Page 17 of Knight's Desire

Hope released a long-suffering sigh. “This isn’t the same thing. Yes, I did have to cancel dates, but I didn’t wait until you showed up to the restaurant to do it. Besides, I said I’d play along, didn’t I? Let’s just get through this evening, and then we can talk more later.”

Both fell quiet as first Mr. White and then his wife returned to the table. Hope fell into the persona she knew Parker expected her to portray and tried to enjoy her prime rib dinner. The more time she spent talking to the Whites, the more she lost her appetite. The food was bland against her taste buds and sank like a stone to her gut. She finally pushed her plate away and declined dessert, sipping her wine while wishing for the evening to wrap up.

“Well, I just have to say,” Mrs. White declared, batting her lashes outrageously at her husband. “I believe you two are the most charming couple. I fully expect to receive an invitation when you finally decide to propose, Parker.”

Hope’s sip of wine caught in her throat. Her esophageal muscles reflexed and forced the offending liquid out her mouth, spraying across the table to douse Janice White in a spray of zinfandel and saliva. The reaction threw Hope into a coughing fit. Mrs. White jumped up with a cry while her husband tried to calm her. Parker just glared at Hope.

“I, uh….I…s….” Try as she might to apologize, the coughing and gasping for breath fought to overcome her. Tears ran from her eyes, and each time she tried to speak, her voice came out as a raspy squeak. They drew stares and some laughter, and when Hope registered the aftermath of her choking incident, she could understand why. The liquid she’d expelled ran down Mrs. White’s face, streaking through her makeup so she looked more like a horror house villain than a dinner guest. Fortunately, two waitresses approached to help, one assisting Mrs. White as they ambled off to the ladies’ room and one to Hope. Hope accepted the woman’s offer of a glass of water and followed her instructions to sip slowly until the burning in her throat surpassed.

“Bexley, you need to teach your woman some manners if you expect us to continue this arrangement,” Mr. White snapped once Hope caught her breath and thanked the waitress. She started to retort, but Parker spoke first.

“Of course, Mr. White. I promise you this was not intentional on Hope’s part. She’s had more wine than usual tonight, and obviously it just hasn’t agreed with her. Please send me the dry-cleaning bill for Mrs. White’s outfit, and we will cover the cost. And of course, your stay will be comped by the company in addition to your dinner. I’m so sorry for any embarrassment Hope may have caused. This has never happened before, I assure you.”

Hope wasn’t sure how long her mouth had stayed open in an oval of disbelief, but once she realized that the words coming from Parker’s mouth were meant to throw her under the bus instead of defend her, she snapped it close. She stood, fury hardening her features into a mask, and then walked with hurried, measured steps to the front of the restaurant. Just as she was about to reach the front door, she saw Mrs. White emerge from the powder room. She marched up to the woman with her head held high and her hand extended forward, a business card dangling from her fingers.

“Mrs. White, I am deeply sorry about what happened. It was an accident, and I hope you know I would never intentionally do anything to cause you embarrassment or harm. I hope you will come by my Shoppe tomorrow and choose one of our special occasion dresses. It will be on the house as an apology for my part in ruining your lovely outfit.”

Without waiting for a reply, she marched out of the restaurant. Part of her hoped Parker would follow her to apologize for the entire evening, but he never did. She slipped behind the wheel of her car, snapped her seatbelt into place, turned up the volume on her radio and peeled out of the restaurant, leaving behind a skid mark on the pavement.

She drove with no destination in mind, and once she hit a stretch of road with little traffic, she opened her window to let the night air blow the heat from her face. It cooled her skin, but it did nothing to squelch her temper.

Hope curved her bottom lip to blow air up and force a stray lock of hair away from her face. With the late hour and her mounting frustration, she felt it prudent to keep both hands on the wheel since she drove faster than was normal for her.

The needle on her gas gauge was closer to E than F when she finally decided to steer toward the Shoppe and redirect her anger into creativity. Her cell phone number chimed with a call or text from Parker — she wasn’t sure which and she refused to look — and she wondered if he was still at the restaurant kissing the Whites’ collective asses. Part of her — well, all of her, really, had hoped he would reach out to her and admit he’d handled everything wrong. She would forgive him. He was under stress, and Mr. Leonard was expecting him to pull in a big client for their real estate firm. She did understand how important his career was to him, but she would not let him demean her just to charm a client. That’s not what she signed up for, and she had a hard time believing Parker would stoop to such a jerky move.

