Page 14 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost
"No, thank you. I was just leaving."
I navigate through the restaurant with my chin up, ignoring the curious glances from diners watching a woman leave alone in a dress meant for someone else's eyes. Thebitter fog rolls in from the bay outside, wrapping around the streetlights like gauze. Perfect. Weather to match my mood.
Don't let this derail you, Bennett. It's just dinner. Just a man.
But it wasn't just dinner. It was a rare crack in my armor. A moment of vulnerability I can't afford.
I push through the heavy glass door, ready to disappear into the night and forget this evening ever happened. A solid figure brushes past me in the entrance, the unexpected contact jarring me from my thoughts.
I stumble back, steadying myself on the door frame as I look up at the wall of a man I've collided with. His shoulder alone is wider than both of mine combined.
Damn. I blink twice, trying to process what my eyes are seeing.
The restaurant lighting catches on his features like it's studying architecture—hard angles and deliberate lines that shouldn't work together but somehow create something... magnificent.
His jawline is sharp and angular, framed by a hint of stubble that catches the golden light. He's tall—absurdly tall—with broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, the kind of build that makes every woman in the room secretly track his movements.
My reporter's brain starts cataloging details automatically. The expensive cut of his custom leather jacket that looks completely out of place yet somehow works perfectly in this upscale restaurant. His posture radiates authority, the unmistakable bearing of someone accustomed to giving orders and having them followed without question.And his eyes—piercing, intelligent, and focused entirely on me with an intensity that makes my skin heat.
My breath catches in my throat. Something about him feels... familiar? But I would remember meeting someone like him. No one forgets a man who occupies space like he owns it.
"I—" My voice betrays me, refusing to form words.
He doesn't speak either. Just looks down at me with those impossible eyes, a slight furrow between his brows. The crowd in the restaurant continues to move around us, but we're suspended in this moment, like time operates differently within our small bubble of space.
His gaze travels over my face, not in the evaluating way men often look at women, but with a strange intensity that feels like he's memorizing every detail. A curious half-smirk lifts one corner of his mouth, maybe as an apology for our collision?
My heart hammers against my ribs. What is wrong with me? I interview corrupt officials and confront dangerous people for a living. One attractive stranger shouldn't leave me speechless.
But there's something more coming from him that goes beyond his physical size. An energy that feels like tightly controlled power. Authority without needing to demand it.
His scent catches me—subtle notes of sandalwood and something woodsy that makes me want to lean closer despite myself. The black dress suddenly feels too tight, too revealing under his steady gaze.
Stop staring and say something, Bennett.
"Excuse me," I finally manage, hating how breathless I sound.
He doesn't reply verbally.Instead, he gives a single, measured nod that somehow conveys both acknowledgment and something else, almost like recognition, though that's impossible.
My curiosity kicks in, questions bubbling up.Who are you? What do you do that gives you that confidence? Why do I feel like I've seen you before? Why am I still standing here?
Our eyes remain locked for another beat. The tension between us pulses like something alive, drawing me toward him despite all my carefully constructed walls. His expression shifts subtly, still serious, but now with something that looks almost like a challenge in those blue depths.
My lips part to say something—anything—to break this spell.
But he steps aside with unexpected grace for someone his size and moves past me into the restaurant, taking all that intensity with him.
The fog swallows me as I step fully outside, leaving me with the strange, hollow feeling that something important just slipped through my fingers.
I stand rooted to the sidewalk, staring into the swirling fog where that blue-eyed stranger disappeared. My skin feels electrically charged, every nerve ending still humming from our brief encounter.
"What the hell just happened?" I whisper to myself.
David's text message burns in my memory. The perfect evening shattered by twelve impersonal words. And now this—this inexplicable moment with a stranger that somehow feels more significant than the entire date.
Getit together, Bennett.
I dig my phone from my purse, scrolling past David's message with a quick swipe of my thumb. My fingers hover over my screen as I contemplate my next move.
