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“And I asked you the reason. Why the fuck are you trying to help me?” she yelled, drawing a few offended gazes our way. “Do I look helpless to you? I’m not some damsel in distress!” It was difficult to make out the rest of her statement, but that much I got. By the time she was done ranting, I had successfully worked up a temper.
“I get it now. You’re not a damsel in distress, and I, sure as hell, am not a knight. I’ll leave you to it then.”
I made to turn around and leave, but suddenly her hand shot out and caught mine. She looked up at me with the most sparkling ocean blue eyes, “Stay.” One word. Just one word, and I felt my leg obeying the order with no single protest. One word and I was plunking down next to her in the dimly lit booth.
“I’m sorry for being such—”
“An ass?” I supplied.
She giggled a soft childish sound that strangely made my heart pound faster.
“Yeah. That. I have had the worst day.”
“We all have bad days.”
“No. You don’t get it. I can’t even go home.”
“Why?”
“I won’t be able to face Jason.”
Oh, a boyfriend. I figured she was too hot to be single, and boy, was I right?
She reached for the glass of water, took a gulp, and smacked her lips rather loudly. I found myself smiling at her cute little display. She was definitely intriguing.
“Tell me more.”
“My client died. She was more like a mother to me, and she just died! Why do people do that?” she turned to me with a serious look.
“Do what? Die?”
“Yes.”
“Uhm. ‘Cause they’re old and weak or ‘cause a sickness made them too weak to fight. Or an accident,” I blurted and felt stupid afterward as she gave me an amused look. Darn! It was a rhetorical question.
“Well, she died, and now I’m out of a job, and my fiancé broke off our engagement. Or I did. I mean, he gave me two difficult choices, and I had to take the other one, so who did?”
I figured it was another rhetorical question, so I just watched quietly as she ranted on about her failed engagement and loss of her job. That was not the way I had envisioned my evening going, but strangely, it was even better. Her company was soothing, and I hadn’t had anything like that in a long while.
“You,” she called out, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Do you even remember me?”
“Uh. Yes. Mrs. Crawford’s caregiver.”
“Yikes!” Maybe I just imagined it, but I could swear she heaved a sigh of relief.
“I don’t even know anything about you. I have pretty much told you everything about me.”
“Well, not everything. I didn’t get your name,” I said when her brows furrowed in apparent confusion.
“It’s Zoey. Zoey Carter.”
“Adrian Black. Nice to meet you,” I said and shook her outstretched hand. “Do you feel better?”
“Yes, thanks. I don’t normally indulge in the pleasures of booze. You must think I’m a drunkard or a nutjob now,” she joked, flashing a perfect set of pearly white teeth. She exhaled and smoothed her hair to the back, tucking in a few stray strands behind her ears. “Tell me then, why are you here instead of being at home? Judging by your outfit, you’ve been at work all day, and you look tired.”
“Well… Let’s just say, just like you, I am not psyched to show my face in that house.” She gave me a quizzical look. “Thing is, I have two five-year-old daughters, and I feel like I have been doing a whack job of taking care of them. Yunno. Like I am not doing enough.” I sighed long and hard.
She reached out and placed her hand on mine, and strangely, it was comforting. “I’m sure you love them very much. I would know, being a mother myself.”
