Page 31 of Fractured Fear

“Hey Spencer? The clay supplier is on the phone in the studio wanting to double check the order.” Hayes' voice is loud and oblivious to what’s going on in front of him.

Spencer jumps from my arms and bumps into the wall. She leans to the side so she can see around me. I’m not a big guy, but I’m not a twig either.

“Would you mind taking care of that, Hayes?”

When I glance over my shoulder I see the kid with horrible timing. He has his brow raised, checking to see if Spencer isokay. I look back and she gives him a subtle nod with wide eyes as if to tell him to clear out.

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Thanks.”

Hayes leaves and I turn back to Spencer who is clearly flustered.

“So. Umm. Thank you for coming by. Feel free to keep looking. I need to get back to some paperwork.”

She goes to leave but I grab her hand to halt her hasty exit. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me see you.”

That adorable blush returns and I allow the back of my hand to trace lightly down her heated cheek.

“I need to get going anyways, so I’ll walk you to the front.”

“That’s alright. I should head over to Clay Creations. Thank you again for coming, Zane.” She practically sprints to the connecting door.

The door’s resistance to let her through causes a blush to rise up the back of her neck. She kicks the door for good measure but eventually gets it open and leaves.

I make a mental note to fix that for her.

Her departure cuts off the light I have become addicted to. The light I can’t live without.

As I pass the front desk, I give a small goodbye nod to Iris.

“You should meet us at Moonlit tonight at eight. Jerry usually hooks us up with a few free drinks.” Iris’ invitation stops me in my tracks.

Another guy? What the fuck?

“Who’s Jerry?”

“Jerry is an old man, but his bar is pretty cool. We go out every so often for a little Ladies Night with Alma.”

Oh.

I smile at Iris but don’t give her an answer.

Looks like I’m crashing Ladies’ Night.

CHAPTER 12

SPENCER

Isit at the sticky bar top sipping on my rosemary vodka tonic, wondering why I let Iris talk me into tonight. She invited some of her friends so at least all the attention isn’t on me and my lack of donut glazing. Alma had to cancel because her sitter is sick and her husband is out of town on a work trip. I pushed Iris and her friends to let loose on the small dance floor so I could sit by myself for a bit and decompress.

I don’t particularly like drinking. I don’t like it when my head gets fuzzy or I forget what I do or say. I like always being aware. When I’m not aware I’m vulnerable, so while I enjoy spending time with Iris and Alma, I have a one drink limit.

Shifting in my seat, I adjust my dress for the millionth time tonight. It’s a simple, spaghetti strap, ruched bodycon in deep blue. At least that’s what the online description said. It’s more like a boa constrictor trying to squeeze the life out of me. I bought it so Iris couldn’t talk me into wearing one of her dresses. I curled my hair so it would fall into natural looking waves, and Iris applied a smokey eye that makes me look alluring. Too bad I can’t talk to a man without short-circuiting. That has been proven multiple times recently.

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