“Then what was that about?”
“It was about me liking some stuff Eva decided was too fucking much for her.” He sighs, a frustrated, angry sound. “You know what? Forget it. Told you this was a bad idea from the start.”
And just like that, he turns around and goes, slamming the door of the apartment behind him.
He forgot his jacket.
Sitting on the sofa, I hold it to my face and shamelessly inhale the scent of leather and man. It’s morning time—late morning—and the pale autumn light slants through my windows. Last night seems like a strange dream.
But it was real.
I was lucky. Hindsight is twenty/twenty. It could have ended pretty bad, both at the bar and here, with Kaden.
He didn’t hurt me, though. If anything, he was the one who seemed hurt as he left. He knows what everyone says about him. And he says it isn’t true.
Could I check the facts? Ask someone about this?
Should I bother? I’ll probably never see him again. Ours was a chance meeting, and no matter how handsome he is, how gentle he was with me, how his electric touch made me come in a way that turned me inside out, it was a moment of madness. I wanted a wild night out, a turning point for my life, and I got it.
Time to gather my pieces together, settle in and restart my life. I still need to unpack my suitcases, work on my photography website, see if I have clients in the area, and set up some advertising to find more. I have some money saved, but it won’t last me forever.
So much to do.
Then I glance down at my lap and his leather jacket.
Crap. How do I return it to him? Should I do the stalky thing and search for his address online, then show up at his doorstep?
Or wait to see if he comes back to claim it?
Tempting, but I shouldn’t. No matter what he said, why should I believe the charges against him were false? Better close this episode of my life quickly and quietly.
I grab my phone and google his name. When that fails, I try a few of the search engines for people that I know.
And what doI know? Zilch. He’s not listed.
I chew at a nail, trying to decide what to do. Forget it? Wait?
Or I could go back to the bar and ask the bartender. He seemed to know Kaden. I could ask for Kaden’s address, or leave the jacket there, ask him to pass it on.
Oh God, more craziness. I shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t head over, shouldn’t ask more questions about Kaden.
That’s when I remember that my car is parked at the bar since last night. Well, what do you know?
Smells like fate to me.
The bartender does a double-take when he sees me. He drops the rag he was using to wipe down the bar and chuckles.
“Well, well. Looks like you survived evil Kaden after all. What can I do you for?”
I can feel the frown pulling my brows together. “You’re teasing. Are you friends with Kaden?”
“I wouldn’t call us that.” He shrugs his massive shoulders. “But I’ve known him a long time.”
“These rumors, the charges against him… Is there any truth in them?”
“Truth. Such a relative thing.” He scratches at his beard. “He’s trouble, but he’s not a sicko.”
“Meaning?”