Chased by a Stranger (Craved Series #3) Page 3

  Sure my life was up in the air at the moment. And no one would accuse me of being organized or having it all figured out, but that’s only cause I had no reason to get my shit straight before.

  If I had a reason to invest my money better, a reason to get a better place, a reason to travel more- to work more- I would do it. Of course I would. It’s not like I was some kind of bum. Well, okay, I was a complete bum, but only because I could afford to be.

  Truthfully, my only real problem was how bad it hurt to know she wasn’t really mine, that I couldn’t make her mine, and that she probably didn’t want to be mine. Still, thinking about her filled me with a sense of hope for the future I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Unfortunately, when reality settled in, I remembered that tomorrow morning she would be headed back to Seattle and I felt dejected again.

  She would be fine, of course. She would get a new job, and soon someone else would catch her eye and she would forget all about me.

  But the thought of that made me feel sick. The thought of her going out and smiling over the table at some schmuck who could never give her what I could made me feel so frustrated it was crazy.

  And it’s not even like she was my fucking soul mate.

  But what if she was?

  The only way of knowing was to keep seeing her. It’s not like I couldn’t afford it. Hell, my Mom would probably love to meet up if I had a reason to swing by the west coast more often.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple.

  On one hand, there was something pure and wonderful about having such a short, perfect relationship, a relationship where no one got ugly or complacent or took the other for granted or decided they would rather fake a headache than fuck.

  Cause that was reality.

  Even the most solid couples- the ones who enjoyed the truest love- eventually made it through the honeymoon period to the bathroom door open stage where maintaining the fiery chemistry that existed in the beginning became a challenge.

  And I wasn’t sure if we really wanted that, if we were even capable of it. Sure, it could happen. It happened all the time to the “luckiest” couples because they reached a point where embracing the less glamorous side of maturing love seemed better than losing the person.

  But at this point, Audrey and I had both made a perfect impression on each other. Our memories of one another were totally pure and good, and I have to admit that I liked the idea of her having an inflated, complimentary perception of me.

  Cause the chances that we were meant to be were pretty slim. Frankly, I wasn’t even sure I believed in soul mates. I’d met people who were well suited, sure, but fate was an altogether different question.

  Was it convenient and serendipitous that Audrey came into my life the way she had? Yes.

  Was she just as lucky that I showed up when I did? Certainly.

  But did that mean we should push our luck? That we should try and twist this thing into something other than what it already was?

  What if we weren’t meant to be?

  If that were the case, then the relationship would run its course and when it ultimately ended, at least one of us would be bitter or disappointed. Or one of us would feel misrepresented or wrong or inadequate or one of the countless other ugly emotions that hadn’t had cause to rear their ugly heads into our relationship up to this point.

  Then, instead of Jack Quinn the handsome doctor who fucked my brains out, I’d end up being that douchebag whose name shall not be spoken. It was inevitable. The list of exes I had that I was still on good terms with was nonexistent.

  Personally, I blamed their unrealistic expectations and the fact that their noses were so stuck up it was like we weren’t even breathing the same air, but I’m sure they’d all have similarly flattering comments to make about me… probably starting with my control issues and ending somewhere with my screwed up family priorities and my obsession with exercise.

  But that was the past.

  And what mattered was whether Audrey was the future.

  Obviously, the last thing I wanted was for things to go sour between us or to scare her off. Then again, she was leaving either way.

  The worst that could happen would be if she said she didn’t feel the same way, that it was just sex for her and I shouldn’t bother calling.

  Or was it?

  Maybe the worst thing would be if I let her get away without knowing where she stood?

  After all, I was a doctor. Based solely on the symptoms she’d displayed in the last forty eight hours, there was a chance that she had real feelings for me.

  And I had to know.

  I couldn’t leave it to chance.

  I was lucky enough that chance brought us together, but I had to take this into my own hands. Tonight.

  Or I could risk losing her forever.

  And then I’d be right back where I started.

  Except things would be worse.

  Cause I’d know she was out there and that I let her slip away.

  Chapter 6: Audrey

  We drank our way through a whole bottle of wine and Jack still hadn’t turned up. I was doing my best not to look at the clock and then the door and then the clock and then the door, but I’m sure I was doing a pretty shit job of it.

  Meanwhile, Megan was bending over backwards to keep the conversation light, avoiding the subject of Jack’s tardiness as best she could, but his empty seat beside me was so painfully obvious there might as well have been a spotlight over it.

  To make matters worse, I sensed that Megan and Matteo wanted to be pawing at each other but were trying to keep their hands to themselves so I wouldn’t feel even more awkward, which was only making the tension at the table more palpable.

  “I don’t know about you guys,” I said finally, “but I’m starving.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wait a little longer?” Megan said. “There’s no rush.”

  “Not at all,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll understand if we get started.”

