Page 4 of The Arrangement

“The last thing I need right now is to complicate my life any more than it already is."

Ty chuckles, turning his attention back to Lucy. "Girl, who said anything about complicating? I'm talking about a little harmless fun. You know, the kind where you don’t call him back the next day. And the guy’s clearly loaded.”

“What gives you that idea?”

“The suit – that’s bespoke all the way. And I’d recognize a Patek-Phillipe from across the city.”

Men with money have never attracted my attention, and the man across the street is no exception. Something else draws me to him, though, something I can’t quite put my finger on.

“What’s he even doing there, anyway?” I ask.

Ty shrugs. “Probably just enjoying the view. It's not illegal to sit on a bench, you know.”

The man is a total enigma.

Handsome, yes, but with a strange, serious air about him I can sense even from a distance.

My heart tugs with curiosity, yet my mind is firm—there's no room for distractions, especially not of the male variety.

Ty glances at his watch, a not-so subtle hint that he’s ready to be done for the day. "Looks like it's about closing time," he says. "Got my evening stuff done. Need me to stay and help wrap things up? I can totally understand if you’re not in the mood to do the books for tonight."

I shake my head, exhaustion pulling at me. All I want to do is go to bed and sleep. "No, you go ahead. You've done more than enough today. Seriously – over and above the call of duty.”

He pauses, his smile flickering with a hint of concern. "Sure? How about you come out with me and the gang for drinks? Might do you some good to unwind a bit."

The offer tempts me for a fleeting moment—the promise of laughter and distraction. But fatigue, both physical and emotional, claims victory. "I'm just too tired. I’d be a total Debbie Downer. But thanks. As soon as these two get picked up, I’m going home."

Understanding dances in his eyes, and he steps forward to wrap me in a hug, a brief but comforting embrace. "Alright, take care of yourself, Tor. We'll catch up later. And please, please call me if you need anything. I know Ned was… well, Ned. But this is still a loss. Don’t underestimate it, okay?”

“Okay. And thanks again.” I smile at Ty warmly, letting him know his words and efforts are appreciated.

As he steps out the front door, I can't help but glance toward the mysterious man still seated outside. The moment Ty disappears, the stranger's gaze lifts, meeting mine through the glass. A jolt of something— apprehension mingled with an inexplicable attraction—tightens in my stomach. His eyes, dark and intense, seem to pierce through the distance, leaving me feeling exposed and oddly fascinated.

With a shake of my head, I turn away, leading the dogs to the door as their owners show up to pick them up. I then make sure the door is locked before flipping off the front lights. The comforting routine of closing up offers a semblance of normalcy, a distraction from the unsettling exchange and the draining day.

Retreating to my office, I aim to finish the day with one last task—an email to our clients, thanking them for their understanding during the brief chaos of Ned’s passing. He’d handled the behind-the-scenes business of the shop, so there was no need to break the news in a heavy sort of way. I get to work, the familiar click of keys under my fingers soothing, a mundane task that grounds me.

Mid-sentence, the sound of the back door opening breaks the silence. Assuming it's Ty, perhaps having forgotten something, I call out without looking up. "Forget your keys again?"

But the silence that follows isn't right. Ty would've responded with a joke or a quip, filling the room with his presence. A prickling sense of unease crawls up my spine, the earlier tension resurfacing as I realize the heavy silence might not be Ty's to break.

Stepping out of my office, the quiet of the shop presses in on me, unsettling in its emptiness. No sign of Ty or anyone else. Confused, I pivot back toward my office, the faint echo of my own footsteps a stark reminder of how alone I am.

Just as I sit down, I feel a presence behind me. I gasp when I find the man from the park bench and leap out of my chair.

He stands like a statue, filling the doorway with his imposing form. Up close, he’s even more alluring.

And intimidating.

He's tall, his frame blocking out the dim light from the hall, broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. His dark hair is cut short, practical yet somehow managing to add to his rugged allure.

A scar marks the right side of his neck, evidence of a life I can barely imagine, yet it does not detract from his looks; if anything, it lends him a sort of raw, undeniable edge.

Dressed in a tailored suit that seems at odds with his bouncer-like build, he exudes an air of calm, professional composure almost more potent than if he'd carried a gun.

My heart races, fear mingling with a reluctant fascination as I instinctively reach for the scissors on my desk, gripping them tightly enough to feel the metal bite into my palm. He notices the movement but only smirks, as if my attempt to defend myself is more amusing than anything else.

"My condolences for your loss," he says, his voice smooth, betraying none of the tension zinging through the air between us. His tone is rich, deep, so resonant I can feel it in my bones.

---