Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(45)
It might have been the food, or the service, or the atmosphere, but mostly it was the tie between them that made it special. Everly wasn’t sure if Drake felt the same way, but she loved the place just because it had become their “thing.”
She’d have eaten sushi every night for the rest of her life if it meant her fireman was sitting in the booth next to her, staring at her with that warm, hungry look in his eyes.
Her sigh was heavy and heartfelt. “I can’t. Allison and I are supposed to go over the plans for the charity golf tournament. She’s made reservations at this swanky place, and she’s volunteering, so I can’t—”
“It’s okay.” And his warm, laughing tone assured her that it was. “Call me when you’re done?”
“It might be late. I’d hate to bug you if you’re sleeping.” She leaned a hip against the front counter, watching through the window as the sun’s last rays disappeared over the horizon.
“You’re a dream worth waking up for.”
As the handset descended toward the cradle, Everly couldn’t help grinning like a fool.
How could she have been so nervous about this? It had been amazing being with him. He got her better than anyone other than Jesse seemed to. Their dogs got along great, they liked the same food, TV, and music, and Drake was as big of a fan of a Sunday afternoon nap as she was. Especially when it started with some energetic exercise of the naked variety.
So why was she still nervous about their relationship?
Jesse was convinced it was just her old hang-ups dying hard. And there was some truth to that.
Everly stacked Charlie’s Post-it notes behind the computer screen. She’d let Charlie go home early, since it was a Tuesday evening and pretty darn dead around there as far as foot traffic. Just another ten minutes and she could lock the doors, change into the nicer clothes she’d brought for her dinner with Allison, and head off to meet her fundraising chair.
The phone rang again, and halfway hoping it was Drake, Everly picked up the handset once more.
“Hopeful Paws, this is Everly, how can I—”
“Stay the hell away from him.”
The words dripped so much malice that Everly nearly dropped the phone.
“What?”
“You heard me.” Everly’s heart started to pound in alarm as the female voice continued. “Stay the hell away from him or you’ll be even more sorry.”
“I think you’ve got the wrong number.” Anxiety peaking, Everly looked out the window, but the parking lot was empty.
“I know exactly who you are and what you’ve done. Bitch.” She spat the name at Everly, and then the line went dead.
The handset fell slowly from Everly’s ear, the dead air sounding louder than a gunshot. Her hand shook, and it took three tries to get the damn thing back onto the cradle.
She sank onto Charlie’s rolling black office chair, grateful that she somehow managed to keep the thing from skidding out from underneath her. For some reason her knees weren’t up to the task of keeping her upright anymore.
What the hell had that been about? Who was that mysterious person trying to warn her away from? She hadn’t done anything wrong, so what did that woman mean, what she’d done?
“It was just some random creeper,” Everly said, forcing herself to stand despite the way her spine still tingled. “Some unhinged weirdo who gets off on making people uncomfortable.”
Even though there was still eight minutes until closing time, she crossed the lobby and locked the front door. No one else was coming in tonight, and she needed the extra time to pull herself together to get ready to meet Allison.
Fifteen minutes later, dressed and with a fresh coat of gloss coating her lips, Everly rushed from the back door of Hopeful Paws to her Jeep. She didn’t feel totally secure, even with the car doors locked behind her.
That phone call had weirded her out, for sure. Punching the radio power button, she dialed the station to a beach music channel. With a bippy Beach Boys tune accompanying her, she drove the short distance to the swanky restaurant Allison had chosen.
Before she left the car, she argued with herself for a minute about calling Drake. He’d say it was nothing, because it was nothing. She was stupid for letting it bother her.
Shoving her phone into her purse, she opened the door and headed into the restaurant, her heels clicking determinedly on the well-lit walkway into La Belle Italia.
The hostess escorted her to a table in the far corner, where Allison sat nursing an enormous glass of red wine. Her normally perfect blonde hair was slightly mussed, as if she’d been running an irritated hand through it. Her phone was up to her ear, and her expression was anything but happy. She waved to Everly and gestured at her to sit down.
“…telling you, it’s completely false. Would I steer you wrong? This organization has gone above and beyond for animals in the city of Dallas, and the fact that you’re willing to back out because of this is incredibly disappointing, Alan.”
Everly’s heart dropped for the second time that night. Alan Wharton was the head of Branch Motors, the biggest corporate sponsor for their charity golf tournament. They’d already started advertising. If Alan pulled out now?
It would be incredibly difficult to find another sponsor on such late notice.
“It is. Yes.” Allison’s sigh was loud. “Fine. Let’s talk then.” She killed the call and pillowed her head on her arms. “Everly, feel free to shoot me.”