Where You Can Find Me by Fiona Cole

4

I barely sleptthat whole week. The sporadic sleep I did get was interrupted by dreams of the way his calloused hands felt on me. The words he spoke to me. The way he claimed me. His brilliant blue eyes haunted my dreams in the best way as I remembered the desire burning in them.

But what kept me awake after the dreams was the indecision about the way I felt about it all.

I first felt shame for having sex with a complete stranger in public. But then I remembered the way I felt when it happened. The rush of power. The strength of sexual energy and his attraction to me. It ran through me and lifted me up. It made me carelessly want to do it again. But did I want to with him, or with anyone? It felt like something I could be addicted to, and I had already learned the hard way to steer clear of addicting habits. Regardless, we hadn’t exchanged contact information, so I wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon. Crisis—and possible addiction—averted.

So there I was, after a long work week with no sleep, my cart rattling down the aisles of the liquor store.

That’s right, I was using a shopping cart at the liquor store.

I had a glass or two of wine every night after work and needed to replenish my stash. The pallet wine rack that hung on my kitchen wall looked sad and empty. The various bottles of wine in my cart rolled and clanged against one another as my phone beeped with an incoming text message. I pulled it from my pocket as I turned down the Moscato aisle.

Jameson: Why don’t we get together for dinner this Sunday? It’s been a while since we sat down with—

My phone fell to the ground as my cart came to a jarring stop. My wine bottles toppled over, producing a chorus of clangs as they fell into one another. Looking up, I hoped to see I’d run into an aisle or end cap, but my hopes were dashed, meeting the broad chest of a man.

Awesome.

Fortunately, it looked like his beer hadn’t been dislodged from his arms. As I raised my hands, plastering an apologetic smile on my face, I said, “I’m so sorry. I looked down for just a second and didn’t watch where I was going and … oh, my goodness. I’m so …”

My eyes locked on a very familiar, brilliant blue pair of eyes.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh, shit, oh, shit.

“Ohhh, shhhit.” I dragged it out, prolonging the horror that was my life at that moment.

“Why, hello, Luella. Fancy meeting you here.” Jack stared at me, his lips tilting up at the right corner. His eyes crinkled and almost gleamed in satisfaction.

I knew I looked like a deer in headlights and probably stopped blinking until he started speaking. My eyes were drying out, and still, all that fell from my lips was another. “Oh, shit.” Except this time, it came out as more of a whisper.

“I’m not going to lie, this isn’t usually the type of response I get after running into a woman I’ve been so … intimate with. But then again, they also don’t usually run out on me after such a thorough fuck.”

His lips stretched to a full-on smile now. Although I knew he was laughing at me, I couldn’t help but think about how damn hot he was. My dreams just didn’t do him justice. Standing before me, wearing black slacks, a dark navy T-shirt, and a black leather jacket, I was frozen, staring.

My mind screamed at me, holy shit, woman, SPEAK!

“Hi?” A question. I literally said “hi” as a question. I shook my head, trying to clear it. “I mean, hi, Jack.” I attempted a smile, but I felt like it was coming off almost maniacal and scared. “Yeah … fancy meeting you here too. How crazy that we would run into each other. Ever again. I mean, not that the chances are non-existent, but they are slim. And yet, here we are at a liquor store. Buying alcohol. Crazy. Not crazy that you drink …” And so it began: the word vomit. I couldn’t even make eye contact anymore. With a breathless laugh, I looked anywhere, but at him, sure that word vomit was the least of my worries. “I mean, obviously, you drink. You have that case of beer. And here I am with my drinks. All the wine.” I gestured wildly with my arms. “I mean, not all the wine. I’m not an alcoholic. I mean, I’ve tried drinking myself to death, but it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Cue awkward, high-pitched, borderline insane laugh.

I looked up to see the damage done. Although he wasn’t laughing out loud, his eyes were laughing.

“Oh shit.”

I dropped my head, ashamed of my awkwardness and a little alarmed that I made a joke about being an alcoholic.

Suddenly, a hand was on my chin, lifting my face to look at him. Somewhere during my rambling, he had set his case of beer down on the floor and stepped much closer to me. His laughing eyes were replaced with thoughtful ones. We both looked at each other with intense, unspoken questions. Surprisingly, it was not at all uncomfortable.

“Luella.” God! The way he said my name, his voice deep. “Why did you run away?”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to figure out how to express the panic I felt at that moment. When I opened them, they connected with his. The mood changed so quickly. Our comfortable intensity morphed into a seriousness that showed how bothered he felt by my departure. In an almost whisper, I admitted, “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Understanding crossed his features. He took a step closer and raised his other hand to brush the hair away from my face. The noisy hum from the refrigerator, the people milling about the store, the clinking of glass bottles… it all fell away as I stood in our own little bubble. What was it with this man that took control of me?

“Would you believe me if I told you I have never done anything like that before?”

“I can tell you that I would like to believe you.” Even if I don’t. I wasn’t really sure yet.

When I stepped back, he released me from his grip. “Well, how about this? We purchase our beverages, and I take you out to eat. Have you eaten yet?” I shook my head no. “Good. Let’s get dinner, and we can get to know each other better because, Luella,” he paused and leaned down to grab his beer, waiting for me to look at him again, “I can tell you I want to get to know you so much more. And I would like for you to know me well enough to believe me.”

I bit my bottom lip and hesitated for a second. So many pros and cons fought for dominance through my mind, and I was sure he could see the trepidation on my face, but in the end, I wanted this, and I hadn’t taken nearly enough opportunities for myself lately. I nodded and softly responded, “Okay.” And then, a little more loudly. “Sure.”

“Great! Do you like the brewery in Fountain Square?” I nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s make our purchases, and then I can drive us.”

“Oh, well, I need to take my car home first. Would you mind picking me up there?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I second-guessed them. If he picked me up from home, then he would know where I lived. What if he turned out to be crazy? What if I went missing because he was crazy and knew where I lived?

“Sure, I’ll follow you home.”

Shaking myself out of that line of thought, I headed toward the checkout. I’d been watching the news too much lately when I couldn’t sleep. They had found Angela Clemmons’ body earlier that week, left outside one of the many abandoned factories in downtown Cincinnati. Not much information was given on the case, but so far, no suspects were named, and the rumors about the body were not that of a fairy tale. My stomach lurched at the thought of all the possibilities.

“I’ll follow you home. I’m in the black truck.” Jack pulled me out of the dark thoughts as I headed to my car and left for home. I could drive myself crazy, always looking at everyone as though they were a killer, wondering if they were looking at me to be their next victim. I tried not to let my fear of being a single woman alone rule me, but I did respect that fear enough to make smart decisions. Even though I didn’t know much about Jack, other than how I felt powerful and aroused around him, I did know that I felt safe knowing it was his headlights that shined in my rearview mirror. I went with that feeling over all else.