Page 2 of Whispers of My Skin

What if he doesn’t work here anymore?

What if he’s moved on?

What if he’s with someone else?

Keep calm, Tara. Just keep walking, it’s the only way to you’re going to find the answers to all the ‘what if’s’.

Single, and working at Dale Ranch since 2015.

That’s all I have to go on, the only information I could gather using my social media stalking skills. We haven’t seen each other for more than twelve years. A lot of time has gone by, so he’s bound to have changed, as have I. Will he still be the same guy I remember?

Hell, I hope so. I have to believe he will be, otherwise I’m screwed.

“Can I help you?” The front door is opened by a tall, gray-haired man in his fifties before I’ve even had a chance to knock. He must have seen me driving up.

This is it. The moment has come. There is no escape, no turning back. So where has my voice gone?

“Erm, yes, hopefully you can,” I mumble, clearing my throat before continuing. The poor man must think I’m some kind of dumbass. He’s not far wrong there. Come on, Tara, for the love of God, just spit it out! I pull my shoulders back and state confidently. “I’m looking for Joel. Joel Sadger.”

“Is he expecting you?” he queries, raising the bushy eyebrows that frame his kindly eyes.

“No,” I admit. “Not really. Not at all actually.”

“Ah, a surprise visit...” he winks and smiles again. I don’t know what he finds so amusing. He looks a little familiar, but I can’t place where from. “Lucky bastard must’ve done something right for a beautiful young lady like you to come calling. Guess you’d better step inside.”

As he leads the way, I quickly whip out a small mirror from my bag to check my makeup still looks good.

The man laughs when he notices. “No need to worry, darlin’. Joel’s a great guy, everyone thinks he’s the best manager we’ve had in years.”

His kind words help me to relax just a little.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little... nervous,” I explain, offering a weak smile as he nods sympathetically.

I’m a mess. A bundle of nerves. A total nervous wreck.

We walk down a long corridor, passing several closed doors until we reach the end. The guy stops at the farthest door, knocks a couple of times, then opens the door without waiting for an answer.

“Joel, I’ve got a young lady here looking for you,” he calls into the room.

“You mean Cassandra?”

Just hearing his voice again has a thousand butterflies rampaging in my stomach. So many and so big, they’re more like pterodactyls than butterflies.

The older guy turns to look at me.

“Nope,” he answers as he studies me. “Definitely not Cassandra.” Who the hell is Cassandra?

“Guess you’d better send this mystery woman in,” he says.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to walk in and not turn tail.

The moment I’ve been avoiding these last weeks, months, years, has finally arrived.

I’m going to see him again.

Joel.

As I walk in, his eyes widen in shock. Hardly surprising after twelve years. Those deep amber eyes slowly scan my body, checking me out from head to toe, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. It feels like an eternity although it’s only a few seconds before Joel gets up from his chair, while the other guy shuts the door as he leaves us alone together.

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