The Boy from the Woods(57)

“Good night, Hester.”

“Good night, Oren.”

“Can I ask you out again?”

She bit back several snappy rejoinders and went with, “Yes. I’d really like that.”

Oren waited until she was inside the apartment. Hester gave him a smile as she closed the door. Then, alone, she broke into a little happy dance. She couldn’t help herself. She felt both flighty and a fool. She got ready for bed in a daze. Sleep, she was sure, would not come, but it had, quickly, the adrenaline rush leaving her spent and exhausted. She slept, in fact, beautifully.

Now, this morning, Hester was left with the flutters. Just that. The flutters. Last night now felt surreal, like a dream, and she wasn’t sure whether this feeling was something she longed for or something she feared. Did she need this in her life? She was content already, satisfied in both personal life and career. Why risk it? It wasn’t just a question of being too old for such immature emotions. She was set in her ways now. She liked being set in her ways. Did she really want something like this upending everything? Did she want to risk hurt or embarrassment or any of the millions of things that could and probably would go wrong?

Life was good, wasn’t it?

She reached for her phone and saw a message from Oren:

Too soon to text? I don’t want to look desperate.



Swoon. Swoon all over again.

She typed back: Stalker.

She saw the three dots signaling he was writing her back. Then the three dots vanished. She waited. No reply. She felt a brief surge of panic.

I was kidding! No, it’s not too soon!



No reply.

Oren?



This was exactly what she meant—who wanted to feel this way? Who wanted their heart in their throat and to be worried that maybe she did the wrong thing or that maybe this was just a game to him and hey, it was only one date and one kiss (The Kiss) so calm the F down already.

Her phone rang. She hoped that it was Oren, but the caller ID displayed another number she recognized. She pressed answer and put the phone to her ear.

“Wilde?”

“I need your help.”

*



Wilde stepped into view by the Ecocapsule. He held his phone in the air.

Gavin Chambers frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m on a live video call,” Wilde said.

“With who?”

“Whom,” a female voice coming from the phone said. “With whom. Prepositional phrase, sweet stuff.”

Wilde continued to walk toward Gavin. Gavin squinted at the screen.

“Hi, Gavin. My name is Hester Crimstein. We met once at a dinner party at Henry Kissinger’s.”

Gavin Chambers glanced up at Wilde as if to say, Really?

“Don’t make that face, bubbalah,” Hester said. “I’m recording all this. Do you understand?”

Gavin closed his eyes and let loose a long sigh. “For real?”

“No, for fake. I want you to know that if anything happens to Wilde—”

“Nothing is going to happen to him.”

“Cool, handsome, then we’ll have no issue.”

“This isn’t necessary.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not, but when you have a dozen armed men sneak up on my client’s home—a home which you subsequently threatened to destroy—label me paranoid, but as his attorney—and just to make it clear for the record, I am your attorney, correct, Wilde?”

“Correct,” Wilde said.

“So as his attorney, I want this on the record. You, Colonel Chambers, approached my client’s home with armed men—”

“This is public land.”

“Colonel Chambers, do you really want to spend time arguing detailed legalese with me?”

Gavin sighed. “No, I do not.”

“Because I can do that. I’m not in a rush. Are you in a rush, Wilde?”

“I got all day,” Wilde said.

“Fine, sorry,” Gavin said, “no legalese, let’s move on.”

“Now what was I saying?” Hester continued. “Right, you approached my client’s home with armed men. You threatened to break into said home and even destroy it. Don’t roll your eyes. Me, I would have you arrested, but my client, against my high-priced advice, is still willing to talk to you. He seems to have what I would consider badly placed trust in you. I will honor his wants while also making our position on this clear: If Wilde is harmed in any way—”

“He won’t be harmed.”

“Shush, you, listen. If he’s harmed or held against his will, if I call him back and cannot reach him or you do anything other than what he requests, I will become a permanent part of your life, Colonel Chambers. Like shingles. Or piles. Only worse. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Wilde?”

“Thanks, Hester. Okay to disconnect?”

“That’s up to you,” she said.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He hit a button and slipped the phone into his pocket.

Gavin Chambers frowned. “You called your mommy?”

“Wow, now you’ve hurt my feelings.”

“What I wanted to tell you was supposed to be in complete confidence.”