The Wrong Right Man(16)
“I just bought you breakfast.” He looks down at me as we walk down the block toward his SUV parked on the street.
“I know, but now were going to the movies, so I’m going to need a snack.”
“Fine.” He beeps the locks then opens the door for me to get in. Once he’s behind the wheel, he starts the engine. I pull out my cell from my bag when it beeps with a message and frown when I see Braxton’s name on the screen. “Is that Troy?” Jamie asks.
“No, my boss,” I lie, opening the screen and going to the app for the theater, wondering when the hell Braxton had a chance to program his number into my phone.
“Your boss is messaging you on a Sunday?”
“Yeah, she’s just making sure I’m ready for the show Monday.”
“I could never fucking work in the business world.”
“Why, because you couldn’t sleep in everyday and party all night?”
“Basically.” I hear the smile in his voice as I purchase our tickets for a show that starts in thirty minutes. “So, have you talked to Troy?”
I shove my phone in my bag even though I really want to read the text waiting for me. “He sent a text in the middle of the week telling me that he would be in Seattle in a couple weeks and wants to meet up.”
“You’re not going to meet with him, are you?” I hear the annoyance in his tone.
“I don’t want to, but he said he has a box I left in the closet, and I know after getting my stuff from storage that it’s a box of photos of me, you, and Mom, and I’d like them back.”
“Tell him to fucking mail them.”
“I would, but I’m worried if I do, he might just toss them in the trash,” I say quietly, having no doubt he would do that just to be vindictive.
“I’ll go get them for you.”
“Jamie.” I sigh. “I’m going to meet him somewhere. I’m not going to dinner with him or out on a date. You need to give me some credit.”
“I know you don’t want to be with him, Dakota, but I know he’s a smooth talker, and that fucking guy will use whatever he can to get you alone so he can try to convince you that he is a changed man and to take him back.”
I want to tell him that he’s wrong, but since I left, Troy has been finding reasons for me to meet up with him. The other times, I was able to avoid seeing him, but this time, I can’t just send an e-mail or make a phone call to get things sorted out.
“Fine, I’ll see if he can mail me the box,” I give in, but I know that if he says he won’t send them or can’t, I will be forced to meet up with him. I don’t have any desire to see Troy, but I do want my photos. I don’t have much from Jamie’s and my childhood, but in that box are photos of some of the better times in our lives and the few pictures of my parents I have.
“Just promise me that if you do have to meet up with him, you’ll let me know so I can go with you.” God, my brother seriously knows me so well.
“Promise,” I say as he pulls in to park in the movie theater parking lot. Once we get inside, they scan my cell for the tickets then we head to the concession stand. After we get our stuff, I stop to add extra butter to my popcorn, and a tingle hits the back of my neck. I glance around, swearing I recognize the guy from the diner before he disappears into the men’s bathroom.
“Ready?” Jamie asks, and I turn to find him carrying a drink and a few different types of candy.
“Yep.” I shake off the feeling in the pit of my stomach and head in to find our seats. Then, like always when I’m with my brother, all the drama and bullshit disappears and I just enjoy spending some time laughing with him.
Chapter 5
Dakota
“HOLD THE ELEVATOR,” I yell as I push the cart in front of me as fast as I can, blushing in embarrassment as one of the wheels squeaks obnoxiously loud. It causes people to stop what they’re doing and watch me make my way across the lobby floor toward the closing silver doors. A large, tan hand and a wrist sporting a fancy watch swings out just in time, keeping the door open. Sighing in relief, I wheel the cart into the elevator then pick up my cell phone so I can look at the e-mail Kathy sent me and confirm what floor I’m supposed to go to.
“What floor?” a gravelly voice asks, a voice that has the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as the scent of familiar dark musk wraps around me.
Lifting my eyes away from my phone, my throat closes up and my pulse quickens as I take in the imposing figure beside me. Even in my four-inch heels, his height towers over my five-six frame. His navy-blue suit does amazing things for his eyes, and the black tie around his neck screams power. Fidgeting, my eyes move up to meet his mint-green ones and I notice a familiar glimmer of desire and anger.
“What floor?” he asks again as his strong, angled jaw tics.
“Forty-seven, please,” I say quietly like I’m afraid he will attack if I speak too loud, and he might. I remember what happened the last time we were in an elevator together.
Nodding, his eyes leave mine and he presses my number then waves his wrist over the screen. The number sixty flashes briefly before disappearing, making me wonder if that’s a floor in this building, because the numbers only go up to fifty on the panel. Crossing his arms over his chest, I take in his short, dark, almost-black hair and tan skin. He’s somehow become even better looking since the last time I saw him, and that should be impossible. Then again, he also shouldn’t be here.