Page 5 of Come Home to Me

I turn to find the man who helped me after the accident. He smiles, helping himself to the stool beside me.

“Wow.” I glance around the crowded bar and draw my eyebrows together. “Are you following me?”

“What? No.” The man laughs and I can’t help but smile. “I’m here with people from work.” He gestures to a group clustered around a table behind him, all expensive suits, bold ties, and high heels. “I saw you walk in and just want to make sure you’re okay.” He glances at the bags propped against my stool but doesn’t say anything else.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Thank you for your help this afternoon.” I offer a weak smile as I study his face. Dark-rimmed glasses cover dark eyes. Add in a pair of thick, dark eyebrows and this man should look heavy, severe, and intimidating as all hell. But the good-natured slant to his smile gives him a welcoming air and I feel oddly comfortable sitting next to him. An expensive suit and expertly styled hair offset the kind of dorky glasses perched on his nose. He has this whole geek chic thing going for him and I think I like it.

He waves my words away. “Of course. Just the decent thing to do. Anyone else would have stopped.”

“But no one else did.” A new song comes over the speakers, one that has me tapping my toe along with the rhythm.

The group behind him erupts in laughter and he glances over his shoulder before folding his arms together and leaning on the bar. He indicates my bags with a flick of his finger. “Were you planning on staying in Denver or were you just passing through? Before the accident, I mean.”

“I don’t really have much of a plan.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and wince as I graze the cut on my forehead. “The ultimate goal is to sit on a beach in California, but I’m taking the scenic route, spending time wherever something catches my attention. I had no plans to stop in Denver, but it looks like fate had a different idea for me.” I hear the tinge of sadness in my voice and hurry on, hopeful Frank didn’t hear it, too. “I set out to have an adventure,” I say with a breezy smile. “Wrecking my car in a strange city definitely counts as an adventure, don’t you think?” I take a drink of my beer, head injuries be damned.

“Is it totaled? Your car?”

“Probably, but I won’t know right away. The mechanic promised to look things over and give me a call, but I’m not holding my breath for good news.”

The man bobs his head. “I’m Frank, by the way. In case you forgot. You were pretty rattled when I introduced myself this afternoon.” He holds out his hand and I take it with a nod. “Frank Wilde. I work in that building across the street.” He points to the giant conglomeration of glass and steel that inspired the doodle hiding in the balled-up napkin. Why do so many people think the second most important thing about who they are is what they do for a living?

“Sarah Carmichael.” I release his hand as a woman from his group levels me with a glare that would reduce most women into quivering piles of apologies. Thankfully, I’m not most women. I lean in to Frank, all seductive smile and sultry voice. “Looks like your girlfriend isn’t happy with you over here talking to me.”

He leans back, his jaw slack. “Who? Violet?”

I laugh as I shake my head. “I don’t know. If that’s Violet—” I point at the angry brunette in the fitted dress “—then sure.”

Frank glances over his shoulder and turns his focus back to me, annoyance flitting across his features. “No way. That is Bree and she is not my girlfriend. And for the record, neither is Violet.”

“Whatever you say.” I give him a look that calls him a liar and take a sip of my beer.

“She was.” Frank pushes his glasses up his nose. “But she’s not anymore.”

“Who? Bree?”

“Again. No way. Not once, not ever, not even a little bit. No matter how hard she tries to make it otherwise.”

I laugh. “I see.”

“I really don’t think you do. At least not the full extent of things.” He taps a finger on the bar in time with the music and another round of laughter catches his attention. “Anyway. I should be getting back. I don’t mean to bother you. Just wanted to stop by and make sure you’re okay. And since it sounds like you’re going to be in Denver for a while, let me give you my number. You call if you need anything.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I hand him my phone and he types in his number. I swipe his and do the same, then lean close and breathe him in. “Want me to kiss you and drive poor Bree crazy?” I ask, while trying to ignore the fact that his cologne might now be my favorite scent in the world.

Frank puts a hand on my knee. “You don’t have to drive her anywhere. She’s already there. Besides. I’d hate to bring the wrath of that woman down on you. Sounds like you have enough on your shoulders as it is.”

He’s right. I do. But something tells me kissing Frank Wilde would be worth whatever wrath Bree has to throw my way.

---