Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(40)
Author: Monica Murphy

“Sure. Sounds good.” I leave the room, nodding at Mandy when she gives me a smile. The dining area is dark and quiet but the bar is still in full swing. I wave and call goodbye to the bartender, Steven, then exit the building. I head toward my car, my head bent against the sudden wind that has come up. It holds a hint of fall in it, cold and sharp and making me shiver.

Crazy, considering it’s been hot as hell these last few weeks.

I climb into the car and wait, my gaze locked on the front door of the restaurant as I lean forward and turn on the radio. Long minutes pass and I check my email on my phone, answer a few texts that I didn’t realize had come through. I’ve been so damn busy for weeks. Months. Once the new location is complete, I’m taking a f**king vacation. Disconnecting from the entire world, leaving my phone at home if I can get away with it. I need the break.

I want Jen by my side when I take my break, too. Maybe we could go to Hawaii together. Or the Caribbean. Somewhere hot and tropical where I can watch her lounge on the beach in that tiny bikini she wore earlier, her skin golden from the sun, all that golden skin on display just for me. Just to drive me out of my mind . . .

A shrill yell breaks through my dream vacation thoughts and I sit upright in my seat, reach for the door handle, and scramble out of the car to see what happened. Who needs help.

I run across the parking lot, scanning to the left, then the right, but I see nothing. Panic makes my heart race when I realize it’s been at least fifteen minutes since I left Jen back in the restaurant. No way would cleaning up the private dining room take that long.

I see a woman crumpled on the ground, her dark head bent over as she rocks back and forth. I increase my pace, running at a full sprint toward the woman sitting there, and when she looks up at me, the relief written all over her familiar tear-streaked face, fear grips me so tight my vision blurs.

It’s Jen.

Jen

I stayed a little too long chatting with everyone still working, trying not to look too obvious that I wanted out of there, though I was still a little angry with Colin for what he’d said to me. Offering a moving truck, how freaking generous of him!

So I talked, I gossiped, and we laughed over silly stuff, my gaze constantly going to the clock on the wall above the bar. Fable kept sending me questioning looks and I know others noticed, too. They had to. I felt like everyone was watching me.

I’m afraid they’re all extra suspicious that I’m fooling around with the boss. It’s one thing when they say you’re doing it and you’re really not. I’m scared out of my mind they’ll figure us out, which means I’m probably becoming more obvious.

So stupid. I’m just nervous. I don’t want to be discovered. I don’t want everyone pointing fingers at me saying I’m f**king the boss.

I know people think it, but until recently the rumors were unfounded. Fable’s been great about trying to dispel them in that no-nonsense way of hers. But now it’s the truth. It’ll be hard to face them if they find out I really am doing the boss. I want my coworkers to respect me, not think I’m easy or getting special treatment.

Finally I extract myself from them, after refusing what feels like endless offers to stay and have just one drink. I glance at my phone, surprised to see almost fifteen minutes have passed, and I hope Colin isn’t mad that I kept him waiting.

Knowing I’ve been angry with him all night, he will probably let this one slide.

Stopping at the front door, I frown, staring out the window at the darkened parking lot. He won’t be mad. He’s never mad. Indifferent, yes, but not after what happened last night.

Or just a few hours ago.

I shouldn’t be mad either. He’s just keeping his word, right? An easy no-strings affair is what we’re having. I’m leaving in less than two weeks. He’ll miss me, I know it, just like I’ll miss him. But I need to remember that what we’re experiencing right at this very moment is nothing more than a fling. A fling that will turn into fond memories later on down the line.

Yeah. I really need to remember that. Forget I’m anxious to see him.

Scanning the parking lot, I wonder where the security guard is. A few of the streetlights that illuminate the lot are out, shrouding certain pockets of the space in total darkness. I’ll have to walk across one of those dark spots to get to Colin’s car.

Should I text him and tell him to meet me at the door? He’d do it. I know he would . . .

Nah. He’ll think I’m a total wimp if I do that. I can run across the lot. It’s no biggie. He’s just right there.

The minute I walk outside the wind hits me, chilling me to the bone. I duck my head against it, my shoulders hunched as I dart across the parking lot. Glancing up, I see Colin sitting in his car, his head bent, the glow from his cell phone illuminating his face. I smile, my belly filling with tiny, fluttering butterflies at the realization that this beautiful, sexy man is mine, at least temporarily.

Out of nowhere a bulky figure comes at me, knocking me off my feet. I fall onto the asphalt with a cry, hitting the ground so hard the wind is knocked out of me. I curl into myself for protection, my arm feeling like it’s being tugged right out of its socket.

“Come on! Gimme your purse, bitch!” The guy towers over me. I can’t make out his face since the shadows are cast over it, but he sounds young. Possibly even younger than me.

I hadn’t realized I was gripping my tiny purse so tightly. Loosening my hold, I let him take it, then watch in stunned disbelief as he tucks it under his arm like a football and takes off across the lot, rounding the corner and disappearing from view.

I’m panting, left sitting sprawled on the asphalt. Icy shock washes over me as I glance about the parking lot. My throat is dry, I can’t manage to form a single word, and I swallow hard. Trying to stand, my legs wobble and I stumble, falling down on my knees, wincing at the pain that lances through me when I make contact with the ground. I look down, see that my knees are scratched and bloody, and that’s when I find my voice.

And scream bloody freaking murder.

Within seconds Colin’s there for me first, with a few people from the restaurant surrounding me soon after. Someone, I don’t know who, calls 911. Colin has his arm around my shoulders, his face in mine, his voice a mixture of concern and cold, calm anger.

“What happened, baby?” He leans into me and whispers this in my ear, his hand smoothing over my hair in a comforting gesture. “Who did this to you?”

I press my head against his strong, solid shoulder and close my eyes for a moment, refusing to cry. I won’t let this upset me. That jackass who took my purse—and all of tonight’s tips with it—isn’t worth crying over. I’ve endured worse. Much, much worse. This is no big deal. “I was walking toward your car and this guy ran into me, pushing me onto the ground. He—he stole my purse.” My voice wavers and I sniff hard, willing the tears that threaten to disappear.