Kane (Arizona Vengeance 8)

It makes me wonder what joys I might find in such an existence, not that I’d want to own a bookstore—or any store for that matter. More along the lines of establishing roots, I mean.

I raise my cup to my mouth, drain the last of my tea, and let my gaze drift to the storefront window as someone passes by. I’ve been surprised no one has come in yet since we’ve been sitting here a good twenty minutes.

It’s a man walking by. At first, my attention isn’t caught to any significant degree—just a passerby.

But then I do a double-take before he moves past the window and my hackles rise.

He’s wearing a hat. I can see blond hair poking out the back, but there’s something overly familiar in his stride. His height. His build.

He’s gone before I can fully comprehend what I might have seen, but I practically throw my teacup back onto the serving tray with an alarming rattle as I bolt out of my chair.

I think that was Matthew.

“Mollie,” Clarke says hesitantly, rising slowly from her chair. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Not a ghost.

But perhaps a man who is stalking me.

Swiveling to glance back at Clarke, I feel the words clog in my throat. I cough, then admit, “I think that was someone I know.”

“Someone not good,” she surmises, reaching out to touch my shoulder.

I hesitate. What if it was Matthew? Surely it wasn’t a coincidence he happened to stroll past a store I was in. He didn’t look inside. Instead, he’d rather casually—if not briskly—walked down the sidewalk.

Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me. It could have been any tall, blond man with a similar build. I didn’t get a good look at his face.

Or did I?

Yes, I think I recognized his nose. The slight bump along the ridge from breaking it in a fall off his bike years ago.

No, surely not.

But maybe.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Clarke, then scramble for the door. I push it open, bolt onto the sidewalk, and turn in the direction the man went.

He’s already on the next block, and I can’t tell anything from his back. I don’t recognize the clothing, but does that mean anything?

I consider giving chase, but what would I do if I caught him and it was Matthew?

What if I caught up to him and it wasn’t? Some mild embarrassment, that’s for sure.

Just as I resolve to take off after him, he angles to a sidewalk cafe with several outdoor tables. He heads straight to where a woman sits with her computer in front of her, a cup of coffee beside it. A pretty blonde dressed casually with her hair in a ponytail.

She glances up as the man reaches the table, giving him a surprised look and a half-smile. The man says something, and her smile warms even more. When he makes a motion toward the empty chair opposite her, she nods, indicating he can take a seat.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. What am I seeing? Is it Matthew or a man who resembles him in height and build, who is perhaps meeting a woman on a blind date for coffee? That would make more sense than him finding me on the downtown streets of Phoenix.

Plus, he didn’t look into the store as he strode by. Didn’t glance back down the block to see if I had come out of the store and would follow.

The bells of Clarke’s front door jingle, and she steps out. “Mollie… is everything okay?”

I peer over my shoulder at her, then back to the man who has now said something to make the woman laugh.

No, that’s not Matthew. It’s my anxiety playing tricks on my mind.

Turning, I give Clarke a nervous smile. “I’m fine. Let’s go back inside.”

“Do you know that man?” she asks, eyes glued to where I’d been staring.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I mean, I thought I did, but I don’t think it’s him.”

“Want me to walk down there with you for a closer look?” she asks, throwing her thumb over her shoulder to the door of her store. “I can close up.”

“No,” I exclaim, shaking my head. “No, it’s fine. I’m being silly. No way it’s him, so let’s go back inside.”

Clarke seems dubious, but she opens the door and motions me in. We return to the chairs, and she pours us more tea.

She levels me with a worried frown. “Who did you think it was?”

When I take the teacup she offers, I’m thankful my hands aren’t shaking. I’ve convinced myself it’s not him. “A former boyfriend. Well, it wasn’t serious or anything, but I broke it off when he got controlling. He has been stalking me. Actually, he found me in North Carolina the week before last and well… he attacked me. He didn’t do anything—Samson chased him off—but there’s a warrant out for his arrest.”