As she drove, dusk drifted to night, providing a backdrop for bright stars and iridescent streetlamps that failed to brighten her mood. The traffic light looming ahead shifted to red, and she instantly took her foot off the gas and gingerly pressed the brake until she rolled to a stop. Her fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the music pumping through the car’s Bluetooth. Her playlist was eclectic, and she kept it on shuffle, so the next song to play was always a surprise.

She allowed her anger to fade as the soft strains of the love song dating back to the disco era seeped into her body, calming her. She knew the tune and the lyrics well because it was a favorite of her parents. Her soft humming soon melded into singing. By the time the traffic light signaled green, she was holding her own personal karaoke session in the front seat of her car.

She was lost in the music until a vehicle sped up close behind her, its LED headlights glaring through her back windshield, reflecting off her rearview mirror enough to hurt her eyes. She flipped the rearview mirror up to hide the glare, but her vision was still blinded by the bright lights. Her turn to head to the Shoppe came up on her left, but her execution was rough with her vision hampered. She was just lucky she didn’t meet another car heading toward her or waiting at the intersection because she could have caused a collision.

Her sigh of relief clogged in her throat when the vehicle also took the turn and kept close on her bumper. A thread of suspicion wound through her mind, and while she believed it to be unfounded, she decided to test it. She took the first turn she came to thinking the odds were slim that the vehicle would be heading in that direction too. She expected the driver to honk the horn at her sudden turn without using her signal, but the driver proved her wrong by turning behind her and continuing to ride her bumper. She sped up, and the vehicle sped up to keep the distance between them too close for comfort. Hope’s gut clenched.

“Siri, call Parker,” she shouted, and the car’s computer picked up her request. In the short time it took for the call to connect, she’d whipped herself into a hysterical mess, imaging every scary explanation for why the vehicle was following her.

“Hope, I know we need to talk, but I’m still—”

“I’m being followed. This truck or SUV or something is shining its bright lights in the window. It’s driving way too close, and it’s made every turn I’ve made. I think it’s trying to cause me to have a wreck. Parker!” The more she spoke, the more her panic rose until her voice came out as a frantic screech.

“Where are you?”

“On my way to the Shoppe, but I didn’t want to stop. I can’t keep going for much longer though. I can’t see with the lights being too bright. What do I do?”

“Whatever you do, don’t stop. I’m calling 9-1-1. Can you drive to the Sheriff’s Department?”

“No, I’m afraid I might hit someone. There are no cars now, but his lights are too bright. I can’t…I can’t see.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she barely noticed.

“The diner. Can you make it there? There will be people there. Pull your car right up to the door and run inside. Don’t even bother to get your keys or your purse. Do you understand, Hope? Don’t give him a chance to get to you. I have to hang up, so I can call for help. Just get to the diner. I’ll call back as soon as I can.”

“Yes, I can do it. Please hurry. I’m…I’m scared.”

“Hang in there, Hope. I’m getting help, and then I’m coming to you.”

The call disconnected, and Hope swerved into another turn. She almost lost control of the car, but she’d been too scared to slow down and take the turn carefully. Her goal was to surprise the person following her and lose the car, but her wish was dashed when the vehicle took the sharp turn more skillfully than she did. She took a moment to get her bearings and realized she was heading in the opposite direction of the diner.

Without another thought, she whipped her car into a U-turn and screamed when headlights shined in her eyes. She swerved to the right and narrowly missed careening into the vehicle following her. Driving along the shoulder for a few feet, she jerked the car back on the road and sped as fast as she dared.

Her boutique was coming up on her right, but she fought the urge to stop and seek refuge in the Shoppe. Parker’s instructions echoed in her ears, but then her eyes lighted on the parking lot next door, outside the private eye firm. A light shown from the lobby, and security lights illuminated the vehicles in the parking lot. It was the only building on the street with any sign of activity.

---