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“What kind of ideas?”
“Well, if I gave you flowers, next thing you know, Raj and Manesh are going to want flowers, and then…” He trails off with a shrug.
“Why them? Because they’re gay?” Frankie’s question is sharp, loud in the half-empty parking structure.
“You about done sticking your foot in your mouth, man?” I interrupt, cutting off the next thing out of Frankie’s mouth. I look down at her, smiling when I see the pink color in her cheeks. “Good night, Derek.”
I pull her with me to my truck without looking at him. When we get to the gap between our cars, I hesitate. I swing Frankie gently up against the door of my truck, bracing my arms on either side of her head, bags and shit forgotten. “Are you okay?”
She blows out, ruffling the hair by her face. “Yeah. Is he still there?”
“I don’t give a fuck. Are you okay?” I ask again. Once again, my overprotectiveness is triggered, and again, it’s by Frankie. At least there’s no blood this time.
“I’m fine. I’m really fucking pissed, but I’m fine.” She purses her lips, then puffs out her cheeks, letting it go with a little pop. Her back is pressed against my truck, and I realize that I’ve got her trapped—caged between my arms. She should look scared. She’s frightened of everything. So why isn’t she afraid of me right now?
“You look like a chipmunk—is that really your ‘fucking pissed off’ face?” I blurt out the question before I think better of it.
“That’s my ‘I’m fucking done with that homophobic asshole’ face. And don’t call me a chipmunk, you big moose.” She scrunches her face before resting a hand against my chest. “I’m going to call you Bullwinkle from now on.”
The teasing breaks the tension, allowing me to break away from her green eyes and glance around.
“Okay, Rocky.” I’m waiting for her to push me away, to take the space she usually wants from me, but she doesn’t. Does she want me crowding her space like this? Or is she too intimidated to push back?
After a few tense moments, she pushes me away to peer around the structure. “Is he gone?”
“He’s gone. I saw him go around the corner a second ago.” I refrain from telling her he flipped me a double bird on his way. A new thought pings around in my mind. “He doesn’t know where you live, does he?”
Frankie starts back from where she’d been peering around the truck, crashing into me. I steady her with a hand on each arm. “Where I live?” Now real fear is in her eyes. “I d-don’t think so…”
“Do you want me to follow you, make sure he’s not there? Wait, that’s not a question. I’m going to follow you home and make sure that asshole isn’t there.”
“How could he even know? Only HR has that information.”
I give her a raised eyebrow. “I know you’re smarter than that, Frankie.”
She huffs again, but the shiver that runs down her spine gives her away. “Fine.”
We gather up her gifts and put them in the trunk of her Prius before climbing into our respective cars. Portland traffic is the usual mess until we get away from downtown. I follow until she pulls her car into a covered carport, the apartment building behind it overgrown with trees.
“You really didn’t have to follow me, Julian.” Frankie has both bags looped over her arms before she finishes her sentence. “It’s fine. Really.” She attempts to raise her arms. “I got it.”
“How are you going to unlock the door?” I pull the bags from her before she can protest. “Let me help.”
Silent, Frankie turns on her heel and walks away, heading to the ground-floor apartment ahead. I follow, head on a swivel, looking for any sign of Derek. There’s no trace of him, just an elderly woman walking her dog a few yards down. I lift a few fingers to wave at her and am met with a raised eyebrow and a frown.
“For fuck's sake, don’t wave at Karen,” Frankie groans as I follow her through the front door, bags banging into both of us. “Now the whole neighborhood is going to know there was a man inside my apartment.”
“Is her name really Karen?”
Frankie puts her crap down on the floor. “Yes. Alright, I’m home, safe and sound, see?”
Intrigued by the desk and multiple monitors taking up half of the studio apartment, I don’t take her obvious hint that I should leave. Instead, I wander over to check out her setup. A glance tells me it’s a serious gaming setup. Liam would be jealous.
“How about I order us some dinner?” I must surprise her with my offer because she’s silent. “Frankie?”
There’s one of those old-fashioned folding screens across one corner. I assume her bed is behind it. It seems like a tiny space for a bed, but what do I know?
There’s no couch, just the massive chair and desk, so I spin it around and sit in it, pulling my phone out of my pocket.
