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He trailed after her, making a scene almost as embarrassing as the coffee incident. “Don’t leave, please! Just let me try—”
She stopped and pivoted to face him. He almost crashed into her again. “Listen, I don’t know what you do all day, butIhave to get to work. I have a busy, important day, and I’m already going to be late since I have to go back home and get a new shirt since you ruined this one!” Her voice rose and turned a few more heads. She hadn’t realized how annoyed she had grown, and she frankly didn’t care that she was taking it out on him.
To her shock, Jack stood there grinning rather than looking affronted that she had snapped at him.
“Why are you smiling?”
He folded his arms, stretching his stained tee shirt over muscles Gemma had not previously noticed. “You’re not going to be late for work.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Check your phone.”
She hated to humor him, but he had been right about her brother calling.
She looked, and her carefully monitored inbox showed a new message from one of her VIP contacts: her boss, Marsha.
Hey gang,
Bradly has a stomach bug, so I’m out this morning. Run one of the canned shows from last month. I’ll try to be there for Nigel Black this afternoon, but no promises. Might have to cancel the interview.
—M
Gemma read the brief email and felt the ache in her head throb. Canceling Nigel Black, rock legend and personal idol, would be a disaster. She’d spent months wrangling him. He was in L.A. for one night for part of his comeback tour—an event that had sold out in minutes, much to her despair. It was a miracle she even got him on their calendar. But the personal blow to her hard work aside, the takeaway was that Jack had been right: she wasn’t going to be late for work because work had effectively been canceled for the morning. Carmen would be in the studio already, always early, and she’d plug something canned into the program without anyone aware the show had been taped weeks before. And the worst realization of all, the whole unfolding scenario felt somehow familiar.
She looked up at Jack.
“Boss’s kid still sick?” he said with an annoyingly proud grin.
She scowled at him and turned for the door, ready to get away.
“You know I’m right, Gemma! This is really happening!” he called behind her.
She stepped out onto the sidewalk and let the sun kiss her face. The warmth and the semifresh air washed away her frustration for a quick second. Traffic rolled up and down the street, but she could still find a gap to dash through to her car. She took two steps in that direction before she got an overwhelming, inexplicable urge to stop walking.
She froze right before a teenager on a skateboard came scraping down the sidewalk, barreling out of nowhere, and sped past her fast enough to throw her hair sideways and miss her by inches.
“Sorry, lady!” he called over his shoulder.
Gemma’s heart leapt up into her throat and she gasped. She hardly had time to recover before Jack was at her side, gripping her arm in excitement.
“You moved!” he shouted at her. His eyes sparkled in the sun. “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?”
She stumbled for balance. She couldn’t say if she had known consciously, but like with what Mr. Weaver said about the weather and the little girls playing in the flooded street—and, if she was being honest, the feeling she got when she first saw Jack—it felt wildly familiar.
She turned on Jack with another glare. “Wait. Didyouknow that was going to happen, and you didn’t warn me?”
He gave her a guilty shrug. “I don’t know the rules about what we can mess with.”
“So, you were going to let me get hit by a speeding skateboarder?”she shouted at him, and stomped away.
“You wouldn’t have gotten hurt! He just kind of elbows you as he goes by!”
She was halfway across the street and didn’t want to hear any more. Apparently, the busted treadmill and empty coffee bin were signs of what was to come before she had even left the house. She would have stayed home had she known she would have scalding lattes poured all over her and nearly been run over by a skater. Not to mention met a strange, handsome man whose considerable charm was quickly evaporating.
A thought struck her as she reached her car. She opened the driver’s door and turned back to face the other side of the street. Thankfully, Jack hadn’t followed her. He stayed on the opposite sidewalk as if the traffic between them were a moat he could not cross.
“If you don’t know what you are allowed to mess with, why are you messing with me?” she shouted over the passing cars. A stoplight down the street had turned green, releasing a wave of noise.
