by R. R. Banks
Maybe tomorrow, I'll take more open delight in Aidan decking Leon in the face. Hell, maybe I'll even laugh about it. Right now, I'm seriously pissed at how this man assumed I “needed” his protection.
“I let go of his hand,” he says. “Just like you asked me to.”
“You punched him in the nose!”
“You didn't tell me not to,” he replies calmly.
He says it with a smug, arrogant tone that I want to slap right out of him. Leon continues to roll around on the ground, howling miserably. I look over at Jake, who never moved from his spot behind the bar. At least he's not still on the phone. I shake my head and look up at Aidan.
“Maybe next time, he'll think twice about putting his hands on you,” he says.
“Maybe next time, you'll listen to me when I tell you I have it under control.”
I'm practically screaming at him, but Aidan stands there and takes it. He somehow manages to remain stoic, seemingly unaffected in the face of my wrath.
“I couldn’t sit by and watch that happen to you, Katie,” he says. “I just couldn’t.”
“I didn’t need your help, Aidan,” I seethe. “I didn't ask for it. I had it under control.”
“It didn't look that way to me.”
“Yeah well I did,” I snap.
The doors to the bar open and Sheriff Keller walks in, a deep frown on his face, looking annoyed as hell. Now, I know who Jake was on the phone with. Keller walks over and looks down at Leon, still writhing in agony on the ground. A frown pulls the corners of the Sheriff's mouth down even further.
“What the hell is going on here?” he demands.
“Nothing, Sheriff,” I say. “Just a disagreement.”
He looks from Leon to me, then over to Aidan. “One hell of a disagreement, I'd say.”
Keller is a big man and a hometown boy. Born and raised in Ashton Mill. He's probably an inch or two shorter than Aidan, but thick and brawny. He's got a small paunch beginning to form around his midsection and a little gray at the temples. He's a good-looking man, but a little too intense for my liking. He's former Army and runs the Sheriff's department like a military unit. It's not necessarily a bad thing. I mean, the police are really on top of things around here.
“This man,” Aidan says pointing at Leon, “was in the process of assaulting Katie. I stopped him.”
“Yeah, looks like you stopped him pretty good,” Keller says.
“He wasn't assaulting me,” I say.
“He grabbed her and wouldn't let go, Sheriff,” Aidan says. “He was hurting her, against her will. To me, that's assault.”
“He wasn't hurting me, and I didn't ask for your help!”
Keller turns to me, looking me up and down, then turns his eyes to Leon. I can see his contempt and disdain for the man on his face. He knows what a scumbag Leon is every bit as much as I do. And I know he believes every word coming out of Aidan's mouth.
Honestly, I don't know why I'm trying to stick up for Leon. Maybe, I don't like how Aidan stuck his nose into my business. Though, a large part of me is grateful for it. I know there was no way I could get my arm free from Leon, no matter how hard I pulled and yanked, if Aidan hadn't intervened.
When he grabbed me, all the terrible memories I'd accrued during my time with Victor came up all over again – and I was scared. Petrified. I guess the reason I'm fighting against Aidan right now is because I never want to be beholden to a man again. I never want to feel powerless like I did with Victor. I will never give up my power and control to anyone else. Ever again.
The Sheriff looks over at Danny, who's sitting at his table, his eyes so big, they might pop right out of his head. He looks like he's high on something, if you ask me.
“Danny,” Keller says. “Come get your friend and get out of here. Now.”
Danny scrambles off his stool and scurries over to Leon, helping the big man to his feet. Slinging Leon's arm around his shoulder, Danny walks him out of the bar, and quiet snickers and giggles burst from the darkened corners of the place – but only after the door closes behind them. Bunch of cowards. At least Aidan faced him straight up. I can't deny that.
Keller turns to Aidan and eyes him up and down appraisingly. “You're Anderson, yeah?”
Aidan nods. “Aidan.”
“You bought the old Wilkerson estate up in Whitetail Hollow, didn't you?”
He nods. “Yeah, that's me.”
