“Done.”
As Toren’s rental car came into view, he spotted a man leaning against it with a hat pulled down over his face. Toren stutter-stepped to a halt, and his heart ticked a few beats faster.
“Are you okay?” Eden said.
“That guy leaning against my car. I think he’s been tracking me. I think I know him from somewhere in my past. And I think I’m about to find out if I’m right.”
“You want company?”
“Sure.”
Ten yards before they reached the man, he yanked his hat off his head, grinned at Toren, and opened his arms. Once again, Toren stopped. No wonder he hadn’t recognized the guy. It had been at least fifteen years. But this close, there was little doubt. He was older, his hair cut shorter, but there was no question the person standing before him was Letto Kasper, the man who had helped him create his vows, the catalyst that thrust him into the NFL.
Letto took a few steps toward them, light on his feet. He looked lean but muscled. Toren had trained with a group of Navy SEALs one summer before training camp, and that’s exactly what Letto reminded him of. It wouldn’t surprise him to find out he’d been in some kind of Special Ops unit. Maybe still was.
“Unbelievable.”
Letto laughed, sauntered up to Toren, grabbed his shoulders, and shook them. “Look at you, man! You’re even bigger in real life than on TV.”
“And it looks like you never cracked the five-foot-eight barrier.”
“Nope, never quite got there.” Letto fixed his eyes on Eden. “Who’s your friend?”
“This is Eden Lee. Eden, this is a classmate of mine from a long time ago, Letto Kasper.”
Letto stared at Eden. “Back in those days, till the end, he would have called me more than a classmate. He would have called me a friend. But seasons change, don’t they, Toren?”
Toren leaned down and whispered in Eden’s ear, “I need to talk to him in private. Can I have a few minutes alone?”
“Take as much time as you need.” Eden handed Toren a card. “Call me in the morning, I’ll give you an answer then.”
Eden turned and strode off.
Toren faced Letto. “It was you in the landscape truck. It was you at the hotel. Outside the coffee shop.”
“I see after all these years you still enjoy stating the obvious.” Letto grinned and pointed a finger at him. “It’s been a long time. A long, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.”
“Led Zeppelin. Off their fourth album.”
“Yeah, Toro, yeah! Nicely done. You still listening to classic rock like we used to do in days way gone by?”
“Not so much anymore.”
“Pity. I have some CDs in my car. Thought we could take a drive and listen a bit.”
“Your landscape company works on my home now?”
“Not my company. I just work for that schlup, but yeah, that’s kind of crazy, don’t you think? I mean, what are the odds of me showing up at your house?”
“I don’t think you work for them. I think you were at my home for another reason.”
“Don’t get smart, Toren. Stick to the weights, okay?”
“Stay away from my family.”
“What’s your problem?”
“No problem. Unless you come onto my property again.”
“Sure, okay. Whatever.”
“Why are you stalking me?”
“Lighten up. Thought I’d have a little fun with you, play a little game, see if you could figure out it was me or not. Sounds like you didn’t. So I’m up, one to zero.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t want anything.” Letto squinted up at the sky. “Well, I guess I do want something. I want to keep the promise I made to you.”
“Promise?”
“Yes. The promise I made to you the day the music between us died.”
“Don McLean. ‘American Pie.’”
“Nailed it again.” Letto slipped his Mariners hat back on over his thick blond hair. “Two for two.”
“What promise?” Toren’s hands went to fists.
“Hey, relax, Toro. You don’t need to threaten me with your impressive-looking muscles, old friend. I’m just messing with you.” Letto thrust out his chest and bumped up against Toren. “But I don’t need to tell you what promise. You remember, don’t ya? I think you do. If you don’t, nothing to worry about, I’ll be in touch in a few days anyway—give you a reminder if you need it.”
“Why don’t you remind me now?”
“She’s really pretty, Toren. And you’ve got good-looking kids. Worth fighting for, I think.”
Toren lunged for Letto, but the smaller man skittered out of the way faster than Toren expected.
“Are you threatening my family?”
“Oh, Toren, come on, brother. Put some slack in the rope, you’re all bound up. I’m just giving you a compliment. I mean it, nice-looking family! And I hope you get ’em back. That’s all.”
Letto yanked his cap down over his eyes and backed away, a grin splashed over his face that never reached his eyes.
CHAPTER 12
Sloane stood on Main Street on Saturday night, staring at Levi Greene through the window of Aleta Restaurant and Grill, feeling guilty and scolding herself for feeling even a shred of shame. There was no reason. Toren leaves a fake suicide note, shows up again after eight months, claims to have revolutionized his life, and she’s supposed to be happy about it? Welcome him back? Sorry. She had been happy. Before he showed up. Happy with Levi, more than happy with him, in love. The past six months had made her believe she could give away her entire heart again—Levi already had more than a few pieces. And Colton and Callie seemed to really like him. She was so glad they hadn’t said anything when Toren showed up at the house the other day. That would be the definition of awkward conversation.
