Page 83 of If Our Hearts Collide

“I am too.” The more I get to know Angie and Claire, the more I like them. They are sisters to me, and in just a few days my employers.

Things seem to be falling in place for me. Maybe I’ll be all right after all.

“Some storm last night, huh?” Claire asks, plopping down into the chair at the cafe that is situated along the water. “I’m pretty sure I ate all my feelings from the stress alone. I kept imagining I was going to give birth and that there would be no way of getting to the hospital.”

“Oh no,” I commiserate. I know how stress can eat at someone.

“You know people have given birth in their cars on the side of the highway, right? Like, that’s a thing, you know? I can’t even find my shoes in the car when I kick them off, let alone be able to find the baby if I were to give birth in one. And you know Nic would just freak. He threatens me daily that wrapping me in bubble wrap is still a viable option if I misbehave. Sheesh.”

When she finally takes a breath, we all give her a sympathetic look. Nic warned us via text prior to Claire arriving that she has been having some extreme anxiety lately. She still has a while to go, and worrying about every little thing is not good for her or the baby.

Momma sighs, clutching her heart. “Oh dear, I trust my son would be able to handle any curveball that gets thrown his way. Here”—she stands up to grab the extra chair to pull it closer—“put your feet up. You need to relax.” Momma glances down at her phone, buzzing on the surface of the table. She snickers at the message, turning the screen over and laying it again flat.

A growl escapes Claire. “He just texted you, didn’t he?”

“Umm…”

“So,” Angie says, clapping her hands together, “did Penny tell you she is going to work at Plus None?”

“I was there, remember?” Claire snaps, looking enraged.

“I was talking to Donna,” Angie says smoothly.

“She did,” Momma says with a smile. “I think that’s wonderful.”

I look up from the menu, glancing toward Angie and Claire. “I’m really excited.”

“You are going to be a great asset to our brand,” Angie says with pride.

I’m not sure why she has so much confidence in me. Maybe it’s my last name and the assumption that I’ll be stubborn and determined to get things done right. It’s in the Hoffman blood.

“I think it’s exciting you found your own place too,” Claire interjects, taking a big bite of the bread from the basket in the center of the table. Maybe she was just hangry upon arrival.

“Well, I’m guaranteed a roommate. I just haven’t met her yet.”

“Luckily you get along with basically everyone, Pen,” Momma says, making me smile. She is always so complimentary.

I lean over and give her a squeeze.

When the waiter returns with waters, another basket of bread, and cold strawberry soups, we place our main food orders—mine being a spinach and goat cheese salad with fresh mandarin oranges.

“So, Penny,” Angie says, “your brother was telling me that you were in the city when the storm hit.”

“Yeah, I was given access to my apartment and was checking it out. I got all of these warnings on my phone to take cover. Collins was with me because”—I motion with my hand—“well, I can’t drive yet. Anyway, there was no damage to the building, and I was glad not to be alone.”

I watered down the entire story, but how do I tell them that I have a bit of a crush on my secret bodyguard? How do I tell them that even a brush of his hand can cause me to want things I spenta year thinking I would never want again? Sure, I flirted with a couple of the workers coming in and out of the facility while in Seattle, but I was really just testing the water—desperate to rearrange my emotions to mimic something that looked normal.

That’s all I want for myself. I want normal.

Nothing about Collins Stone is normal though. Just the way he stayed with me last night—without expecting anything in return—is not normal. Guys don’t do that. Bodyguards don’t do that either. I doubt he ever spent time in either of Angie or Claire’s bedrooms. Sure, I was at his place, but he could have easily retreated when I finally fell asleep.

But he stayed.

Plus, he is older—a lot older. So no wonder why every time I look at his hands, I imagine him knowing what to do with them when given the chance. He’s probably been with dozens of women.

“For those of us who thought being alone was inevitable,” Angie continues, “it’s a wonderful feeling when you let down your guard to allow someone in.”

Her words hit me harder than I think she intended them to—but I’m not letting Collins in. I’m actually trying to push him out. He’s the roadblock I’m trying to avoid right now. And based on everything he divulged back at his place, I doubt he’d ever want more with anyone.

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