Since the moment I laid eyes on Sara, she’s been mine. What started as texting has moved to a whole other level. I’ve stalked her. That’s the only way to put it. I’ve literally kept track of her every move, even installing listening devices at her desk so I could hear her voice during the day. The only time I can’t see her is when she’s in her apartment over her parents’ garage, but even then I sit outside, parked on the busy street and just watch, waiting for a glimpse of her.
I’m staring a hole in her, and she’s uncomfortable, but I can’t make myself care. Eventually the man that is sitting in front of her with his back to me turns to see what she’s staring at. I look at the man, or I should say boy. He looks as if he’s probably still in college. I glare at him, and his eyes get big and he turns back around. That’s right, dickhead, I’m right here. All I have to do is reach over and I could snap your skinny neck without even getting out of breath.
She’s trying to explain who I am, and I watch as she stutters over the words. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m her man. She may have thought this little game of going out with someone else was okay—well, it’s not. There’s nothing okay with another man thinking he may have a chance with what’s mine.
They don’t even order dinner. They each order dessert and coffee, and the punk eats faster than I’ve ever seen anyone eat in my life. As soon as the waitress brings the ticket, the man throws some bills on the table. They get up to leave, and the guy reaches in like he’s going to hug her. My girl freezes up just as I growl. He must hear me because he stops moving with his arms midair, and then he drops them to his sides.
He turns and looks at me, and I raise up from my seat, standing to my full height. I know he’s not challenging me. Fuck it. I have some energy to wear off, and nothing would make me happier than putting a fist in that college boy face of his. I take a step toward him, and he bolts, running out the door. And even though I’m glad he’s gone, it pisses me off too. I could be a dangerous man for all he knows, and he’s left her here alone with me. He’s definitely not worthy of her.
Sara is glaring daggers at me. I reach in my pocket and toss a hundred dollar bill on the table before walking over to her. She doesn’t wait for me; she turns on her high heel and stalks out of the restaurant. I follow her at a slower pace, watching her as she storms away from me. Men and women alike all watch her. She’s beautiful and seems to draw attention wherever she goes. She walks the few blocks, picking up the pace the closer we get to the office. Her anger must fuel her because I have to move faster to keep up with her.
When we get to the parking lot at the office, I lean against the brick wall as she unlocks her car door. She raises her head and looks at me. Yep, she’s still mad. Even from here, I can tell she’s pissed. I can’t really blame her. I know I just ruined her night.
She stomps toward me, and I suck in a breath.
“Stop stalking me. Stop texting me. Just stop.”
I shake my head side to side. “I can’t.”
“You’re driving me crazy.”
I nod, because I understand where she’s coming from. She’s driving me crazy.
She throws her hands up in the air and turns to go. I should let her go and cool off, but I can’t keep it to myself any longer. “You’re mine, Sara Chambers.”
She turns so fast she wobbles on her high heels. She steadies herself and stares at me. She thinks I’m crazy. I can see it by the way she’s staring at me. “How? Because you stalk me and send me texts? I’m not yours, Mr. Tate. You’re going to have to try a little harder if you want me to be yours.”
I simply nod at her. She gives me another dirty look and walks back to her car. I stay where I’m at, my arms crossed over my chest.
She wants more, I’ll give her more. “Challenge accepted.”
Chapter 3
Sara
I barely walk in the door at the marketing firm the next morning when I hear a beep from my phone in my purse. I walk across the office, nodding at my coworkers as I go by. When I get to my desk in the corner, I drop my bag in my seat. Reaching into my purse, I pull out my phone and open the text message: "Nice skirt. Did you wear that for me?"