Page 12 of Calling All Angels
How odd this all was. How terribly odd. She felt strangely helpless. That was not a feeling she liked or was used to. She’d spent most of the last decade of her life pushing herself to survive and, more importantly, to succeed. On most people’s terms, she supposed, she had succeeded, building a great company, a crew of friends/employees whose lives were better for that work. Friends who would do anything for her.
By most standards, she was a success.
Just not by hers.
“Yer bein’ a wee bit hard on yourself, aren’t ye?”
She swung around to find Connor sitting beneath the tree behind her, one wrist slung over his bent knee. Looking…well…looking for all the world like he should be biting into a forbidden apple. With a snake slithering down from above.
“Apparently,” she said. “I can’t escape you, then.”
“Not really. No.”
“Did…did you just actually hear what I was thinking?”
“Might’ve,” he allowed, but it was clear he had.
“Well, stop that.”
He stared off at the horizon, where the smog from the city had settled like a brownish mantle. “I’m not all that interested, truth be told.”
“Oh. Good.”
“Fine,” he said but nonetheless started following her across the parking lot toward the field beyond as she walked away from him.
Finally, she swung around on him again. “Don’t follow me.”
“Afraid I must,” he replied. “Guardian thing.”
She scowled at him. “Keep back, then.”
With a slight bow, he answered, “As you wish.”
“Thank you,” she muttered, adding, “Farm Boy” under her breath as she stalked across the grassy field to the sound of his amusement.
“Farm Boy?” he repeated, following some ten feet behind her. “I assure you, I was never a farm—”
She whirled back and he skidded to a stop a few feet behind her. “That was pure sarcasm and a film reference. But rest assured, you’re no Westley.”
“Westley…?” he asked with an all–too–Westley-ish grin.
“Princess Bride?” she said, as if he should know. “Buttercup’s one true love? He was brave. Strong. Loyal,” she pointed out. “And helpful. Nothing like you apparently.”
“Ye’ve made that determination already, have ye?”
“Obviously. You’d clearly rather be anywhere than here with me. In my darkest hour,” she added dramatically. “I’m not even sure why you’re hanging around.”
“Some of us honor our commitments,” he said half under his breath.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
His gaze passed over her like a wave of heat, and he glanced at his wrist again. “We should be gettin’ back.”
“Go on, then,” she said. “Unless I’m about to wake up. Is that why you keep looking at that glowing thing on your wrist?”
“That’s not for me to say.”
He was the most frustrating man. Angel.Whatever.“I’d like to speak to your supervisor.”
