Page 2 of Followed By the CEO

I jump out of my skin when a badge-wearing woman in a bright yellow airport employee vest taps on my window.

“Excuse me.”

Rolling down my window, I wonder if I’ve done something wrong. “Yes?”

She asks, “Would it be okay if this man over here uses your card? His isn’t working. He has cash, and I’ll get you a parking voucher for your next visit.”

My tired brain has to do some quick math. Am I being scammed? No, she’s wearing a badge. But it might be a scam. If it is a scam, no one is going to get very far with my shitty credit limit.

Looking past the parking attendant, it’s all I can do to keep my jaw from dropping like a cartoon character.

At the wheel of the new Range Rover in the next lane is someone who is clearly the result of Faramir having a baby with Cillian Murphy. There’s no other excuse for those cheekbones. Nor can there be any other explanation for a luscious head of hair on a man in his early to mid-40s. Is he a movie star? If not, he could be.

He waves at me, offering a disarming smile. “So sorry to bother you; I know this is weird,” he says, dripping with boy-next-door charm.

My people-pleasing response is to exclaim with zero chill: “Not weird at all!” while thinking this is, in fact, a little weird.

I hand over my card to the parking attendant, who feeds it into the other machine. The driver opens his wallet, presumably to put his defunct bank card away. But then, something else happens that will etch this man into my memory forever: he hands a wad of cash to the attendant, who, in turn, walks it over to me along with my card.

“For your troubles,” he calls out to me.

I look at the stack of crisp bills in my hand, and there must be over three hundred dollars here. I gasp. Am I now indebted to an incredibly hot drug dealer?

“This is too much!” I say, waving the bills at the attendant. She smiles, and ignoring my attempt to return the cash, she pushes a button that triggers the gates to open in both lanes.

The man’s smolder can’t be denied. “Listen. My card doesn’t work, I haven’t slept in 24 hours, and I just want to get home. Thank you so much for your kindness.”

I try to hand one of the large bills to the attendant, but she shakes her head as if to say accepting cash tips violates some sort of parking attendant rule, though I’m sure it does not.

Another driver behind me honks. Startled, I shove the cash into my purse like a wild animal instead of carefully securing it in my wallet.

Before I drive away, I beam at the man in the Range Rover. “I’m gonna go get my car fixed! Thank you!”

The beautiful man’s full lips turn up in a half smile that could melt Trunchbull. I consider ignoring the cars behind me so I can stare a little longer.

Sigh.

Smiling and waving back, I roll up my window and put the car in gear.

The driver with the crappy bank card watches me leave, follows me out of the lot, then disappears from my life forever.

And that’s that. That’s the end of our relationship.

Monster is waiting, after all, and I’ve been looking forward to happy dog snorts and excited wiggles.

Dates and hook-ups come and go in this town, but the constants in my life are good friends and my dog. I’m content with that, for now.

chapter

two

Hayden

Mills Mosley.

That was the name on the card.

I’ll never forget that name, her kindness, or her gorgeous smile.

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