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“No good. Either do it now or I’ll do it for you, and then I’ll let Dad in on what’s happening.”
Well, she could tell Derek what he needed to hear now and then do what she darn well pleased later. “Fine. I’ll call the police in the morning.” Derek was more likely to accept that answer from her than any other. He shared her sentiments when it came to having personal security around. “Happy?”
“I’d prefer if you called a security firm too. The police can’t watch you twenty-four seven, but I know what a pain in the ass a bodyguard can be. Don’t know how Uncle Warren stands having a shadow all the time. Promise me, if you get anything else, you’ll get some personal security.”
She didn’t want to think about getting any other gifts. “I will. Cross my heart.”
Derek’s sigh came through the phone. “I don’t like it, but okay. Give the police a call right now and if you need me, call. I can be there in a few hours.”
Allison promised Derek again she’d call the police once they finished their conversation and then hung up. Most of the pizza she’d made remained on her plate, but her appetite was gone. Finding out a stranger was sending you gifts had a way of doing that.
So if Derek hadn’t sent the teddy bear and candy, who had? It wouldn’t be impossible to figure out where she worked. Her name and picture had been added to the Falmouth Foundation website, so a quick search of her name would bring up that information. But how would they know to send Favre chocolates? It certainly wasn’t a chocolate every store stocked. In fact, few people in the States had even heard of it yet. Had the sender made a lucky guess or was it someone she came in contact with on a regular basis? Or did she have a stalker out there? Someone who followed her around and watched where she went and what she bought.
She tried to push the last thought out of her mind. Unfortunately, the idea of a stalker brought back the memory of how her house security system hadn’t been on Sunday night when she and Rock returned.
“I’m overreacting.” She checked the lock on the kitchen door before tossing the cold pizza in the trash and heading out of the room.
She’d switched on the television and the lights in every room, yet she remained restless as she read articles about hockey on the Internet. If she and Rock were going to a game Saturday, she wanted to at least understand some of the basics. Unfortunately, her focus kept straying away from the information, and every time she heard even the tiniest of sounds, she jumped half a mile out of her chair.
Since she’d moved to Virginia, she’d been a little on edge. More than once she’d been out and gotten the feeling someone watched her. Each time it happened, she told herself it was her imagination. She’d almost completely convinced herself of that until her car accident. She hadn’t been far from Jake’s house when she spotted the headlights behind her. At first she’d thought it was just someone heading in a similar direction. Then they’d gotten much closer and stayed right on her bumper for a good ten minutes. Unsure if the car was following her or not, she turned so she could return to her cousin’s. Like a shadow, the car had done the same. Shaken up, she started checking her rearview mirror more and more the closer she got to Jake’s neighborhood. Caught up in what was going on behind her, she hadn’t seen the other car skid on the slick roads and plow though the intersection and into her car. If she’d been paying attention, she might have been able to stop or swerve out of the way. Thankfully, the worst of her injuries had been a broken leg, and the driver of the other car had only needed some stitches.
She hadn’t told anyone about the car behind her that night. Instead, she’d convinced herself it had been a coincidence. The little bear and candy at the office had her reconsidering her belief. From now on, she’d need to be extra vigilant while out alone.
Unable to focus on anything, she gave up reading about hockey and the responsibilities of each player. The game wasn’t until Saturday. She had Thursday and Friday night to learn more about the rules. Picking up the remote, she flipped through the stations until she found the popular new sitcom she’d started watching in the fall. The show didn’t require much brainpower and always made her laugh. It was the kind of show she needed tonight.
***
The specifics of their date still eluded him. How could he plan an evening out when they had zilch in common? Regardless, he’d promised he’d call, and he never backed out of a promise. Rock dropped his wallet and keys on the counter and brought up Allison’s number on his smartphone. He’d stored it in his contact list the night he’d joined her, Trent, and Addie for dinner but hadn’t thought he’d need it. The phone rang several times and he expected her voicemail to pick up soon. When it did, he’d leave her a message, and if she was still interested in going out, she could call him back. If she’d changed her mind, he would have fulfilled his promise.
Her voicemail never picked up. Instead, her sultry voice greeted him. “Hello.”
“Allison, it’s Rock.”
“Rock, hi.” The hint of uncertainty he’d detected in her voice when she first answered disappeared. “I’m glad you called. I’ve been planning our night out.”
Having a woman plan an evening out was a first for him. He only hoped whatever she had in mind didn’t include the ballet or some equally ridiculous event. Once he’d been forced to attend the ballet as part of a school fieldtrip. He’d fallen asleep a quarter of the way through and stayed that way until his teacher rudely woke him up with a boney finger to the shoulder.
He had no desire to see guys running around in tights again and nothing except perhaps a 9mm pistol pressed up against his back would get him back to the ballet.
“I already ordered tickets for the hockey game. It sta
rts at seven. There’s a great barbecue restaurant not far from here. I thought we could have dinner there before we head into DC. Or we can stop somewhere after the game. Up to you. Either works for me.”
The words hockey and Allison Sherbrooke didn’t belong in the same sentence. She struck him as the refined, theater-going, opera-loving, socialite portrayed in the movies. No movie he’d ever watched showed a woman like Allison drinking beer and cheering at a hockey game. “Sounds good.” If she’d ordered them already, he’d keep his mouth shut and be damn happy she hadn’t bought tickets to the ballet instead. “When do you want me to pick ya up?”
“How does around five sound?”
“That works.”
“Great. I’ll see you Saturday night,” Allison said, sounding as eager as he felt.
“See ya.” Rock hung up and ran a hand down his neck. The woman kept throwing him. He’d pegged Allison as your typical socialite, similar to those in the media, the kind of woman who liked lots of attention and only the best of everything. Her actions blew that theory out of the water. In fact, if he hadn’t known who lurked on her family tree, he would’ve assumed she was just any other woman. A woman who’d planned what he’d consider a perfect night out. He could accept that she liked barbecue. Lots of people did, but hockey? He didn’t buy that one. They talked about a lot of things the night he escorted her to the fundraiser, but not sports. While hockey had its loyal fans, it wasn’t as popular as football or baseball. The only way she would’ve known he enjoyed the game was if she’d asked his sister. Would she have bothered calling Addie? A few months ago, he would’ve said hell no. Why would she go out of her way, when men probably bent over backward for her all the time? Tonight, however, it was the only explanation, which meant his sister was going to love telling him she’d been right.
Hell.
Chapter 6
Rock mulled over his earlier convo with Eric Coleman as he vacuumed his truck, not that it needed to be done. Much like his apartment, he kept his truck spotless and he’d vacuumed it right before the fundraiser. Still, it gave him something to do. He’d spent as much time as he could at the range earlier shooting both his 9mm pistol as well as the .44 magnum revolver he’d purchased last month. Only the fact that he’d run out of practice ammo had sent him packing.
