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“Not only guilty men,” he spits back. “Sometimes men who’ve been hurt by the law hold a grudge. Men who wanted to go to the police for help, but the police were the enemy. Not every cop follows the law, Elizabeth.”
I slam my head back against the shelf as though he hit me. Heat burns my eyes despite the fact he doesn’t truly know me. He’s not talking about me or my family, because he doesn’t know us. But the fact he says those words still cuts me.
“I’m sorry you needed help and couldn’t find it.”
A moment of truth settles between us. From the man who wants to push my buttons, and me trying to act tough, to both of us simply feeling the truth pulse in the air. He was hurt by the police, and now he can’t trust us.
His Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes flicker between mine. I don’t know this man, but I feel the heat now just as I felt it when he stared into my eyes at the gym.
“Do you believe in prophecy?” I feel so dumb asking such a question. “Do you think dreams can predict the future?”
“Well…” His brows pull tight as he brings a hand up to straighten the hem of my shirt. “I’m not sure. I guess, in a way. I often dream about things for work. It’s where I get much of my inspiration.”
I give a gentle nod and swallow. “I feel like I know you. I dreamt about you before I met you, and now it feels like I recognize you in real life.”
He considers my words for a moment. “Was I the good guy in your dreams? Or the villain?”
“You were…” I swallow. “Watchful, I guess. I feel like I know your eyes, and you stare so much that it confuses me. I would remember if I’d ever met Theodore Griffin. I obviously haven’t, but my dreams are clashing with reality, and my reality is that you helped me in the weight room one time for thirty seconds, but I feel like there’s more.”
“It bothers you not having clarity?” he asks softly.
“I like to be in control of things,” I admit. “I hate surprises; they don’t bring me happiness, they bring me anxiety. So to dream of this blue-eyed man, then to meet him the very next day…” I blow out a heavy exhale and shake my head. “It’s fucking with me.”
The worry clears from his eyes, and a smile tugs his lips higher. “You got a potty mouth, huh? That’s kinda sexy.”
I roll my eyes and slip out from between his heavy body and the shelves. Here I am, going deep with a stranger in the store and telling him about my dreams, and all he can do is smile at my cussing. “Forget about it.”
“Yes.” He grabs my hand and swings me back around until our chests crash together. He gets a sore neck from looking down, and I get a sore neck from looking up. “Yes, I think dreams can be prophetic sometimes. I guess some call it déjà vu, some call it coincidence.”
“I don’t believe in coincidence. I feel like maybe we met in another lifetime,” I hedge.Why do your eyes mean something to me? “And saying that feels super dumb, because I’m not normally that… I don’t know,wishy-washy. I have a logical brain, I work on facts and science, not prophesies or dreams. My entire career is built around finding facts, finding physical proof to support those, and then presenting those facts. Dreams aren’t proof.”
“So maybe you’re allowed to be Elizabeth the cop while on shift. Elizabeth is the logical one, the one who demands control and no surprises. And when you’re not on shift, you can be the wishy-washy Libby, the girl that believes in prophecy and destiny. I can be Theo the businessman while working, and just Theo the guy who wants to buy you high heels when I’m not.”
“I’m not short!” I snatch my hand from his and turn away from his teasing laugh. “Google it, jerk. I’m literally average height. Why are you so obsessed with how tall I am? Not everyone had a growth spurt and shot up.”
“Evidently,” he chuckles. “Seems you forgot to hit your spurt. Too busy playing with dolls?”
I lift my brows.Are you fucking serious?
“Okay,” he continues to laugh. “So maybe you were riding bikes with the neighborhood boys. Right?” His eyes turn almost desperate, which brings a strange sense of foreboding to my heart. “Did you play with the boys from your neighborhood, Lib? The boys from your school?”
I shake my head. “I went to an all-girls private charter school. I stopped coming home for the weekends once I was in fourth grade or so.”
His eyes warm. “You stopped coming home?”
I nod. “I didn’t want to come home, and my family didn’t much want me anyway. I was an only child, but I had lots of… well,” I pause and think of those bitchy girls who always pounded on me. “I guess we could call them cousins, but I hated every single one of them, so I stayed at school and studied.”
His eyes flicker across my face. “And now?”
“Now what?”
“Do you go home to see your cousins? For the holidays and such.”
I shake my head. “My family is here now. My colleagues and friends, they’re my family.”
Theo takes a step closer, and doesn’t stop until his hip rests against my side and his chest touches my arm. He slides a fingertip along my forearm, drawing my eyes down, and doesn’t stop until his fingertip rests on my collarbone and somehow, the tip of his nose almost touches mine. “I’d like to get dinner with you sometime. No pretense, no cops, no work. Just dinner.”
I shake my head and try to pull away. “I don’t date.”
