Page 8 of Sweet Psycho


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Unfortunately, they’re no longer the only ones that want to know.

6

OWEN

Ifind everything I need at the hardware and head back outside. My mind keeps wandering back to the blonde at the coffee shop, the one in the glasses with the bun.

The coffee place is only a couple of blocks away, so I get into my truck and take a few turns, winding up right back out front where I was before.

I catch sight of the blue-haired woman walking away, her hands in her pockets, but I keep my gaze on the coffee shop windows. Inside, I see the blonde rising from her seat and tossing her cup into the trash.

It’s creepy really, the way I’m watching her. I’m not a stalker—at least, I don’t think I am. Even so, I take in each of her movements–the way she keeps her chin down to avoid making eye contact, the way she doesn’t grab the door handle. Instead, she uses the hem of her shirt to make contact with it.

As she steps into the sun, the blond fly-aways around her face shine, giving her an ethereal sort of look, though it’s tempered with ‘sexy librarian’ because of her glasses. She’s a vision, one I can’t pull my eyes away from.

She hurries to a small car. It’s a reasonable vehicle, a Camry with no bells and whistles, and it still shines like new, making me wonder if she drives much at all.

Sitting behind the wheel, she stays there for a while. Then I see her throw her hands up. It makes me quirk half a smile. When she smacks her steering wheel, the half turns into a whole.

She flings the door open and steps out, then marches to the front of the car, where she stares down at the hood. After a few more seconds, she goes back to the driver’s side and bends over, giving me a perfect view of her plump ass. Holy shit.

I know I shouldn’t be watching her like this, but I don’t stop. In fact, I get out of the truck and lean against it as she stands back up and heads to the front again.

A car passes, and I cross the street right after it as she drops to her haunches and peers at the hood mechanism.

“You need help?” I walk up.

She jerks to her feet and spins, her eyes narrowing on me. “Excuse me?”

“I was just passing by and couldn’t help but notice you’re having car trouble.” I try to make it sound as non-threatening as possible. After all, creeps are everywhere. I don’t want her to think I’m one.

She stares.

When she doesn’t speak, I clear my throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just trying to help. That’s all.” I move just a step closer and hold out my hand. “I’m Owen, by the way.”

She looks at my hand like it has several extra fingers, possibly even tentacles.

I lower it slowly. “Maybe you should just let me take a look?” I jut my chin toward her car.

Stepping back onto the sidewalk, she eyes me as I walk up to it and feel beneath the hood, lifting it as I peer down at the engine.

“Are you a mechanic?” she asks.

“No. But I know my way around cars.” I point to her wiper fluid. “You need more windshield fluid. It’s not safe to drive without more than this.”

Her eyes narrow. “I thought you said youweren’ta mechanic.”

“I’m not. Just making an observation.”

“Does the lack of wiper fluid make the car incapable of starting?” she asks curtly.

“No.”

“Mm-hmm.” She crosses her arms in front of her.

I glance around some more, looking for her problem. “Ah.”

“Ah?” She leans over, trying to see what I’m pointing at.

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