Page 4 of Followed By the CEO

Failing to control the scoff in my reaction, I say, “No, I do not.”

Her face changes from confused to slightly offended.

I regret that.

“I mean, it would be a crazy coincidence if I did live here, wouldn’t it?” I say in a feeble attempt to recover from being revealed as an outright snob.

Mills’s pretty eyebrows draw together. “Yeah. That would be a crazy coincidence. So, what are you doing here? I thought you hadn’t slept in 24 hours and were desperate to get home.”

“I’ve evolved since then.”

She laughs. “Seriously, though.”

Finally, I go with honesty.

“The truth is, I followed you.”

chapter

three

Mills

Run.

Run upstairs and call your brother.

This guy is definitely going to murder you.

That’s what my brain is telling me.

But another part of me—and I don’t think it’s my heart—is fascinated by that jawline that’s so chiseled it could be the murder weapon. Or I could die of thirst just from staring at his obnoxiously huge, veiny hand that rests on the driver-side window ledge as he leans out to talk to me.

Besides, my brother Owen is in Kentucky dealing with his own set of problems. He does not have the wherewithal or the finances to drop everything to chase down his sister’s stalker. My neighbor Peter? He would freeze like a deer in headlights in front of a guy like… what’s his name?

“I’m sorry,” I say, “I must have misheard you say you followed me home. That’s a joke, right?”

He tilts his head to the side, giving the same boy-next-door energy as the last time we met. “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Why would I not get home safely? And why would he care?

I let my smart mouth answer before my brain catches up. “Shouldn’t you be going to the bank to get a new debit card or something?”

He gives a boyish shrug. “I could, but the bank teller’s not half as nice as you are.”

This should not put me at ease as much as it does.

At the same time that all the red flags are flying, I take a step closer.

“Do you always follow strange women home from the airport?”

“Only the ones who have cars that need fixing.”

Oh. That. I did mention something about getting my car fixed.

“It’s just the A/C that doesn’t work,” I clarify. “Not a life-threatening situation.”

The man tugs on the front of his shirt. “In this heat? You sure about that?” he says.

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