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Unknown Number: I’m watching you.
My steps falter as my heart pounds.
“Watch where you’re going, little girl.”
I jump, and two large hands curl around my shoulders as I run into someone. Looking up from the screen, I’m hit by the deep, ocean blue eyes of Professor Etienne Martin boring into me.
Yowza!
“I-I’m sorry.”
“Good evening, professor.”
His deep voice barely penetrates as I anxiously look around for whoever texted me.
“Did you just text me?” I ask, almost hoping he’s the person who’s sent me several odd messages today. Even though the idea is creepy and would lower his hotness factor by about ninety-seven percent.
“No.” He looks confused.
“Are you sure?” The heavy food in my stomach is becoming unsettled and making me queasy.
“Yes.” The space between his eyes pinches together before smoothing out. “You haven’t given me your number yet.”
“Right, sorry.” I try to smile and move around him.
“Stop.”
His voice’s sternness, the Daddy-ness, halts my steps and forces me to slowly turn around. He crooks his finger. Wordlessly, I take two steps back to stand in front of him.
He says gently, “What’s the matter?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I attempt to assure him.
“Show me.” He takes my phone from my trembling fingers and glances at the string of text messages. “When did these messages start?”
“Today,” I say. “I’m sure it’s a wrong number.”
“Or not,” he growls as my phone buzzes in his hand as another message appears. Etienne’s head jerks up as his eyes dart around the deserted hallway.
Chapter 2
Etienne
“Etienne, you look the same.” Marcus smiles, stretching out a hand. “It’s great to see you.”
“You too.” I grip him in a quick shake before we seat ourselves at the corner of the bar. “How long has it been?”
“Too long,” he replies, grinning.
Several weeks ago, I reconnected with Marcus, a childhood friend online, and we made plans to catch up at the local ski resort’s bar this evening. Marcus had returned to town after college and become a decorated detective with the sheriff’s department. We lost touch after high school, and I’m looking forward to renewing our friendship. Whether or not moving home was a good idea is still debatable, as is my decision to take up teaching at the local college. I hope it will be a new challenge, and the students have certainly been so far.
The bartender interrupts our conversation. “Detective, I’ll be right with you, just need to make a few cocktails and deliver them to the Wednesday night ladies.”
Marcus introduces me to Tony and casually asks if all the ladies are here tonight. The question of why he chose this rundown bar and not one of the pubs near the sheriff station had crossed my mind earlier. I’m not a detective, but I strongly suspect his choice to meet this evening was no coincidence. My interest isn’t truly piqued until I glance at the table where several women are sitting, their heads bent over the table.
“What are they doing?” I ask.
“Every week, a bunch of them come in, order cocktails and appetizers, and sit quietly coloring. It’s some weird de-stressing thing apparently.” Tony rolls his eyes, but adds quickly, as if to soften his attitude, “They’re all polite and tip wicked well though, so no complaints here.”
