Page 39 of The Attraction File

SIXTEEN

Evaleen

“You’re home early.” My mom smiled at me walking in from the hallway.

I leaned my back against the front door, trying to catch my breath. My mom made a face. “Oh no, is Mrs. Charles out there again. If she is, I’m not here. Also, tell her I’m on a cleanse and can’t have food.”

Taking a deep breath, I pushed off the door. Dropping my bag, I shrugged off Big Earl, placing him on the coat rack in the corner.

“You are on a cleanse?” I was dubious about cleanses. It’s just a glorified fast. I did one once in my early twenties—ended up gaining all the weight I lost back plus a few extra pounds after I stopped. Plus, I was angry all the time when I was on the cleanse. It wasn’t a good week.

“No, not really. But she keeps pushing the lemon cookies she bakes on me. Have you tried them?”

I shook my head.

“Don’t. They’re terrible. How can anything with lemon in it taste like pickles?”

Somehow the thought of lemons made me think of Edgar. Which brought my tears back. I let my head fall into my hands as a sob took over.

“Oh, Evaleen, what’s wrong?”

Damn it. I am really bad at this crying thing. Always picking the worst times.

My mother came over to me and wrapped her arms around me. She guided me to the couch, never letting go.

“This, Mom. This is what’s wrong.” I waved a hand around my face.

She cupped her hands on my cheeks, her blue eyes searching every inch of my face. “I don’t understand. I don’t see anything wrong. Did you hurt yourself at work? Is that why you came home early?”

I nodded. “You could say that.”

I tried to figure out how best to explain to my mom that the man I had been fantasizing about for the past five years was about to kiss me when I exploded in tears in front of him.

Thankfully I didn’t have to explain as there was a knock at the door.

“Stay put. I’ll see who it is. If it’s Mrs. Charles again, I’ll tell her we are both on a cleanse.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I wiped the tears from my face.

I heard the door open. “Oh, uh, may I help you?”

“Is Evaleen Bechmann here?”

The sound of Edgar’s voice had me snatching a napkin from the coffee table and frantically wiping down my face. A quick scan of the area made me realize there were no mirrors around. I knew my face was red and puffy.

Maybe my mom would tell him I wasn’t here and refuse to let a person she didn’t know into the house. Someone who could easily have looked up my name and where I lived on the Internet just to gain access into our apartment to kill us.

That’s it, no more crime shows for me.

“Of course, come right in.”

Great, my mom just let in a potential serial killer. I knew Edgar wasn’t a serial killer but she didn’t know that.

I got up and moved to the entryway. He stood there smiling at her with warmth. Edgar was a nice guy, but the way he gazed at my mom was as if he knew her. Which was weird since I had never even mentioned my family at work. I guess it’s his natural charisma bursting forth.

My mother shut the door and turned finding me staring at Edgar. “Oh, Evaleen, this man . . . ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“It’s Edgar,” he said.

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