*****
Quinn sat in his usual place at the Leesburg Starbucks and stared out the window. It had become a ritual, this stop, and he knew it was a bad idea. Starbucks was a giant pit that he threw money into. He could have purchased a coffee maker—it might have even produced better coffee—but somehow coming here made him feel better. Maybe it made him feel less alone.
He picked through the main section of The Washington Post, waiting for something to catch his eye. But aside from the usual political scandals, the various fights in Congress and the inevitable crime stories, there was little to be found. Certainly nothing distracting.
And then she walked in. Quinn felt the cool draft sweep by him as the door swung open and then shut. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her blonde hair flip off her shoulder—the result of a casual toss of her head. Her hair just brushed her shoulders and curled a little in various directions. It was simple, yet elegant, like her khaki slacks and white blouse.
By now, Quinn was staring shamelessly. No doubt, she was beautiful. Petite and graceful, roughly his age, with delicate hands as she counted out her money for the cashier. But she was compelling in a way Quinn could not begin to explain.
When she turned to find a seat, Quinn almost caught his breath as he saw her bright blue eyes. With great effort, he stopped staring, but continued to steal glances as she stretched out in an armchair to read the paper.
He had never been so drawn to a stranger before, nor so observant of her every detail. Her silver earrings, the way her fingers rested on her eyebrow as she read.
He shook his head. This was stupid. It was nothing more than a reaction to two dateless years and too much time spent around women who were too old to court. It was a new face, that was all, he told himself. A new face with a great looking body.
Suddenly she caught him watching her. But like a child caught staring, he couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t. They held each other’s gaze for a moment and then she looked back down at her paper—his paper, his employer in fact. After a while she got up and barely looked his way as she left the Starbucks.
When she was gone, he let out a large sigh, like he had been holding his breath the whole time. What was his problem?
She would be gone now, he thought. If there was destiny involved, surely it had just slapped him in the face and passed him by.
He tossed the paper in a recycling bin and left the shop.
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (Free edition, with exclusive excerpt from A Soul to Steal) Page 6