  Matteo was visibly relieved and immediately ordered half a dozen seafood plates to share and another bottle of white wine.

  I pushed the thought that Jack might not be coming at all out of my mind. After the morning we had, surely he would show up.

  I looked down at my lap and pressed my hands down on my folded napkin. They were the same hands Jack had pinned about my head on the rooftop, the same hands that had stroked him into submission earlier that day.

  So why wasn’t he there?

  I was doing my best not to pout but I couldn’t see how my big blow off wasn’t affecting Megan’s last meal with Matteo. By the time the mains arrived, I felt sick, and I was sure I couldn’t be any more embarrassed.

  Until the waiter asked if he could take Jack’s empty chair to another table at which point I insisted they take the place setting, too.

  I felt absolutely ridiculous. It was like I was all dressed up for the ball and prince charming was nowhere to be seen. I’d labored over my hair and makeup and shaved and buffed my body to a high sheen. I even let Megan convince me to wear a new dress she bought that day that had a plunging neckline that- at least when I’d first tried it on- made me feel up for anything.

  Even Matteo went out of his way to tell me I looked beautiful, going so far as to say that even if my date was a doctor, he couldn’t have been that smart if he would stand up such a beautiful woman.

  At that point, Megan elbowed him and smiled at me apologetically.

  That’s when I decided I needed to excuse myself.

  After all, feeling sorry for myself was one thing, but being pitied by my best friend and a man I didn’t even know was too much. I had to get out of there before my hurt turned to bitterness and I really spoiled their evening.

  Just because I was upset enough to have a complete breakdown didn’t mean Megan shouldn’t have a good time. Besides, the gorgeous seafood spread just reminded me of my first date with Jack, essentially spoiling my appetite entirely.


  “I have a bit of a headache, guys,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table. I stood up and plucked my purse from where it was hanging on the back of my chair. “I think I’m going to go back to the room and lie down for a while.”

  “You don’t want to at least stay for dessert?” Megan asked. “They’ve got an amazing collection of sorbets. I think you’d really enjoy th-”

  “No, thanks,” I said. Normally, skipping an opportunity to eat ice cream was against everything I believed in, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get the hell out of there more than anything. “You guys have some for me.”

  Matteo stood and walked over to me, giving me a kiss on both cheeks. It was everything I could do not to crumble in his arms.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you,” he said.

  “You too, Matteo,” I said, forcing a smile. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  I couldn’t even look at Megan when I walked out. I was afraid if I did she would know I was two seconds away from bursting into tears.

  The deflation I felt as I made my way back to the room was greater than any I’d felt since I was a teenager. It reminded me of that time I was late for dance lessons in eighth grade and had to dance with one of the adult chaperones. It was so humiliating I could taste it.

  And even though all my peers couldn’t see me now, getting stood up by a handsome doctor on what I hoped would be the best night of the holiday yet, it was worse somehow.

  Perhaps because my hopes for this evening were so much higher than they ever were for dance lessons.

  And I wanted Jack to show up more than I ever wanted a certain boy to pick me. I mean, it was one thing to not get picked when you didn’t have your heart set on someone, but when you did and he didn’t come through… ugh. I felt like I was drowning.

  When I got back to the room, I pushed the door closed and leaned against it. Across the room I could see the mirror where I watched Jack’s head moving between my legs, watched as my cheeks went pink and my lips fell apart.

  I turned my head towards the digital clock across the room. It was after nine. I had officially been stood up. I slumped against the floor and dropped my head on my knees.

  Maybe I dodged a bullet. Honestly, if all Jack wanted was another notch on his bedpost, he certainly got it. And if that’s all he was after, perhaps he was right not to mislead me by going on another date and making small talk with people whose company he hadn’t chosen.

  Or maybe I just screwed everything up again. It could’ve been the sketch. He might have been totally wigged out by it.

  Why had I left it on the nightstand in the first place like an idiot? Would it really have been so hard to put it away? But I couldn’t have known he would look at it. Or that things would escalate like that after the massage.

  I dragged the back of my fingers under my eyes to keep the tears from falling out and making me look as messy as I felt.

  What was wrong with me? Why did I keep picking these guys who didn’t give a shit? Did I need counseling or something? Did I have “sucker” tattooed across my forehead?

  And more importantly, was my wholehearted attempt at fun, meaningless sex not as good as I thought it was? Was two fucks really enough to put him off me?

  Shit.

  If only he’d called. Not that he had a number.

  And he certainly wouldn’t be getting one now.

  Fuck him.

  Fuck him like he fucked me.

  I was better off without him.

  Wasn’t I?

  Sure, I’d let fucking a hot doctor go straight to my head in just a few days. But he didn’t owe me an explanation. He didn’t owe me anything.

  He stuck to his oath.

  He fixed my foot.

