Page 13 of Stone
I’d tossed all thoughts of intimacy aside for the sake of my career. Or lack thereof. I did okay, several paintings recently selling to a high-profile client, but I needed to keep the job at the boutique to make ends meet.
“When the right man waltzes through the door. Big, buff, and all alpha male,” I told her.
She half laughed, half choked. “Those are few and far between. Maybe you should stop pining away for some fantasy man. Tall with whiskey-colored hair and eyes to fall into.”
“Stop it. I’m not pining away.” Pining away was a bit much. What I was doing was pretending that I could be a normal girl who’d followed her dreams instead of the failure I’d believed myself to be for almost twenty years.
“Yes, you are. You forget who you’re talking to. Remember?”
I had shared almost all my dirty little secrets with her during my weak points, although they were few and far between. I was the regular good, boring girl. Even though I trusted her completely, I’d kept the darkest part of me secret. Not from fear of her breaking my trust, but from anxiety that once I opened Pandora’s Box, I’d never be able to close it again. “I’ll start dating at some point.”
“Uh-huh.”
We both heard the little bell on the door ring and my guess is our faces reflected having a last-minute customer. They were usually the worst. Demanding. Uncaring about the time of night. This I didn’t need.
A well-dressed man walked in with a confused look on his face and that was the icing on the cake. He had no clue what he was looking for and wanted my advice. Then he’d look at every dress, possibly asking me to try one or five on so he could see which one he thought his wife would prefer. He’d be in crisis mode since he almost forgot about her birthday. I knew the type all too well.
Colette’s face fell. “My turn.”
“No, girl. You have a date. I’ll take care of him and lock up.”
“You’re sure?” Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. I’d be a terrible boss if I allowed her dream man to wait.
“I’m sure. Go. This won’t take long.”
She rushed toward me, blowing kisses before grabbing her purse and rushing toward the door. I laughed and followed her, locking up so no one else would slip in. With a deep exhale, I turned toward the older gentleman. “Puis-je vous aider, monsieur?”
Asking the last-minute shopper if I could help him had been my first mistake.
Agreeing to try not one, but six different dresses had been my second.
Encouraging him to purchase matching accessories my third and final one.
By the time he left, another hour and a half had gone by. It was dark. It was late. My feet hurt.
And dear God, I needed a glass of wine.
I closed and locked the register, taking the receipts and little cash to the safe, made certain everything was in order and finally headed for the door to slip out thirty minutes after that.
As soon as I was outside, I realized I’d grabbed my thin coat that morning and it was officially freezing tonight. At least the walkto my pied-à-terre wouldn’t take long, six minutes tops. One of the reasons I adored my cozy apartment was the proximity to where I worked as well as other fabulous bistros, art galleries, and coffee shops. The mainstay of existence.
Plus, I had an incredible view of the city, which had inspired more than one painting. Given the time, the traffic was light and the crowds on the sidewalks not nearly as thick as usual. However, the city was alive with energy, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and croissants filling the air.
My stomach rumbled since lunch had consisted of cheese and crackers. Also a mainstay. All the money I earned I squirreled away with dreams of buying a little house in the countryside one day.
I might be sixty before that happened, but I’d get there.
Of course, that was after I toured the world as a celebrated artist. Yeah, right. I laughed softly. At least the dream kept me warm at night.
With my steps quick, I nodded to a few people as I headed home. When I stopped at a crosswalk, a strange feeling washed over me.
As if I was being watched. Followed.
I tipped my head over my shoulder, casually looking to see if I was right. No one stood out as doing anything but enjoying the walk to whatever fabulous place they were going.
Yet the tickling sensations continued. When the traffic was finally clear and I stepped off the curb, I quickened my steps. A few seconds later, my skin crawled and I looked again. That’s when I noticed a man in a long dark trench coat. While he wasn’tfollowing closely behind, something about his appearance troubled me.
My breath hitched and I picked up my pace a little more. When I looked again, he was still there.
