Page 23 of Knight's Fall

“Thank you, Courtlyn. My breakfast was delicious, some of the best food I’ve had in a long time. If you wouldn’t mind getting it for me, I’d like one of the blueberry danishes you mentioned to me yesterday.”

Courtlyn felt her body relax, but she hadn’t realized she had tensed up waiting for Malcolm’s reaction. She stood with the coffee pot in hand. “Coming right up.”

She deposited the pot on the counter, used the serving tongs to place the pastry on a saucer, and carried it to his table. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said.

“Thank you.”

She walked back to the kitchen feeling oddly unsettled, and yet, she couldn’t stop wondering just what Malcolm’s story was.

∞∞∞

He waited, trying to calm his irritation. She was late today. Her shift ended a half hour ago, and she was still inside, working like a slave for people who didn’t appreciate her. He’d only briefly glimpsed it himself, but he didn’t need to come more often to know his first assessment was true. She was better than this place, and the longer she stayed, the more she would waste away.

His arm rested on the car door. He raised his hand to cup his chin, his finger rubbing back and forth across the space under his bottom lip. His keen eyes darted all around him, missing nothing, even as his thoughts were occupied with her.

She had a gift. He didn’t mean a gift for food, though she was an excellent chef. Even with her simple, old-fashioned dishes, he could tell she was special. She had a flair for turning the ordinary into something memorable. He knew his food, and he knew quality.

Even with her skill in the kitchen, she had a greater gift than that. She could read people. She could empathize. She could move passed her own problems to make a day brighter for someone else. She despised her bitch of a coworker, but she still acted professional. She rose above her hatred on a daily basis.

She fascinated him. He had a job to do, but he couldn’t stop wondering about her. Did her parents raise her to always take the high road in the shittiest of circumstances? What motivated her to stay in a dead-end place, to make food for people who could care less what her name was and sure as hell didn’t appreciate the quality of their meal? What made her be real with him, a stranger, and to tell him the truth instead of trying to make light of his probing questions?

He could spot a phony. It was a skill he’d honed early on in his life, so he knew she was the real deal. She didn’t try to hide who she was or try to sugarcoat her opinion. She was genuine. Truly genuine people sparked his curiosity. What made them tick? How much did it take to turn that genuineness into something darker, meaner, maybe even cruel?

She finally emerged from the diner through the kitchen exit. He couldn’t understand why she went through that door to walk up the alley to where her car was parked at the other end of the lot. Even in the daytime, it wasn’t safe. She could easily be attacked or abducted without anyone noticing.

The light of day provided a false sense of security. People assumed because there weren’t shadows to hide in, danger couldn’t be lurking around them. Oh, how wrong they were.

He had an unobstructed view of her car, a cheap compact ride that didn’t look like much with its faded paint job and dented bumper. When she started the car, the engine didn’t sound like it belonged to the car. It purred like a kitten as if the engine was bragging that it was newer and flashier. The contradiction intrigued him even more. Why spend money on an engine only to put it in a piece of shit body like that? The car probably carried some sentimental value. Another vulnerability on her part.

As she pulled from the parking lot, he maneuvered his car to follow behind her. He kept one to two car lengths between them, but he doubted she noticed him. She wasn’t expecting anyone to follow her. That was a strength of his. Capitalizing on people’s lack of awareness. It’s why he was so good at what he did. And why he was sought after for his special set of skills.

He’d followed her the last time he’d visited the diner too. He had the time to spare. His job required patience, which meant he needed something to occupy him when he wasn’t working. She had the misfortune of wandering into his path during his downtime, and now he couldn’t forget her.

He spent last night thinking of her, deciding if he could manage to spend time with her while completing the job he was hired to do. He didn’t like to split his focus while he worked. He went in and got out with no one even connecting him to what he did. A distraction could ruin the job, but he had a feeling she would be worth the risk. He deserved to do something he wanted and not always do the things he was hired to do.

She took the same route home, so it didn’t take long for her to reach the quaint house. He drove past without her looking his way. Turning onto the next street, he drove a few yards before pulling into a gravel driveway and stopping in front of a blue stone house with a “for sale” sign in the yard.

The house was perfect — a one-story structure on a quiet street with little traffic. There wasn’t a house across from it, and the closest neighbors on either side were far enough to mind their own business where he was concerned. They were couples who worked during the day and kept to themselves at night. His comings and goings would be of little concern to them. When it was all said and done, they wouldn’t even be able to describe him should anyone ask.

He drove his car around to the back where it wasn’t visible from the road. The house didn’t have a garage, which he preferred to have, but he could make do.

Time to go to work. If he wanted to accomplish all he set his mind to, he had some planning and preparation to do.

Chapter Twelve

Courtlyn coached herself for her big move. She showered, taking extra time to shave her legs and armpits, exfoliated her skin and applied a hair mask. Drying her hair with a diffuser, she opted to pull the wavy strands into a ponytail, so she didn’t look like she’d put a lot of effort into her appearance. She added a light coating of makeup, using liner to make her dark eyes pop and mascara to thicken her lashes.

She chose a black bra and panty set that wasn’t fancy. It was comfortable but cut in a way that made her feel sexy. She wasn’t planning on anyone seeing her wear it, but she needed the confidence boost of how she felt in it. Sliding into her best pair of jeans that molded to her butt and made her stomach look flat, she pulled on a top in royal blue that enhanced her dark coloring and rosy tint to her skin. The outfit was casual and flattering, making a better impression than the other things Sexy Neighbor had caught her wearing.

With the box of pastries securely in her grasp, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to calm the butterflies dancing a rumba in her stomach.

“You can do this, Co. You can do this. You know how to flirt. You’ve actually flirted with guys before and had them ask you out because of it. This is no different. He is just a guy. A hot, beautiful guy with the potential to rock your world and break your heart, but you deserve this. You need this. So go for it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Fueled by her pep talk, she reached for the doorknob, ready to step into her backyard and cross the distance to his house. Then the voice in her head — sometimes the voice of reason but sometimes the voice of doubt — started ticking out the worst things that could happen.

His girlfriend could open the door, and he could introduce you as his lonely neighbor. He could be alone, but he could just take the pastries from you and laugh at your pathetic attempt to flirt. He could seduce you for a one-night stand and then ghost you. He could tell you that you aren’t his type and then put you in the friend zone.

Her hand dropped. She stared at the doorknob as if it unlocked a secret entrance to a magical world but would burn her if she tried to open it. Olivia would give her grief if she could see how she was reacting right now. She was being ridiculous. She was a catch. She was a nice, hard-working woman who was kind to others and who could cook. She had nice hair and good skin. Her body was more fleshy than toned, but men supposedly liked curvy women these days. For once, she wasen trende. He should count himself lucky that she was even interested in him at all.

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