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He came around, pausing to study her. He hadn’t pulled his hair back, and the black locks hung around his shoulders. As he moved over to sit on the other stool, he tilted his head at her. “Did I overreact?”
She shrugged. “Had a bad morning, two days in a row.” She couldn’t call the prior day bad altogether, not with the hours spent in Trenton’s arms. Her thoughts crashed together as she stared at Malcolm. “Wait, did Trenton call you?”
Malcolm frowned. “Trent? No. Though he damn well should have.”
“So how did you hear?”
“I’ve got a couple of buddies at the precinct,” Malcolm said, scowling at her. “Why didn’t you tell me about your run-in with your fiancé?”
“It was silly, he—” Then his words registered. “Wait, precinct? He went to the cops?”
“That asshole tried to take a restraining order out against you, Celia. Was telling everyone that would listen that you were some crazy stalker with a history.”
A chill ran through her. “I have no history.” Some hospital records, but even they were from before she was of legal age.
“Which is why my buddies sent him packing. That and he’d gone to the wrong place. Since we have the same last name, they warned me in case he got it right on his own.” He reached out, brushing her hair behind her ear. “What happened?”
“I’ve got terrible taste in men,” she said with a shrug.
“Don’t I know it.” Malcolm shook his head. “I haven’t liked anyone you’ve dated.”
“I haven’t really liked them either,” she admitted. “What in the world is wrong with me?”
He pulled her in for a hug, his chin resting on top of her head. “Nothing. Let’s make a deal, though.”
“What?” she asked, finding comfort in the familiar way he held her.
“I get to choose the next guy you date.”
She choked on a hiccupping laugh as she pulled back. She lifted her smoothie, downing the last of the contents.
Malcolm wrinkled his nose at her. “I can’t believe you drink Trent’s concoctions, though I guess I’m glad you’re actually putting something in your stomach.”
“I like them.” It was really more the thought of Trenton making the smoothies for her that helped, since the taste was an acquired one.
“Okay, no more beating around the bush. Tell me what happened with this guy yesterday.”
Celia recapped her supermarket visit. “I should have never opened up to him.”
“Well, you thought you were going to marry him.” A crease formed on Malcolm’s forehead. “Which story did you share with him?”
She reached for the glass again, but it was already empty. “The stairs.”
He frowned, but nodded. “You know what I’m going to nag you into today, right?”
Celia used her elbow to nudge the piece of paper he’d given her the night before toward him. “I was thinking the group one.”
“Got it. I’ll drive you there.”
It wasn’t something worth arguing over, and she didn’t really want to. After grabbing her phone and putting on her shoes, they headed down together.
Malcolm drove a truck, one she had to climb up into, though not too far. They drove in silence, but not a strained one. Malcolm knew she didn’t like to talk much, not when her thoughts were so sluggish.
He pulled into the parking lot of the center, one that looked like so many of the others she’d been to. “I’ll wait here and drive you to the bar after.”
“You don’t have to do that, Malcolm,” she protested. “I’m fine to—”
“Don’t start. I’m waiting.” He turned toward her, frowning again. “I was assuming you wanted to work your shift, but let me know if you don’t.”