I look over at Aidan as my eyes widen with surprise. Whitetail Hollow is an exclusive neighborhood of luxury estates scattered among the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, only affordable by the ultra-rich. The ultra-elite of society.
I've never been up there, but Jessa – my best friend and roommate – has told me all about it. From what she's said, the estates up there are huge, sprawling. Every home is a mansion that comes with huge parcels of land. It's quiet. Private. Remote. And best of all, secure.
Yeah, I wish I could afford a place of my own up there. Even though Victor is long gone, some small part of me is still afraid he's going to turn up here. Some part of me that fears he'll pop up out of nowhere like an evil Jack-in-the-Box from hell. I know it's paranoid, and that he's hundreds of miles in my rearview mirror, but given what I went through with him, I think my paranoia is a bit justified. I know what kind of man he is – and I can only hope that he's moved on and forgotten all about me.
It surprises me that Aidan lives up in the Hollow though, only because he doesn't come across as the mega-rich type to me. I've never seen him in a suit. He's always dressed in jeans and normal clothes. He's got a closely trimmed beard, and honestly, looks more of the salt-of-the-earth lumberjack type, than some corporate billionaire.
But hell, what do I know?
“Well, I'd say you taught ol' Leon a valuable lesson tonight,” Keller says. “But, I think it best if you call it a night and head on home yourself now.”
Aidan nods, and Keller turns away.
“Okay folks, show's over,” he says. “Go back to your beers and the game.”
Keller gives me one last nod before walking out of the bar, chuckling to himself as he goes. Everyone in the place continues to stare at us, and I suddenly feel very self-conscious. Jake claps his hands a few times to get everybody's attention.
“Show's over, guys!” he shouts. “C'mon, stop staring. Next round is on the house!”
That elicits some cheers, and the bar loses interest in us, turning their focus to Jake to claim their freebie – which leaves Aidan and I standing there, staring at one another as a tense, awkward silence fills the air between us. Even though nobody else seems to be paying attention to us anymore, the feeling of self-consciousness doesn't abate. If anything, with Aidan looming over me, his steely blue-grey eyes boring into my own, it only grows stronger.
I feel my pulse quicken beneath his gaze. It would be so easy to lose myself in those eyes. He's got such a strong, rugged, handsome face. Aidan tries to keep his face as neutral as possible. He’s always done his best to avoid showing any kind of emotion. But, there are cracks in that facade. And in those cracks, I notice the pain he goes to such great lengths to hide.
My thoughts and emotions are getting the best of me, and I know I need to stuff them down. Lock them away. I refuse to lose myself in another man. I won't. Clearing my throat, I summon all the anger and outrage that had infused me only moments ago. I narrow my eyes and stare daggers at Aidan.
“Sheriff Keller told you to go,” I say, appalled at the lack of conviction in my voice.
He looks at me a moment longer and then nods. “Okay. I'll leave.”
As Aidan walks back to his table to grab his jacket, a piece of me wants to tell him to stay. To talk to him. Get to know him. But, the bigger, more ruthless part of me, the part that survived Victor, shuts it down quickly.
I fold my arms over my chest and watch Aidan walk toward the door. He gives me one last, lingering look, an inscrutable expression on his face – is it longing? – before he steps out into
the night beyond.
“Wow. Sounds like you had quite a night.”
A wry grin touches my lips as I step through the front door. Jessa is sitting on the couch, book in hand, two wine glasses on the ottoman in front of her. She's been waiting for me. Obviously.
I toss my keys onto the table next to the door and hang my bag up on the rack behind it. I walk over and drop down onto the couch next to her, giving her a cheeky grin.
“I sometimes forget how fast gossip travels here,” I say.
“Nothing in this town moves faster,” she laughs.
She picks up a glass of wine and hands it to me. I take a sip, grateful to feel the tension of the night starting to slowly melt away. My shoulders and neck start to loosen up, and the pounding in my head begins to ease.
Jessa and I went to school together at Georgia for a few semesters and became fast friends. When her mom got sick, she ended up having to leave school to care for her. Her mom died about six months before I left Victor, and she offered to put me up here when I made my escape. Said it would help her out to have another person split the bills and all.
