Page 9 of The One Who Got Away

“Don’t worry, I’ll give Catherine a thorough tour of the facilities,” he assured her when she glanced back at me.

Rosa seemed relieved to be rid of me and gave me an awkward thumbs up before she skittered from the room.

I stood in place, my fists balled at my side, contemplating jumping over the counter and choking him. It made me smile a little, until that damn blush returned as his gaze flickered over me in a way that took off every shred of clothing in an instant.

Besides...you both like it rough. A little dangerous. Any sneak attack would just lead to...

I cleared my throat, raking a hand through my hair, trying to shove any X-rated thoughts from my mind. “You still haven’t answered my question, Lincoln.”

His face went serious and for the briefest moment, I thought we would have an actual conversation. But like something inside him snapped and reminded him that life was a game and he was the #1 player, he hid behind that smirk and slid a porcelain cup in my direction.

“Try it out.”

“I don’t want to try it out.”

“Still stubborn as hell, huh?”

“Still a self-absorbed asshole, huh?” I fired back, crossing my arms defiantly.

The insult hit its mark because his smile disintegrated. He gripped the edge of the bar. “Fair enough.”

It should have brought me some satisfaction to know I could dent the Carraway armor and wipe the smile right off his face, even after all this time, but I just felt hollow. I’d never let him know that. I’d never let him close enough again to see that underneath all the vitriol, I still...cared.

Focus. He still hasn’t answered your question.

I was afraid of getting too close. His draw, his allure, I wasn’t immune to it either. Especially with him in a sky blue v-neck tee that broadcasted the fact that he still took very good care of himself. It would have been easier if he’d wasted his fortune on booze, fast food, and drugs. No such luck.

I didn’t realize I was staring until he let out a chuckle.

“I could do a 360 if you’d like.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I opted to turn my back on him and silently said every curse word known to man as I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress. I would never admit that the view I’d had a few minutes ago was a view I’d missed. He was the only man I knew that made clothing look like ‘sex’ personified. And out of them...

I straightened my spine and forced everything but animosity from my voice. “I’m not going to ask again. Why. Are. You. Here.” I glared at the rock garden. The stones and the gentle trickle of water were supposed to make me feel all zen, but the water gushing at the sink behind me made me want to scream. He was literally doing everything but answering my question, including the dishes!

“I’m co-owner of the organization, Catherine,” he said finally. “That’s why I’m here.”

I didn’t lift my gaze from the garden even though my heart was officially in my throat. Two sentences, and I was still confused. He was the co-owner? Since when? I had done my research. If I had seen his face under the ‘About Us’ section of the website, I never would have submitted my application for the Backpacks for Change program director position.

And let’s say he was telling the truth and he was the co-owner of the organization. That still didn’t explain why he was here. My eyes shifted to my fingertips, still vibrating from struggling to not say anything, not do anything until I was sure I wouldn’t completely lose my mind.

Was this all some elaborate ploy to get me back in his life? If so, why did that concept not make me angrier? Why did it make me want to turn back to him and find out if there was still something for me, some love swimming in his gray eyes?

No.

Don’t look back. Remember?

I held fast, biting down on the inside of my jaw when the hardwood floor creaked and I realized he was coming in my direction. Suddenly, I wished I’d booked it the hell out of there with Rosa.

Realizing that it looked really weird to be standing at the couch entranced by the rocks, I swapped it for my hands instead, admiring the handiwork like it wasn’t a chipped, black-and-scarlet mess.

The footsteps stopped a few feet away from me.

“You don’t have any questions? About why I’m not on the website?”

I didn’t say a word or move a muscle.

“You’re not wondering why your resume was chosen out of the slew of resumes we got for the position?”

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