Those Three Words: A Single Dad, Billionaire Boss Romance(86)

I start reading before the train is even done boarding and don’t take notice of the other passengers around me. I’m too lost in the story of poor girl Ann Cummings and her prince William Shotright. As I make my way through the story, I can’t figure out why I’m so distracted. Maybe I’m just still feeling uneasy about the amount of missed calls and texts from Penn. I look away from my book to inspect the faces of everyone around me. I scoot to the edge of the seat, glancing at the people on the train. That’s when my eyes land on the man I’ve been seeing a lot lately.

I grip the book a little tighter as I peer around the page at him. He has dark stubble growing across his chin and jaw. His hat is pulled down low over his brow so I can’t see his eyes. I’m not a paranoid person but something is off about this guy. He appeared basically out of thin air a few weeks ago and has been riding my train every day since. I know he very well could be new to the area or got a new job around here, but he doesn’t get off at the same stop every day and that little voice inside my head is sounding off alarms. This might sound silly but when you ride the same damn train every weekday for three years, you get to know your train mates.

The whole time I’m looking at him, his gaze is focused on the window, seemingly unfazed by my gawking. When I turn away, it feels like he’s looking at me again but I tell myself to stop. I open my book and do my best to focus all my attention on the story. When the train begins to approach my stop, I put my book away and get ready to get off. I turn my attention back to the guy and it’s like the moment I look at him, he looks away. I even see his hair move from the quick action.

The train stops and I’m more than happy to get off. I hike my bag up on my shoulder and make my way toward the exit with a dozen other people. I start making my way away from the train station and in the direction of the office. It’s only three blocks and I walk it every morning and evening. I usually enjoy the walk, but today, my paranoia is on overdrive and I feel like I’m being followed. This is a new development. I’ve seen the guy quite a few times lately and he’s always given me an uneasy feeling, but I’ve never felt that he’d follow me.

I try to think back over the past few weeks to remember how many days I’ve seen that man so close to me. He always gets on at my stop, but I’ve never noticed him get off when I do. I try to figure out if he’s on the train when I get on in the evening, but I don’t remember if he’s already on or if he gets on with or after me. I pick up the pace and walk a little quicker. Rounding a corner, I decide to look back. When I do, I see the man, walking in the same direction I was headed before I turned the corner. This is the first time he’s ever gotten off at my stop. This makes my heart race and I push myself to go faster.

I don’t look back again until I’m walking up the sidewalk to the office. When I do, I see a whole sea of people but don’t zero in on his face even though I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still there. I walk up the steps to the building and before I walk through, I turn back one last time. I scan the crowd in front of me. I catch a glimpse of something out the corner of my eye and I turn my head in that direction. In a café across the street, there is a man with the same colored hat pulled down low. It’s too far away for me to see the man clearly, but it feels like he’s watching me. A chill races up my spine as I turn and rush into the building.

I feel out of body as I make my way to the elevator.

“Morning, beautiful.” Bob gives me his usual greeting with a head nod, but I’m too lost in thought to return the greeting which isn’t like me at all. I avoid unwanted conversations on my way to my office, and when I reach my office my assistant, Julie, is there waiting with my cup of coffee. I take it even though I have one in my hand.

“Thank you,” I tell her, practically flying by her.

She follows me into my office. “Either you’ve already had way too much coffee today or something is wrong.” She puts her hand on her jutted-out hip.

I fake a smile and a nervous laugh slips out. “I’m fine. Just excited to start the day. And maybe I’ve had a little too much coffee,” I say, holding up my hand and showing her a little bit with my thumb and forefinger while I wrinkle my nose.

She laughs and shakes her head, causing her shoulder-length red hair to bounce with the action. “I left your messages and appointments on your desk. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you. I’ll be just fine,” I say, urging her out the door. She walks out and I close it behind her, leaning my back against it. I feel like I can finally breathe, like nobody is watching me or following me. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly while closing my eyes and resting my head back against the wood.

Taking my seat behind my desk, I turn on my phone and remember to charge it. I start up my computer and start sorting through emails and replying as needed. I have a few questions to answer in response to the recent rumor that Mr. Carmichael is thinking of selling the company which isn’t true at all. How these rumors get started is beyond me. I give a typical response stating that the rumor isn’t true and the company is doing better than ever and that people can start watching for the amazing things to come, and I send the email back to the reporter at The Business Blog website.

After I send the email, I gather my things and head out to my first meeting of the day. I have to prep the new interns on how to respond to questions that may be coming their way on future press releases. It’s all typical and boring and something I have to do every six months when we bring on another round of new interns.