She's taking classes – online, mostly – to finish out her degree, and works at the bar when she has time. Needless to say, given her limited schedule, she doesn't make a whole lot of money, so having me here to pitch in helps keep the lights on and food in the fridge. It's a win-win situation for both of us.
“So, are you going to give me the real story?” Jessa asks. “Because, according to the grapevine, it was the second coming of the gunfight at the OK Corral down there tonight.”
I laugh. “Hardly,” I say. “It was kind of tense though, to be honest.”
“Do tell.”
I tell her the story, starting from the moment Aidan walked in until the moment he walked out. I revealed everything I was thinking and feeling. Jessa is my best friend, and we share everything with each other. It's nice that I can trust Jessa to listen, give it to me straight, and never judge me too harshly. I can always trust that she’ll tell me what's on her mind and be supportive of me.
“You realize you're being an idiot, right?” she asks and laughs. “And kind of an asshole, too.”
Jessa also never pulls her punches and won’t hesitate to tell me when I'm in the wrong.
“How am I an asshole?” I ask, so taken aback by her assessment, all I can do is laugh.
“Well, first of all, Aidan is gorgeous,” she says. “We're talking like David Beckham hot.”
“I'm not disagreeing with that,” I reply. “But, that doesn't tell me how I'm being an asshole.”
“It sounds like he was trying to protect you, duh,” Jessa says. “I mean, we all know what a piece of shit Leon is. If he was holdin' on to you like that, and you couldn't get away, it's a good thing Aidan was there to bust his face.”
“I just don't like feeling like I owe him something,” I say. “Or like I need him to protect me.”
“Honey, in this case, you did need him to protect you,” she says. “Leon's a fat ass, but he's stronger than an ox. I, for one, am glad that Aidan put him in his place. Took him down a few notches. You know that arrogant son of a bitch deserved it.”
“He did,” I admit. “I just – I dunno.”
My words fail me and I'm left sitting there, not really sure why I'm so pissed off at Aidan. I know he was only trying to help me. I needed help – I was just too afraid to ask for it. Too proud, maybe. And yet, when Aidan jumped in, although a small part of me was relieved, I still resented him for doing it.
Yeah, I've known for a while now that I'm screwed up – this only shows just how broken I really am.
“Most women would have swooned over a perfect guy coming to their rescue like that. Talk about a white knight,” she says and smiles, looking like she might swoon herself.
A rueful grin touches my lips. “Yeah, but most women haven't gone through what I have,” I say. “And, I don't know him. I know absolutely nothing about him. And neither do you, so I don't think you can say he's the perfect guy. He could be far from it.”
Jessa takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I know I haven't gone through what you have, Kat,” she says. “But, maybe this is the universe giving you a sign.”
“A sign of what?”
“That maybe, you're ready to start thinking about your future. About moving on.”
The bark of laughter that burst from my throat sounds harsh and brittle. “How do you figure?”
Jessa gives me a knowing smile. “I see that sparkle in your eye when you talk about Aidan,” she says. “You're crushin' on that man. Hard. Don't even try to deny it because I can see it.”
“Please,” I say, feeling my cheeks flare with heat. “Even if that were true – and I'm not saying it is – I don't know the first thing about this guy.”
“Oh, I do,” Jessa says brightly. “His name is Aidan Anderson, He's 32 years old, he's the President and CEO of the Southeast territory of Anderson Development Enterprises. He's worth more money than Steve Jobs, he's built like an Adonis –”
My laughter is softer and more genuine this time. “What, have you been stalking the guy?”
“No,” she replies. “But, he was a total mystery when he moved into town. His name was constantly running through the gossip mill, so I thought I'd just do a little research. He came into the bar a few times before you moved here, and I got his name off a credit card receipt and just, y'know, Googled him.”
“Light research,” I say. “In other words, you stalked him.”
“Only online,” Jessa says and laughs.
“Well, since you've already done the research, why don't you go after him?”
