Page 245 of On a Fault Line

Scanning over the menu, I distract myself with the various options, hoping that Penny doesn’t become so angry with me that she refuses to eat. I need her strong and feisty today for what I have planned, not weak and undernourished.

I sense Penny’s presence before I can locate her in the room. Scanning around the restaurant, I finally spot her talking with the hostess at the entrance.

She looks spectacular. But then again, she always does.

I watch intently as she weaves herself through the room, settling at a two-person table that is within sight range.

My beverage arrives over ice. Taking a sip, I lean back against the chair, admiring my perfect view of Penelope Hoffman.

Whipping her body around, she catches me staring, and my boldness makes me refuse to look away.

Looking at Penny is like staring into the sun. It gives you life, but if you’re not careful, it can burn you.

Uh-oh…

Here she comes…

I quickly cross my ankles at my feet, bracing myself for whatever she chooses to dish out in anger.

“You are making this weird,” Penny snaps.

“Are you really stomping your foot?”

She props her hands on her hips and exaggerates her foot movement. “Yes.”

“You keep ignoring me.”

“And I’ll continue ignoring you.”

I can’t help but smile. She clearly isn’t ignoring me now. When she catches on, she bares her teeth, and it’s a beautiful sight. “Leave.”

“No. I was here first.”

It’s true. Now, granted, I was ninety-nine point nine percent sure she would be here as well. But that’s irrelevant.

“What are you doing here?”

I look around the Mediterranean restaurant. “I’m not doing anything other than enjoying this fine establishment.” It really is beautifully designed. I’m thankful Penny’s stubbornness has led me here. At least I’ll eat well while I stalk her.

“You followed me.”

“Maybe you followed me,” I tease. “Remember”—I tap my jawline and then prop my chin on my hand—“I was herefirst.”

Penny glances around the place, while rocking on her heels. Is she looking for someone? Actually, I know that answer already. She most definitely is. And that’s the reason I am really here.

“Please leave.”

“No. It’s a free country.”

“Nothing is ever random with you.”

“Oh, my feelings for you are very intentional.”

“You had your chance.” She makes a too-bad-so-sad face.

“Have you been enjoying your flowers I’ve been sending?”

“No, but my trash has been.”

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