Page 14 of Chasing Lynda

He sounds determined; his jaw set in a hard line.

“Kick his ass? But you don’t know what he did to me.”

His lips quirk up in a provocative smirk. “I don’t need to. Your ex must be a grade A asshole if you bolted and had a full blown panic attack at only the thought that he might’ve been in that cafe. People generally don’t react that way unless they’ve been through some real bullshit.”

The words leave my mouth before I can think better of it. “It sounds like you’re familiar with bad breakups?”

Thankfully he doesn’t look offended by my nosiness. My dad always said to me that I ask too many questions.

“Yeah, you could say that.” He then lifts a paper bag with the cafe logo on it. “Come on, let’s go somewhere to eat these biscuits before they get cold.”

My stomach contracts, reminding me that we need food. But I know that the fluttering feeling at the pit of it isn’t just hunger. I follow Carter toward the beach, weaving through the rows of cabanas until he stops by the last row, by a low perimeter wall that fences off the property from the public beach.

He hops up, sitting on the edge of the wall and helping me up with a steady hand.

He passes me a warm, flakey biscuit with egg, melted, gooey cheese and crispy bacon. He also takes a bottle of orange juice from the other bag he’s carrying.

I sink my teeth into the warm sandwich, doing my best not to moan at how good it tastes.

We eat quietly for a few minutes and I force myself not to wolf down my food. For some reason, I care about what Carter thinks about me, especially after he caught me eating food off the floor.

“She was with me because of the money,” he says out of the blue.

I realize that he’s continuing the conversation from earlier, talking about his breakup.

“We dated for almost three years; she was one of my team’s cheerleaders. Her name is Monica. When she realized that I didn’t want to play ball professionally and I was more interested in getting into a sports physical therapy grad program, she bailed. But rather than put her big girl panties on and be honest with me, she tried to sneak into my best friend’s bed. He was drafted by the Cowboys, so ...”

This man has the power of lowering my defenses and getting me to speak my mind. “It’s definitely her loss, then,” I say, as my eyes skim over his wide shoulders and the ripped muscles of his chest and abs that his tight t-shirt can’t totally hide.

His perfect body and his athletic build remind me of Kelley’s, even though with his blond hair and his blue eyes, Carter looks more like Bode.

He must notice the way I’m checking him out, because he smiles in that disarming way of his. I feel redness blooming on my cheeks and like always, when put on the spot, I begin babbling nervously. “What I mean is that you’re so kind. It’s important to be with someone kind and compassionate, I should know. I didn’t mean that it’s her loss because you’re hot—”

His smile widens. “You didn’t?”

The glint in his eyes tells me that he’s enjoying how flustered I’m getting. “Jerk!” I snort, slapping his strong chest with the back of my hand.

He’s now laughing out loud, with his head thrown back and it’s contagious. I don’t think I’ve laughed at all in the last year.

When we finally calm down, he grabs my hand in his. “You’re hot too, Lynda,” he says, suddenly serious. “I don’t ask every girl I see attempting to eat food off the floor on a date. That isn’t my kink at all, just in case you were wondering.”

Fuck.

This guy has the power to make my heart pick up its pace. No one had ever made me feel this way before or since Kelley.

“Is this a date?” I ask with butterflies in my stomach because the thing with Kelley was completely one-sided. He saw our hanging out in a totally platonic way.

I don’t even think about the fact that I can’t date anyone. That not only am I still married on paper, but that I’m running from my psycho-husband and I don’t even know how long I can stay in Bridgeport. For one second, I just want to feel normal. I want to hear an attractive guy say that he’s interested in me.

Carter smiles. “Of course it’s a date! There’s really every element you should have on the perfect date, if you think about it.”

I wouldn’t know. The only actual dates I’ve ever been to, were the chaperoned ones during my forced engagement with Aaron, but of course I don’t say that out loud. “Really?” I ask him, hoping to sound flirty.

He nods, ticking items off his fingers. “For the perfect date, you need two people who are attracted to each other. And I think we both admitted that much, right?” He doesn’t wait for me to confirm it, he lists the other items on his list. “You need a romantic location and we have the beach and the ocean. Most dates feature some kind of food and we’ve just had breakfast. And we’re getting to know each other. Right?”

I nod without even thinking about it. For just a second, I want to feel like any normal woman my age. I want to do all the things I should be doing; going out with a hot guy, getting to know him, flirt with him and maybe who knows ... fall in love.

I know very well that I can’t do any of those things. Because I’m not a normal woman. Normal women didn’t spend years hiding clothes in their school locker or at friends’ houses, to evade her family’s strict rules. Normal women don’t get forced into an arranged marriage by a father who has made a fortune by helping to build a crazy, women-hating religious cult. Normal women aren’t murderers on the run.

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