Jessa takes a sip of her wine and shrugs. “Oh, believe me, I tried. Threw my best Southern charm at him,” she says. “Didn't make a dent. He wasn't interested in me. Like at all. Damn it.”
“That's crazy,” I say. “You're amazing. You're everyone’s type.”
“Apparently, not Aidan Anderson’s.”
I find that hard to believe. I'm not kidding when I say that Jessa is everybody's type. She's tall, slim, with full breasts and hips – she’s a perfect example of the sweet Southern belle men have fetishized for years. She's got an accent that drips like the sweetest honey and is absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. I have no idea why Aidan wouldn't be interested in her.
“If he's not interested in you, there is no way he'd be interested in me,” I say.
“Katie, you're gorgeous –”
“I'm not fishing for compliments, Jess,” I say, meaning it – compliments have never been my thing.
“I know you're not,” she replies. “I'm just telling you how it is. You're gorgeous, and if you think otherwise, you’re an idiot. And you are very clearly, Aidan Anderson's type.”
“Right,” I say and laugh. “Clearly, you've hit the wine too hard tonight.”
“I see how he looks at you,” she says. “I've seen the way he kind of watches you – mostly when you're not at his table. Not in a creepy way or anything. He just watches you with this sweet look on his face. It’s almost – awe. He looks at you like you're some living goddess or something.”
I laugh harder and shake my head. “You're either drunk or delusional.”
She shrugs. “It's true. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”
I'm not going to lie. The idea that Aidan looks at me in a special way sends a small shiver through me. I can't pretend it doesn't. Not even to myself. He has the face and body of a model, a quiet, easy charm, and is ruggedly handsome. But, I haven't seen him look at me the way Jessa says he does. Not even once.
“I think you're mistaken,” I say. “We’ve talked a bunch of times, and he's never given me any indication he's interested.”
“Actually,” she says, “I think you're so busy protecting yourself by keeping those high, thick walls around your heart, that you don’t allow yourself to see it.”
“I don't think so,” I say.
She laughs. “Of co
urse, you don't,” she says. “But, ask yourself this – in all the time he's been coming here, have you ever seen him talk to someone else like he does with you? Anybody? Me, or any of the other girls?”
I cock my head and try to think back as far as I can, but come up empty.
“I don't know,” I finally admit. “I'm sure he has, I just don't recall.”
She shakes her head. “He hasn't. Trust me,” she says. “He'll order his drinks, but that's as far as the conversation goes. He's not mean or anything, he just makes it clear he wants to sit there and drink by himself. Except with you. When it comes to you, he seems to come alive. He actually speaks.”
I clear my throat and try to hide the grin on my face with my wine glass as I take another drink. I wasn't ready for Jessa's blunt assessment of my mental and emotional well-being, or her observations about Aidan.
“I don't know, Jess,” I say. “My head is full of bad shit right now. I can't even begin to think about any sort of romantic interest – or lack thereof. I need to get my life in order first. I want to go back to school. I want to be a marine biologist. I shouldn't be thinking about getting involved with anyone right now. Not until I get my head on straight again.”
“Oh, the interest is there alright,” she says. “But, I understand where you're coming from. I mean, I get it. I understand you're doing what you need to do, but I don't think Aidan is the bad guy here.”
I drain the last of my wine and sit back on the sofa, suddenly feeling very tired. Weary. Exhausted. All I want to do is crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and go to sleep.
“Even if you don't want to be with him romantically, you should still go apologize, you know,” she says.
“Apologize?” I ask, my eyes wide. “Apologize for what?”
She nods, a mischievous grin touching her lips. “Like I said earlier, you were kind of rude to him,” she says. “All he was trying to do –”
“Was help. Yeah, yeah, I know,” I say. “And I know he didn't deserve me lashing out at him like that. Truth be told, I feel like kind of a bitch.”
Deep down, I know she's right. A strong current of guilt flows through me for having berated him like I did. The fact that I’m a screwed-up mess isn't his fault. He was only trying to help. I also know that Jess is right – a lot of women would love to be saved by an act of chivalry like that.