Wanderlust Read Free Page A

any one of those
eighteen-wheelers out there, but somehow I knew he’d been the one
watching me.
    His face had been in the shadows then,
but now I could see he had a square jaw darkened with stubble and
lips quirked up at the side. Even those strong features paled
against the bright intensity of his eyes, both tragic and
terrifying. So brown and deep that I could fall into them. The
scary part was the way he stared—insolently. Possessively, as if he
had a right to look at me, straight in my eyes and down my neckline
to peruse my body.
    I suddenly felt uncomfortable in this
dress, as if it exposed too much. I wished I hadn’t changed
clothes. More disturbing, I wished I had listened to my mother. I
looked back down at my pancakes, but my stomach felt stretched
full, clenched tight around the sticky mass I’d already
eaten.
    I wanted to get up and leave, but the
waitress wasn’t here and I had to pay the bill. More than that, it
would be silly to run away just because a man looked at me. That
was exactly what my mom would do.
    Back when we still left
the house, someone would just glance at her sideways in the grocery
store. Then we’d flee to the car where she’d do breathing exercises
before she could drive us home. I was trying to escape that.
I had escaped
that. I wouldn’t go back now just because a man with pretty eyes
checked me out.
    Still, it was unnerving. When I peeked
at him from beneath my lashes, I met his steady gaze. He’d seated
himself so he had a direct line of vision to me. Shouldn’t he be
more circumspect? But then, I wouldn’t know what was normal. I was
clueless when it came to public interaction. So I bowed my head and
poked at the soggy pancakes.
    Once the waitress gave me the bill,
I’d leave. Simple enough. Easy, for someone who wasn’t paranoid or
crazy. And I wasn’t—that was my mother, not me. I could do
this.
    When the waitress came out, she went
straight to his table. I drew little circles in the brown syrup
just to keep my eyes off them. I couldn’t hear their conversation,
but I assumed he was ordering his meal.
    Finally, the waitress approached my
table, wearing a more reserved expression than she had before.
Almost cautious. I didn’t fully understand it, but I felt a flutter
of nerves in my full stomach.
    She paused as if thinking of the right
words. Or maybe wishing she didn’t have to say them. “The man over
there has paid for your meal. He’d like to join you.”
    I blinked, not really understanding.
The gentleness of her voice unnerved me. More than
guilt—pity.
    “ I’m sorry.” I fumbled
with the words. “I’ve already eaten. I’m done.”
    “ You have food left on
your plate. Doesn’t matter how much you want to eat anyway.” She
paused and then carefully strung each word along the sentence. “He
requests the pleasure of your company.”
    My heart sped up, the first stirrings
of fear.
    I supposed I should feel flattered,
and I did in a way. He was a handsome man, and he’d noticed me. Of
course, I was the only woman around besides the waitress, so it
wasn’t a huge accomplishment. But I wasn’t prepared for fielding
this kind of request. Was this a common thing, to pay for another
woman’s meal?
    It was a given that I should say no.
Whatever he wanted from me, I couldn’t give him, so it was only a
question of letting him down nicely.
    “ Please tell him thank you
for the offer. I appreciate it, I do. But you see, I really am
finished with my meal and pretty tired, so I’m afraid it won’t be
possible for him to join me. Or to pay for my meal. In fact, I’d
like the check, please.”
    Her lips firmed. Little lines appeared
between her brows, and with a sinking feeling I recognized
something else: fear.
    “ Look, I know you aren’t
from around here, but that there is Hunter Bryant.” When I didn’t
react to the name, her frown deepened. “Here’s a little advice from
one woman to another. There are some men you just don’t say no