She shrugged off the thoughts of remorse, clipped across the street, and opened the front door of the restaurant. The scent of warm bread and olive oil spun around her, along with the clatter of knives and spoons and forks and cups. The place was busy. Typical. The mix of great atmosphere, great food, and an owner who cared was a potion richly rewarded.
Levi spotted her, and that zillion-dollar smile that had made her first notice him six months ago spread across his face. He stood as she approached, and she leaned in for a quick kiss.
“Hey, beautiful, tell me all about life since I last saw you.” He slid her coat off her shoulders and draped it over her chair, then helped scoot her in close to their table.
How long had it been since they’d been together? Five days. That was all, but it felt like an age.
She settled, and he sat back down and frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Why would anything be wrong?”
That smile again. And the eyes. Slightly green, always laughing even when he was concentrating on fixing her computer or phone or anything technical.
“I admit there isn’t any lettering on your forehead saying something is wrong, but even someone not completely taken by you could tell something strange is going on.”
“I need a glass of wine.”
“I’ve already ordered you a glass of your favorite Syrah, but I’m guessing that’s not what’s wrong.”
As if perfectly timed, their waiter appeared with two glasses of wine and showed them the bottle.
“Would you like me to pour?”
“No, thank you, we’ve got it,” Levi said and the waiter glided off.
“Question.” Sloane folded her hands on the table as he filled their glasses. “Can we not talk about what’s wrong?”
“Sure.” Levi waved his hand. “Gone.”
“Thank you.”
“I have something for you.” Levi leaned over and picked something off the floor next to him. “Care to guess?”
“Flowers.”
“Too typical. Strike one.”
“Chocolate.”
“Always enjoyable, but again, very cliché.” Levi grinn
ed. “Strike two.”
“Good point, but it doesn’t mean you can’t bring me some.”
“Noted. One more swing.”
“A new bicycle.”
“Home run.” Levi pulled what was hidden on his lap up onto the table. A cardboard box. “Well, not really, but you were so close.”
Sloane took a sip of her wine, and as she gazed at Levi, the tension of the past few days slipped away. She didn’t think about Toren or the future or anything but the kind man sitting across the table. A man who adored her. This was exactly what she needed, a distraction, a night not to think about the man she had once loved with everything inside her showing up like a ghost on her front porch and stirring up feelings she thought had died out three years ago.
“Sloane? You with me?”
“Sorry.” She gave her head a quick shake. “Just thinking.”
Levi made the motion of zipping his lips closed.
“Right, not going to talk about it, so I’m not going to think about it either.”
He handed her the box.
“Sorry I didn’t wrap it.” Levi shrugged. “But I did tape it shut, so I’m hoping that counts for at least half a point.”
“Two pieces of tape, two points.”
She smiled and opened the box. Inside was a pair of boots. The exact ones she’d spotted when they went into Seattle three weeks back. The ones she’d gushed over, but only inside her own head. She hadn’t mentioned anything to him. Unbelievable.
“How did you know?”
“Lucky guess. They’re okay?”
“I love them.” She ran a finger over the soft leather, then lifted one out to check the size. “How did you get my size right?”
“Another lucky guess.”
Two emotions exploded in her stomach simultaneously. The heady realization that she was falling deeply in love with this man, and a thick dread, knowing she had to tell him.
Their waiter strolled over and waited till they looked up.
“Have you folks had a chance to look at the menu?”
Levi motioned toward Sloane, who glanced at him, then at the waiter, then back to Levi. Then she reached into her purse, pulled out her wallet, and snatched her credit card.
“I am so sorry, but we have to leave,” she said to the waiter and handed him her card. “Please let me pay for our wine and put a little extra on there for us taking up your table and not ordering dinner.”
The waiter almost hid his frown, took the card, gave a slight bow, and shuffled off.
“I’m sorry.” Sloane slid her hand across the table, and Levi placed his hand on hers. “I have to talk to you about it right now, and that fact has kind of made my appetite disappear.”
Sloane and Levi faced each other on the sparring matt at his dojo and bowed. This was where she’d met him when he opened the school six months ago. She’d enrolled the kids here because it was more conveniently located to home than where she’d earned her black belt. In less than a month she found herself training in Levi’s advanced classes several times a week as well.
“Now this is my idea of a romantic date,” Levi said with his sly smile.
Sloane attacked first with a roundhouse kick that put Levi on his back. She straightened her gi and tugged her obi tight again.
He looked at her from the ground with a rare look of surprise on his face. “Ready to tell me what’s eating you?”
“Toren’s back.”
She wanted to watch Levi’s face as she spoke the words but instead kept her eyes down. He didn’t speak for a few seconds. Then he stood slowly and took her hand.
“I know.”
“You do?” Sloane lifted her eyes. “How?”
“He held a press conference.” Levi smiled, a puzzled look on his face. “You didn’t see it?”
“No,” Sloane said as she shook her head.
Levi ran a hand through his hair. “So is this the moment where you tell me you’re having second thoughts about us and want to have time to think about—”
“No.” She took his other hand. “This is the moment where I tell you I’m in love with you and that, yes, there are going to be some complications now that weren’t there before, but it does nothing to stop what we have going between us.”
