“Could’ve. Didn’t.” He smirked, ignoring her clipped tone, and extended his elbow. She ignored that.
“See you tomorrow, Roger.” She blew past Wilder and got into the SUV.
“What’s with you?” he asked, as he buckled up.
“What was with the primitive man ritual back there? You all but urinated on me.”
Wilder hooted. “If only I’d been feeling the urge.”
“Not funny. Wilder, let me be clear. I appreciate your thoroughness—”
“Almost thoroughness... I didn’t actually relieve myself on your leg.” His smile was smug, but disarming. He was good at that—and at getting his way. Not on this.
“But thoroughness doesn’t mean having possession of me. Picking me up is one thing. Walking in and hovering over me is another, especially when I told you to wait. I’m not an object. I’m a person.”
“Cosette is a human. Noted.” His jaw pulsed once...twice. Great. But he needed to understand boundaries, and even in protecting her, there were some. There had to be—she needed them. She’d been bullied by too many men in her life and for too long.
“I’m not trying to be cold or ungrateful, Wilder...” And she definitely hadn’t meant to make him mad, but this conversation was necessary and she was stressed. She sighed. “I got another ‘gift’ today.”
* * *
Wilder whipped into a parking space and ushered Cosette inside Sufficient Grounds 2.0. The smell of coffee and cinnamon did nothing for his stomach. Had this Levitts guy gotten into her office? How? And could he even inquire? Cosette had thrown up a barrier. Put him at arm’s length, where he’d been keeping her. Tables turned felt crummy.
Maybe he had sized up the dude in the bow tie who’d been falling all over her. Everyone was a suspect.
Except that wasn’t true.
Something about the way they’d interacted—comfortably—sent Wilder swimming in an ocean of green. He’d reacted. Bounded in and all but staked a claim on a woman he had no right to. A woman who didn’t want to be claimed. He had to respect her wishes—her boundaries. He could do that without it interfering with his duty to protect her. At least, that’s what his head said. His heart was itching like it’d been dragged through a patch of poison ivy. Where was the emotional cortisone when a man needed it?
He glanced up at Amy and lifted two fingers, then pointed to Cosette. Amy nodded and went to work on their coffees. Cosette took a table away from the window. Completely out of character, but if she felt she was being watched, which was likely, then he understood her need for a barrier. Just couldn’t be Wilder. She’d rather have brick and mortar.
“Can I see the contents of the envelope?” he asked. Cosette handed him the envelope and he perused them. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. “What’s your initial feeling about this?” Because his was screaming all kinds of bad.
Amy brought them their coffees—chicory for Cosette and a café mocha for him. Real men didn’t shy away from handcrafted drinks. They savored them. That was his story and he was sticking to it. She also placed a huge banana-nut muffin in front of Cosette.
“Just a little splurge,” Amy said. “Oh, and the ice-skating with Wheezer the other night... I have bruises in so many places.”
Cosette chuckled and discreetly pushed the plate with the muffin toward Wilder. Cosette had severe nut allergies but was too polite to convey the information to Amy or to stay away from the café. The coffee was too delicious. Wilder would have just said, “No can do. I could die,” and sent it back. But that was Cosette. Considerate to the core.
Cosette grinned at Amy. “I’d say ice them, but that seems wrong, doesn’t it?”
“It totally does.” She glanced at the counter. “Duty calls.” She breezed off. “I’ll be by CCM tonight.”
Wilder rolled his eyes. “Remember when Wheezer didn’t have a girlfriend who holed up in the control room with him every waking moment she had free?” He wolfed down the muffin. “I just saved your life by eating this,” he teased.
“I have an EpiPen.” Cosette snorted. “And I think it’s healthy for Wheezer to be involved with more than his dozen computer screens. He needs sunshine and happiness...a life outside of work.”
Didn’t they all?
“You asked about my initial feeling over this. At first, I thought Jeffrey had somehow gotten into my office, but it doesn’t fit. Why two tickets? He’d want me all to himself.”
Wilder was by no means a stalker, but he could relate to wanting Cosette all to himself. He had to push those feelings down deep. Bury them. “You think it was a legit gift? Like an act of kindness from someone who knows you might need a night out?”
“People buy dinners and coffee for others all the time. What’s the verse about not letting the right hand know what the left hand is doing?” Cosette wiggled her hands. Slender fingers. No polish on her nails. She saved all that color for her lips. “I could use a night out. Maybe God is gifting me a break.”
Wilder didn’t think this gift was from God. Instinct said it was a threat tied with a nice little bow. “Who are you going to ask to go with you?” he asked.
She wanted space. No hovering. She could take whoever she wanted. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t be there watching in obscurity, standing guard. And he wouldn’t tell her because it did half sound like a stalker to someone who’d been stalked before. But she had never let someone down and been responsible for the loss of their life. Cosette didn’t understand that in one moment this crazy man could have her in his clutches. Wilder’s gut was on fire.
He had no choice but to hover in order to stop this killer from getting to Cosette.
And what he hadn’t told her, due to the stress and fear she was already enduring, was that if Jeffrey was as cunning as she said, he might be baiting her. Making her feel there was safety in this gift—that it was a coworker’s random act of kindness, when in fact he was positioning Cosette exactly where he wanted her to be.
But Wilder would be there, too. By her side or in the shadows.
Cosette paused midsip. “You’re not going to make that choice for me?”
“Cosette is human, remember? Wilder is not allowed to hover. I’m keeping within the boundaries.”
An unladylike snort left her nostrils. “You’re pacifying me. You and I both know you’ll be there. In the background.”
Wilder wouldn’t get anything past Cosette. He rarely could and he kind of admired that. “But not hovering. You specifically said ‘hover,’ not lurk.”
“I already feel like I’m being watched, spied on. I’d rather not add one more to the mix. How do you feel about Cary Grant?”
“Who?”
“Fabulous.” She groaned and drained her coffee. “Leave it to you not to know one of the most iconic Hollywood actors in history.” She pushed her cup away. “You wanna be my non-date-date?”
No. He wanted to be her date. So much for pushing down feelings. “That sounds so...mean. How about I be your escort for the night?”
“I never thought I’d have to enlist CCM’s services.”
Wilder never thought he’d be taking Cosette out on a date, even a non-date-date. He might have bitten off more than he could chew. But the seriousness of the situation washed over him, curdling the banana-nut muffin in his gut.
Cosette might be walking into a trap.
And the only way to catch this twisted stalker might be to let her.