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“Sh,” I teased, amused by how wild his eyes were. “I won’t tell anyone. In fact, I much prefer the outside world not know I even know you. That night will be our little secret.”
“Why would you keep our friendship hidden?” He feigned hurt, clutching his heart after combing his fingers through his dark waves.
“First, because I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. Nice try, Meredith, but I’ve seen you check me out.”
“Probably trying to find the best spot to place my knife,” I rebuked, rolling my eyes at him. “You know I only minored in marketing,” I confessed. “I can’t fix—” Blinding flashes of light burst against the window next to us, distracting me from finishing.
Rowan groaned, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. Something about his sarcastic laughter left me uneasy.
“Welcome to the big league,” he mocked, lifting his eyebrows at me when he rolled his head back down to face me. Three people came into the coffee shop, paying no mind to customers or me as they snooped around for a picture of Rowan. Leaning forward, he patted my fist as I clenched it around my coffee mug. “Want to get out of here?”
I was nodding my reply while stuffing my laptop into my bag. Turning between the flashing lights and my mug, Rowan told me he’d buy me another coffee, so I left it steaming on the table as he rushed me to the door.
“They’re blocking my car,” I whined. Rowan linked his arm with mine, fitting his cap on my head before pulling up the hood of my sweatshirt, winking at me.
“Now you can be my little secret,” he taunted, tapping my nose. “We’ll get your car later. Come on.”
Rowan grabbed my hand, pulling me across the parking lot to his Audi. I struggled to keep up with his long strides, almost tumbling once before he opened the passenger door for me.
“They’re still behind you,” I mumbled while climbing in. “Why are you being followed?”
Grumbling something under his breath, Rowan ran around the front of his car and climbed in, peeling out of the parking lot so quickly I slammed back into my seat.
“Did you kill someone? Christ, Ellis,” I snapped, rubbing my neck. He looked over at me twice, smiling the second time.
“Keep the cap,” he told me. “It looks good on you.” Fixing the rearview, Rowan drove through downtown before merging onto the highway. “Part of my contract requires I do a certain number of things for the media, and I’m one of four guys on my team who isn’t in a relationship.”
“Ouch,” I laughed. “So, you’re being stalked by the media for being single? God, that sounds like my life. Replace stalked with haunted. Anyway,” I faced him, smiling, “tell me more.”
“You don’t really want to know about it. Do you?” I couldn’t tell by his tone if Rowan was serious. He pulled off the highway and wound around to Burnside Avenue, taking us higher into the hills.
Being with him in the car differed from our dinner in Vegas. We really were alone. Something about his vulnerability made him human again. “You can tell me,” I offered, lowering my defenses.
He pointed ahead at a coffee shop on the corner. “I’ll run in.”
Not sure what to do while he went into the coffee shop, I studied the meticulous interior. Leather seats, envelope in the center console, and a pack of mints in a cupholder. It was his key chain I found most interesting as it dangled from the ignition with three keys and a small metal baseball charm with chipped white paint.
His movement at the coffee shop door distracted me, feeling strangely guilty about even looking around me in his car. Carrying a cup in each hand, Rowan motioned with his finger for me to roll down his window.
“Black coffee,” he handed it to me. “I remembered that’s what you ordered at breakfast in Vegas.”
Taking the coffee, I also reached across the console to push open his door. “Thank you. I didn’t realize you knew I was there.”
“Is that,” he buckled himself in, “because you were so quiet that morning?”
The coffee burned my throat in the comforting way only a delicious dark brew can do. “This is amazing. Thank you. And sometimes I’m quiet. What’s it to you?”
“I just can’t ever imagine you being quiet. There’s always some spit you’re ready to fire at me, Meredith.” Rowan glanced at me before quickly setting his sight back on Burnside. He wove through the hills until pulling into the parking lot outside the Rose Garden.
Leaning onto the headrest, Rowan took out his key and rolled his head toward me with his left hand on the door handle. “Do you need to get to your car right away?”
“No.” I’d stopped looking at him for a second, taking in the rows of blooms lining the tennis courts. Rowan was at my door, holding it open with both of our coffees in his hands, when I looked away from the roses.
The garden was quiet except for some tourists with their cameras and parents with babies toddling along the brick paths. When we descended the second set of stairs, Rowan motioned for me to follow him to the stone wall that looked over the downtown skyline. He climbed on top, settling in to lean against a column with his legs spread on each side of the wall.
“You know,” I began, taking my coffee from him, “I have things to say that aren’t spit.”
