Cocky Bastard Page 49

As the elevator rose up, I hit the stop button.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she screamed.

Panting, I said, “If this is the only way I can get you to listen to me, then so be it.”

“You can keep me trapped in here for—oh, I don’t know—TWO years for all I care. I’m not talking to you. Maybe then, you’ll know what it feels like.”

Locking her against the wall with one arm on each side of her trembling body, I said, “I’m glad to see you’re stubborn as ever, Princess.”

Seeming uncomfortable with my close proximity, she swallowed before saying, “I need to get back to the office. Move this elevator, or I’m calling the police.”

“I get that you’re in shock. You weren’t supposed to find out that way.”

“Is there a good way to find out that the person who tore your heart to shreds is now stalking you?”

She had a point.

“Probably not. But you have to let me explain.”

The words that came out of her mouth next were hard for me to hear. “Do you realize how long it took me to get over you? My life is only just now getting back to normal. You can’t come back after two years and expect me to just let you in after I’ve fought so hard to let go of you. I’d finally let you go. Please. I’m begging you to leave.”

My chest was so tight it felt like it might burst.

She’d let me go.

Well, too fucking bad. I’m back.

“I’ll go…for now. But I’m not leaving town until you agree to let me explain what happened. If you still want me to go after you’ve heard it all, then I swear to God, Aubrey, you will never see me again for as long as you live.”

Her eyes started to water again as she looked into mine. Without taking my eyes off her, I let go of the stop button and pressed the number for the next floor.

“I’m staying at the Sunrise Motel, room eight. I still have the same cell number as before. You call me when you’re ready to listen.”

When the doors slid open, I got out, leaving Aubrey in the elevator with the ball in her court. I just hoped she didn’t choose to deflate it.

Chapter Seventeen

Was it even considered stalking anymore once the victim became clearly aware of the stalker’s presence? Now that Aubrey knew I was in town, it was a totally different experience with the risk of getting caught removed from the equation.

Over the next week, I was basically just camping out in Temecula hoping for a miracle. The only real stress was the wait for her to contact me. I’d check my phone constantly, thinking that maybe I’d missed her. But she never called.

Not wanting to piss her off more than I already had, I made a decision to take a break from showing up outside her office for a few days. Instead, I worked out hard at the gym all morning, taking my frustrations out on my body. I hadn’t touched a woman in over two years, and the only one I wanted was apparently taken and hated my guts. So, pumping iron was my way of coping with it until I could get her back. I only dreamt of all the ways I could take everything out on Aubrey instead.

After the gym, in the early afternoons, I’d head to her house and continue the landscaping there. Someone had to take care of it, for Christ’s sake. I laid down mulch, planted and put in two princess flower bushes. Who knew there was such a thing as a princess flower? They were the perfect choice.

The neighbors were used to seeing me working. With my pickup truck and mower in the back, they just figured landscaping was my job. My skin was now a shade darker after working for days in the sweltering heat. More and more mothers with strollers were walking by lately, too. I’d wave to them with dirt on my hands. These new female spectators seemed to be multiplying by the day.

The best part, though, about spending the afternoons at Aubrey’s was my time with the goat. Always waiting at the window, he’d come to expect me.

Pixy.

I still had to get used to calling him that.

I’d bring him lunch. We’d eat together. I was becoming unhealthily attached to the smell of his breath mixed with freshly-cut grass.

Stinking Bugger.

My nighttime schedule was the same as always. I’d head to the bar and unleash all of my troubles onto Carla Babes.

One Friday night, however, there was a surprise change in my routine. I was sitting on my stool at the bar when Carla asked, “What did you say Aubrey looked like?”

“Why?”

“Just describe her to me.”

“Petite but curvy, wavy auburn hair, wide eyes, creamy skin…”

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