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This has to stop.Ignoring Brett was proving harder than Allie imagined, and after another hour of losing the battle to refrain from glancing his way, she gave up and decided to call it a night. She wasn’t about to become one of those women who couldn’t take no for an answer, who made pests of themselves trying to get a man’s attention. Neither one of them could have been any clearer – her with her interest in him, him conveying his disinterest. His polite tolerance in dealing with her overtures was one of his positive personality traits that went into the plus column of why she found herself so drawn to the man.
There weren’t near enough negatives in the con column to counteract the positive, damn it.
“What’s wrong?” Penny asked when Mike excused himself to say hello to someone he knew.
“Am I that obvious?” Allie was usually pretty good at masking conflicting feelings, at least until she worked them out.
Laura shook her head. “Only to us, who can read you well after fifteen years.”
Friends since high school, the four of them remained close and always present for each other. They were there to comfort Laura when she’d learned of her husband’s infidelity and Celia when she’d lost her mother to cancer. Allie’s obsession with Brett didn’t compare to such life altering traumas, and, besides, how could she explain to them what she didn’t understand herself?
“I’m just tired,” she replied, digging tip money out of her purse, “and ready to call it a night.”
Penny and Laura exchanged a look then Penny shrugged. “Let us know if you need anything, and be careful going home. What do you want us to tell what’s his name?”
“Mike, and nothing, just say I left. He doesn’t need anything more than that.” Okay, that sounded cold, and she usually wasn’t so callous when discouraging a man’s attention, but Mike wasn’t who she wanted. Brett made it clear she couldn’t have him, even for nothing more than an evening of fun exploring what that private space upstairs had to offer. Standing, she slung her purse over her shoulder, finished her beer then left the bottle near her tip. “Talk to you later.”
Allie was proud of herself when she strolled through the crowd and out the door without seeking one last glimpse of Brett. She’d recognized his ex from the picture in the paper announcing their split last year, and, even from across the crowded room, she could detect his unhappiness with whatever grief she was giving him. She could only imagine the toll such a long, embittered battle to end a relationship would take on a person and admired his restraint in dealing with the woman. Given the family’s financial resources and his legal education, she assumed he could fight dirty and win whatever battle she was waging against the divorce. Another characteristic in the pro column, not that it mattered.
Sliding behind the wheel of her car, Allie concluded the best way to put her obsession to rest was to stay away from Casey’s altogether. She didn’t want to, she thought, pulling out of the parking lot, as she enjoyed the club more than the ones she’d frequented in Casper. But she would do what was necessary to move on without looking back.
She was on the main road when the vehicle roared up behind her in the dark, no headlights to warn her, hitting Allie’s bumper hard enough to push her forward with body-jarring force. Terror squeezed her throat in a vise, her palms turning clammy as she struggled to grip the steering wheel. Whoever it was remained glued to her bumper, maintaining a steady shove she couldn’t control or stop. Squeezing the wheel, she accelerated, hoping to dislodge the tyrannical driver and get away. Instead, whoever was intent on scaring her gave her a short reprieve before flashing the brights, blinding her for a split second when they blazed straight in her rear window. A cry ripped from her throat as the larger vehicle clipped her left corner hard enough to send her spinning out of control and careening into the field. The rough bounce over uneven terrain rattled her teeth and what was left of her nerves until she came to an abrupt, body-thrusting stop that dug the seat belt into her chest and waist, cutting off her breath.
Whipping her head around, Allie struggled to settle her gasping breaths, watching her tormentor speed off, unable to make out what type of vehicle it was in the pitch dark. Shaken beyond belief, she took a few moments to take even gulps of air, gather her wits about her, and unclench her death grip on the wheel. Nausea churned in her stomach and threatened to come up, her vision swimming with light-headedness as tears tracked down her cheeks.
Who is doing this to her, and why?
Unable to come up with an answer and fearing the lunatic would return, Allie fumbled around for her purse and phone, her shaking fingers making dialing 911 difficult.
Chapter Six
An itch settled betweenBrett’s shoulder blades after Allie left Casey’s, a weird sensation hinting something wasn’t right or was about to happen. He rotated his shoulders, trying to rid himself of the annoyance, and, when that didn’t work, decided it was due to not making sure she left their club without getting harassed again by the guy Eric had escorted out.
He stood, intending to check the parking lot just as Reed pulled out his phone and muttered, “Uh, oh,” at a text.
“What?” Brett wondered what brought on his brother’s frown and hoped his partner, John, wasn’t asking Reed to come hold his hand again. John needed to own up to his mistakes and move on without dragging his wife and Reed down with him.
