I was strangely calm. He looked me up and down, his eyes calculating. And suddenly it was as if I could see through his sophisticated façade. Could tell what he was really thinking. He was gauging my reaction—my body language, my expression—and deciding how to proceed.
How to get what he wanted.
Like the anger I’d seen in the parking lot at the theater, the look passed quickly. But I couldn’t unsee the truth—the cold, hard calculation behind his eyes and in his actions.
He wanted to be in control, but I wasn’t going to let him.
“A lot happened tonight,” I said, my voice steady, “but I don’t want to discuss it right now. I’m going to go inside.”
“Marigold.” He took my hand gently in his and lifted it to his lips. “I don’t want to end the night like this.”
I slipped my hand from his grip. “I do. I need you to give me space right now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Was he going to back down? I could see the war in his eyes, the desire to overpower me. To manipulate the situation so he could be sure he came out the hero.
I don’t know why he chose to step back, but he did. A few weeks earlier, I would have been fooled—characterized this moment as another sign of his gentlemanly nature. But, that wasn’t what it was, and I could see it now. It was a strategic retreat, for his benefit, not mine.
This had been our last date, but I decided not to say anything yet. The atmosphere was too charged and that tingle of fear still persisted. I wanted to be in public when I told him. My vague sense that Zachary was out there somewhere wasn’t enough. I couldn’t risk it.
“Thank you.”
He took another step back, probably wondering if I was really going to leave him out there in the cold.
I was. I unlocked my door and went inside.
The click of the deadbolt as I locked it behind me eased a tiny bit of my fear, as did the sound of his car leaving a few moments later.
He was gone.
I let out a long breath then checked the rest of my windows and doors to make sure they were locked. I didn’t really think Preston would break into my house in the middle of the night.
But I wasn’t totally convinced he wouldn’t.
I’d seen something tonight, something he’d been expertly hiding from me. There was another layer to Preston Bradford, a different man under the smooth charm.
Zachary may very well have been right. Preston was dangerous.
I went to my front window and peeked out. He was indeed gone, and I didn’t see another car. No sign of Zachary. Maybe he’d gone home when he saw Preston leave.
