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She made a sound that could have been a laugh but was probably more a choke.
“So what’s your name?” he asked.
Words wouldn’t come. Not only had her mouth dried up, but her throat seemed to constrict to a pinpoint. Just enough to drag in enough air to survive. She was rapidly losing control of the situation and couldn’t handle it. The rational, intellectual side of her brain knew exactly how ridiculous she was being. Sure, he was a little assertive, but he hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. Hadn’t touched her inappropriately, hadn’t been creepy, hadn’t crossed any lines. He was just being a typical male looking for some female company. But the side of her that had been violated still had jagged open wounds.
And she was internally freaking the fuck out.
His blonde brows narrowed. “Your name?”
She opened her mouth, and nothing came out but a wheeze.
Shit.
Shaking her head, she turned so her back was to him. Hopefully he’d get the message and just leave.
“What the hell?” he said.
Chloe just shook her head again. Now her breath was coming in choppy gasps that made the room waver before her eyes. She bent forward, resting her head between her knees. Some of the pressure in her chest eased. “Please just go,” she managed to gasp out.
“Shit, you don’t have to be a bitch about it,” he growled. “You aren’t that hot, anyway.”
“What the fuck is going on here?”
Oh great, now Scott had joined the party.
“You harassing her, man?” Scott said, aggression coming off him in waves.
Chloe lifted her head. The room spun so bad she grabbed the edge of the table for support. “I-it’s…fine…Scott.” She was still panting like she’d just run circles around the room.
Immediately her brother’s attention jumped from the guy to her. He abandoned the near-fight and wrapped her in his arms. Her cheek pressed against his chest, the steady beat of his heart helping to return hers to a normal rhythm.
“This is too fucking weird for me. I’m out.” The guy said, lifting his arms in surrender.
“He hurt you?” Scott asked practically growling the words.
“No.”
“Scare you?”
“No—I don’t even…” Chloe sighed. “I just freaked out. I’m sorry.”
Releasing her, Scott sat in the chair the guy had vacated.
Chloe turned away. How could she look him in the eye after he’d witnessed her lose her shit over nothing?
“Hey, don’t do that.” Scott grabbed her chin and turned her face his way. “Don’t hide. I’m your brother, Clo. You’re favorite brother.” While she appreciated the attempt at levity, she couldn’t muster so much as a huff of laughter. “I’m not going anywhere, sis. You think I don’t understand psychological pain? You think I haven’t seen some of my brothers in arms lose it over even less? It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“It’s embarrassing,” Chloe whispered.
“Nah. Who gives a fuck what these clowns think.” He winked.
She was able to give him a small smile though her heart felt like it was resting on the floor.
“Come on,” he said, tugging on her arm. “Let’s get you home. We can watch one of those cooking competitions you love so much.”
The plan sounded nice, but she’d never forgive herself if he missed time with his friend over this little setback. “No. You go to see your friend. I’m good to get myself home.”
Scott frowned. “I don’t know, Chloe.”
Sitting a little straighter, she said, “Seriously, Scott. I’m fine now and I’ll be even better once I’m home.”
Ten minutes later after a hug goodbye and a promise to text Scott as soon as she was inside with the doors locked, Chloe was cruising down the highway.
Only she wasn’t going home. There was only one thing that would right what happened tonight. One way to get her head on straight.
She needed to take back some of the control she’d lost at the winery.
Pulling off the highway, Chloe steered her car toward one of her favorite bars. As soon as she arrived, she’d call and reserve her room for the night.
CHAPTER TEN
WITHOUT FAIL, FRIDAY and Saturday nights Rocket could set his watch by Chloe.
With calendar precision, she rotated the bars she patronized, and always arrived at seven in the evening. Not once in the months he’d been tailing her had she deviated from the almost ritualistic process.
So why the hell was he sitting in a darkened parking lot at nearly eight at night twiddling his fucking thumbs?
Screw why he was waiting so long, why the fuck was he there in the first place? He fucked her. Now, he had indisputable knowledge she was screwing the men she picked up. And he even knew why she was doing it. Had a better understanding of the internal workings of her damaged psyche. He’d gotten the information he’d been after, yet here he was, one week later, still tracking her like some obsessed stalker.