Levi leaned in and Sloane lost herself in a long, lingering kiss.
After starting her car, Sloane glanced at the passenger seat where her phone sat facedown. Whoops. She’d forgotten to take it into the dojo with her. If the babysitter had called . . . She picked it up, turned it over. Seven missed calls. All from Toren. She sighed, but before she could check to see if he’d left a voicemail, the phone buzzed.
Toren again.
She answered, feeling annoyed. “What?”
“Where were you?”
“Out.”
“With who? Doing what?”
“I was out with Mr. None of Your Business and his friend I Don’t Have to Tell You. They both say hi.”
Toren sighed. “Sorry.”
“What do you need, Toren?”
“I just want you to be careful.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t want to scare you, but I bumped into an old friend and I saw him pulling out of our driveway the other day when I—”
“My driveway.”
“Right. Yours.” Toren paused. “And I wanted to ask about who is doing your landscaping—”
“You already asked that, remember?”
“Yeah, but this old friend of mine might be working with them, and I don’t trust the guy.”
“Toren, I’ve had the same landscaping company working on the yard for the past six months. There’ve never been any issues, nothing weird, okay? And if there ever was, I can handle myself. You know that.”
“True. I just—”
“Anything else?”
“I could have watched the kids.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time.”
“Sloane?”
“What?”
“I love you.”
“Good night, Toren.”
CHAPTER 13
For the third time in as many minutes, Toren spun and glanced behind him. And for the third time he spotted no one staring at him from the vast expanse of grass in Farrel-McWhirter Farm Park as he trudged over its lush turf. No one lurking in the shadows behind the line of Douglas fir trees that stood where the lawn met the forest with their gaze fixed on his movements. He laughed at himself. At least tried to. What was his problem?
None of the dozen people spread out on the thick grass having picnics and throwing Frisbees seemed the least interested in him—unless he counted the golden lab that cocked his head and looked quizzically in his direction each time he spun.
He glanced at his cell phone. Four minutes after one. Eden was late. Why she wanted to meet outdoors he had no idea. But when he’d called her that morning just before eight and she said she would work with him, she insisted they meet outside. Fine. He didn’t care how they got answers. He just needed to get them.
There it was again. The sensation of being watched tickled up and down his spine. He couldn’t convince his gut the feeling was irrational even though anyone with a smattering of knowledge about psychology would know there was no reason to feel this way. The perception of being watched originates from a system in the brain devoted to detecting where others are looking. It’s a kind of gaze-detection system especially sensitive to whether someone is looking directly at you or at something just over your shoulder. Yes, it even worked with peripheral vision. But a person directly behind you? Imagination only. Just fodder for those people who thrived on the paranormal and conspiracy theories. Not him.
But the feeling jabbed at the edges of his mind like an acupuncture needle, slipping past his logic. Toren concentrated, trying to picture in his mind the exact spot the feeling came from. Center of the park. No, a little left of center. Way back. It came from behind the tree line, past the swing set and near the trail that wound
deep into the woods. He closed his eyes and laughed. This was ridiculous. Who had the ability to pinpoint the spot where a nonexistent person stared at him? It was all in his head. But the image of a person who stood two hundred yards behind him, shielded between two hemlock trees, stayed burned into his mind’s eye.
Toren whirled and fixed his gaze on the spot he’d seen in his mind. Yes. There! Movement. Not shadow. A man’s body and a strange flash of silver light—there for an instant, then gone as if he knew Toren had spotted him. He kept his eyes riveted on the spot as he broke into a sprint.
He thumped across the grass as fast as he could, a breeze shoving back his thick brown hair as he concentrated on the spot where he’d seen movement. Ten yards from the tree line he slowed and peered into the woods. Nothing moved. There was no otherworldly light. But he’d seen a man and a weird light. No doubt.
Toren stepped off the lawn into the forest and made his way to the tree where he’d seen the movement. He studied the ground where the man would have stood. No indication of footprints or broken underbrush or twigs, but then again, he probably couldn’t have spotted anything even if the man weighed over four hundred pounds. Toren had been in Boy Scouts before he was old enough to be a true scout. He’d been a Webelo but hadn’t gone beyond that, so his tracking skills weren’t exactly stellar.
Toren stepped around the back of the tree, then moved toward the next Douglas fir and immediately felt stupid. A yellow Frisbee with a silver and emerald Green Dot Sub Shop logo hung on a rusty nail embedded in the tree. A breeze moved it slightly and the sunlight flashed off of it. Next to it hung a beat-up black hoodie. Mystery solved.
Toren shuffled out onto the grass and glanced around the park, not expecting to see anything unusual, and his expectations were met. His imagination had once again sprinted away and carried him with it. In spite of the evidence, he still couldn’t shake the feeling someone had been watching him.
A voice called out from his left.
“Toren!”
Eden strode toward him. Her black shoulder-length hair had been pulled back, exposing an intensity in her eyes he hadn’t seen the day before.
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