  And if I ever saw him again, I’d know right where to stick it.

  Chapter 7: Jack

  I was locking the door to my apartment when I got the call.

  Tip was so frantic I could barely tell what she was saying as she went in and out of hysterical Thai mixed with sobbing.

  “Where are you?” I repeated over and over.

  Finally, I got an intersection out of her. I looked at my watch. I was going to be early for the date anyway, and I couldn’t leave Tip in the lurch. I pulled my keys out of my pocket and ran down the stairs for my bike.

  But it was gone.

  That’s when I realized something was seriously wrong.

  I ran to the street and flagged down the first tuk-tuk I could find. I didn’t haggle. In fact, I said I would pay even more than he asked if he could get me there fast.

  My heart was racing as he rounded every corner, my hands gripping the sides of the little blue cart so I wouldn’t fly out into traffic.

  As we approached the intersection, I noticed there was a buildup of cars. I shoved some money at the driver and got out, running on foot through the traffic as cars inched by and mopeds weaved through the standstill.

  The first thing I saw was the mangos. They were everywhere. The yellow and green fruit was rolling all over the highway beside a cart that was completely overturned.

  That’s when I saw Tip, bleeding from the face as she squatted down on the other side of the cart.

  I tried to call her name but nothing came out of my mouth.

  Fortunately, my feet took over and I was soon at her side.

  She was crying, her tears mixing with the blood running down her cheeks.

  My eyes followed her narrow wrist to the hand she was holding. “Dad!” I knelt down in the dirt. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded.

  “Can you talk?”

  He blinked and wheezed.

  I stood up and lifted the wooden fruit stand off his lower body. Most of it came away in pieces, some of them falling back down on his legs.

  Which were still straddling my bike.

  My heart sank.

  I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to know what right he thought he had to drive my bike. I never even told him where the spare keys were. Sure, I’d hidden them in his apartment, but he had no right.

  “Did you call an ambulance?” I said, kneeling back down beside them.

  “Yes,” Tip said.

  A moment later, I heard the sirens in the distance. “Is anyone else hurt?” I asked, grabbing Tip’s face in my hands. Her wounds were only superficial, a few cuts around her eyes and hairline. She’d have to be checked more thoroughly, but as long as I could keep her conscious, I was confident she would be okay.

  “Dad,” I said, looking at his leg crushed under the bike. Well, I wasn’t sure if it was crushed, but I didn’t want to lift the bike yet, not without medical assistance on hand in case he passed out from the pain or tried to bleed out on me.

  “Jack,” he wheezed.

  I was so relieved to hear him speak I nearly cried.

  “Where is the mango seller?” I asked Tip without looking at her.

  “He went for help,” she said.

  I could smell the familiar scent of booze off my Dad’s breath. It was impossible to tell how much of his condition was a result of the accident and how much was from his blood alcohol level. “What happened?”

  Tip didn’t answer.

  I looked at her. She was shaking her head, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at my Dad.

  “Tip!” I said loudly. I knew yelling at her might make her feel worse, but I had to know. I could hear the police sirens coming, and I didn’t want to have to get my information from them later.

  “We were going to the night market,” she said. “For dinner.”

  “How drunk was he?”

  “Not bad,” she said. “Better than normal.”

  “Why did you get on the bike with him?”

  She shrugged. “I needed a ride. He seemed excited, and it’s not far so I said okay.”

  I shook my head and looked back at my Dad. His eyes were on me and I was relieved to see so much pain in his face, relieved he could feel where he was hurt.

  “I don�
��t know if I can bail you out of this one,” I said, hanging my head.

  “How’s the bike look?” he asked, not looking down.

  “It looks like that was its last ride so I hope it was a good one.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  I sighed. It was too late for sorrys. I didn’t know what to say or think. Depending on his injuries, he’d either be going to the hospital or he’d be going to jail. Part of me wished they’d take him to jail. At least then I’d know he would stay put. Cause I wasn’t fucking bailing him out. Not this time. Not for twenty thousand baht when he was drunk driving. I’d fucking leave him in there for a month. In fact, maybe I should ask the cops if that was an option. I bet for the right price they would keep him there.

  I heard footsteps and looked up to see several officers in blue uniforms running towards us. Then I looked towards the road. There was a pile of orange flowers littering the road side. I recognized the strands as the ones people bought for good luck to hang on their rearview mirrors. Apparently, someone had thrown one towards us as they passed by and others had followed suit.

  Despite my heightened anxiety, I was momentarily moved by the show of support.

  But I was interrupted a moment later when the police began speaking rapid Thai.

  Tip stood up and spoke with them. I took my Dad’s hand when she let go. Behind the cops, I could see two men running towards us with a stretcher. “It’s your lucky day, Dad,” I said under my breath.

  A paramedic came up to Tip and took her by the arm.