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I get up and run for the elevator, squeezing into a corner before I mash the button just in case he’s still lingering in the lobby.
Nope. I get to the first floor just in time to see him outside, climbing into the company car as he says a few words to Louis.
I’m too late.
There’s no way I’ll catch up with him on two wheels.
But when I see a flash of yellow driving by, I just can’t help myself. I throw myself outside and gesture for the cab.
Water splashes my shins as the taxi swerves to the curb, spraying the afternoon rain puddles before stopping.
Awesome. Now that I’m drenched, I guess I’m committed.
I climb into the back seat and look around.
Lincoln is two cars ahead of us now, wedged between a sleek sports car and a service van for a cable company.
I point in front of us. “Follow that town car, please.”
The guy in the front seat laughs and looks back at me in the mirror. “Just like the movies, huh? As long as you’re not expecting me to break any traffic laws...”
“Whatever. No. Just follow them!”
I sit back, remembering to breathe. The driver’s reaction reminds me how crazy this is.
Here I am, openly stalking my lunk of a boss who gets in my face about mystery flowers and then seemingly has the perfect place for them. Not something that would rustle anybody normal.
But a normal person would run.
Far, far away from this stupid crush after the half kiss that night overlooking the city that almost detonated our entire lives.
I’m not normal, though.
I’m a freaking Poe.
So I let my brain feast on all the crazy possibilities involving Lincoln Burns and that bouquet as we drive for about fifteen minutes in slow traffic.
We pass Sweeter Grind without the town car stopping, and then wind around the city for a few more blocks.
The other end of the park, I realize.
Oof.
Was he serious about giving my flowers to the homeless? But why would Wyatt want hydrangeas?
I’m totally baffled.
“You want me to make the block before I pull in, so they don’t know you’re stalking them?” taxi driver asks, looking back at me with a nosy grin.
“I’m not stalking,” I lie. “I just need to know where he’s going. Important business.”
The guy throws back a big belly laugh. Yeah, I don’t believe me either.
“Ma’am, that’s textbook stalking, but don’t worry. I won’t tattle. You sure you don’t want to make the block?”
I shake my head fiercely.
“No. Just pull in and keep your distance from the other car...”
I hear driver boy snicker loudly to himself again. One more reminder I’m being ridiculous, but when you’re in this deep...
I watch breathlessly as Lincoln slides out of the town car, nodding at Louis before he starts walking toward the row of tents.
Huh. Maybe Wyatt likes hydrangeas after all? I suppose it could brighten up his space or something.
I wait at least another minute. Once Lincoln seems far enough away to avoid seeing me, I pay the driver and slip out the back.
I think I get five strides down the sidewalk before the cab engine roars behind me—he’d better get that checked out—and Lincoln spins around to face the deafening noise.
There’s only a small group of people walking and riding bikes between us. His eyes find me easily through the crowd.
Oh, crap.
There isn’t even time to get away before he’s coming toward me with a frown. His body is as straight as an arrow, jaw set and shoulders squared.
Here it comes. The cost of this dumb decision. I should’ve just logged out and went home and let some mysteries remain unsolved.
“How did you even hear that car?” I ask as he closes in, deciding to try brushing this off as nothing.
He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of me, barely a few inches apart, looking down. “You shouldn’t keep following me here, Nevermore. It isn’t always safe.”
Ah, it’s lecture time. Awesome.
“Chill. I just wanted to see what you were doing with my flowers, and since you wouldn’t spill the big secret...”
“I told you,” he growls, his eyes dark with distrust.
“And I didn’t believe your non-explanation, bossman. You didn’t exactly elaborate,” I mutter.
That wins me a smirk, even as he folds his arms.
“I told you enough. Are you calling me a liar, Dakota Poe?”
“Depends. Why does Wyatt want my flowers?” I say, flicking back a loose strand of hair.
But Lincoln stops me. He reaches out, swats my hand away, and tucks the hair behind my ear with slow, measured practice.
My toes scrunch up in my shoes.
It’s insane how even the simplest touch makes me a flaming mess.
“He doesn’t want flowers, and neither do you,” he says, his eyes reaching into me.
Oh, God.
Stay strong.
“So, you do have a homeless girlfriend?” I ask, hating that I feel a flick of jealousy. I don’t even know her and she probably isn’t real, but I already want to claw her eyes out with my nails. I’m just annoyed she might exist. But part of me also wants to slap him for allowing his made-up girlfriend to remain homeless.
