Page 8 of Trapped With My Stalker

“So why didn’t you call?” I questioned, crossing my arms and leaning on the wall.

“I did, you fucking jackass,” she hollers, jumping to her feet with a sexy fire that turns me on. “Seriously, you men. Is it a prerequisite that you’re stupid if you’re attractive? Do you cheat as well?”

I have so many damn questions, but the only thing that pops into my head is that bastard who was fucking her. “Are you telling me that prick cheated on you?”

“Yes, with the other girl that worked here, Carrie.”

“Ah, yes. I met her.”

“Oh, did you now,” I know that sound. I got my stalker jealous. Why do I want her that way? I’m not supposed to be attracted to this woman in any way, shape, or form, and yet I’m as hard as steel.

“I’m not attracted to her if that’s what you’re thinking, but I got that ick vibe from her.” Did I just say ick? I’ve been hanging around the younger crowd too long.

She waves her delicate hand. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I just fired them.”

“Fired them? I thought he owned the resort.”

“No, I do.” My brows cinch together. That wouldn’t make any sense unless she took multiple vacations because those incidents when the stalker was in L.A. were days and weeks apart, meaning the person was a California resident. She had to be telling me the truth.

I’m on my feet, pacing fast, thoughts racing through my mind as I puzzle through everything I know. “Something’s not adding up.”

“What the heck are you talking about?” I look up at my confused woman.

The truth of it all dawns on me, and I drop to my chair, running my hands through my hair and feeling the brunt of my frustration hit me hard as hell. “You can’t be my stalker.”

“Duh. Lord,” she sighs, rolling her beautiful eyes.

“I apologize,” I say. Pain and relief are mixed, in my words. Have I ruined my chances with her?

I don’t know if it was the sound in my voice or what, but there is pity in hers as she asks, “What made you think I was?” Before I knew it, she was standing next to me with a bottle of water.

“I swore I saw you in town everywhere.” My words are barely above a whisper.

She smiles and shakes her head, letting a piece of her red curls fall in front of her face, only to swipe it away before I get the pleasure. “There are less than two thousand residents. You probably saw the entire town and didn’t realize it. I’m one of the few people with red hair.”

“No, it was you, at least most of the time.” I’d confess that I knew it was her the entire time, but then she’d think I was insane and truly obsessed.

“I live here, and I do believe at least on two occasions, I was somewhere first.”

“More than twice,” I admit. Hell, even I felt l was the stalker and loved it until I received those images. Damn, I was willing to let the stalking slide.

“Well then, I wasn’t stalking you. You would be stalking me.”

“You rode past my Nana’s house the first time I saw you,” I confessed, and then my obsession kicked off, but she didn’t need to know that bit of information. “Just checking to see if you were telling the world where Stellan Knox was,” I joke.

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I was coming from the library that day. Tell me you never played a detective in any of these movies because you jump the gun way too fast on this.”

I frowned. “There was something else that made me believe it was you.” I walked over to the table, picked up my phone, and opened the pictures that I had saved. I’m glad they’re saved since my internet and phone service no longer work. “These were sent to me by my assistant. The images were from the shops where my stalker bought the gifts. Georgia, don’t deny it. You were seen there multiple times.” I handed over the phone.

She laughs.

“Wow. First, I’m going to punt that bitch in her cooch. Second, do you see the necklace?” She points to the one on the image of the first time I received the nude painting of my face over the sculpture of David.

“Yes?”

“I got that gift from Chet that night before he picked me up for dinner. Whoever doctored those images had just taken that picture sometime in the two hours that I wore that necklace.”

“Two hours?”

---