Page 66 of The Innocent

The hotel wasn’t much to brag about. It was old, dated, and just off the highway. But it was clean, the owners were sweet, and it didn’t cost her a dime. Imogene even received a small meal stipend. Though after doing some research on the tiny town, she hadn’t come across any eateries. When she’d gotten the assignment in Birch, she’d expected to be put up in the town. Nothing surprised her more than seeing her reservations for Killcreek. Her heart skipped a beat, and a tingling heat raced through her blood. It was silly. The chances of running into him were still small considering there weren’t many places to randomly bump into Jekyll. But she was holding out hope. Not that it really mattered. She’d crashed and burned during their last interaction. Making decent conversation was a challenge, and he seemed irritated with just her presence when they ran into each other. Or maybe she’d just caught him off guard.

Should I call him again?

Imogene sat on the edge of her bed staring down at the phone. It couldn’t go any worse. She could just call and ask if he had recommendations for places to eat around Killcreek. Lame. But a realistic option. She was new to the area. It was a plausible reason to connect again.

Or you could look up restaurants on the internet like normal people do.

“Shut up,” She rolled her eyes and muttered, silencing her inner voice. Sliding her thumb over the screen, she tapped her contacts list.

Zane (Jekyll) Pierce.

Imogene wasn’t looking for rational thought. She just needed a believable excuse to hear his voice again. She’d have to use the main line. When Jekyll had called her, it had been from a blocked number. She assumed it was his personal line, and disappointingly, he didn’t offer it up.

“Just do it,” she mumbled and hit the contact number, then brought the phone to her ear. When her leg began to shake, she squeezed her knee in hopes of easing her anxiety. It was just a phone call. Relax.

“Yeah?”

The gruff tone had her straightening her back and tightening her hold over her leg.

“Hi, is Jekyll there?” Her words were rushed, but at least she didn’t stutter this time.

She was off to a much better start with this second call.

“Hang on.”

She sucked in a breath as the blood rushed through her veins.

Okay, this is it. She didn’t have an exact script memorized, but she’d go with her initial reason. And maybe if he knew she was in town he’d… He’d what, invite you to dinner? Was it that far-fetched? Yes!

“He ain’t here.”

She sank into the mattress with the weight of her shoulders dragging her down. All that adrenaline built-up for nothing. She picked at the edge of the comforter.

“Oh well, thanks for checking.” She paused slightly. “Can you…”

The line went dead. Again.

Wow, that went just as well as the first time.

She glanced around the room, meshing her lips together. Crash and burn. Twice in a row. Look at me, setting records.

Her phone vibrated in her hand, and her heart skipped. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a call. It was her alarm reminding her to leave in five minutes for her meeting. She had to table her thoughts if she was going to be on time. Initially, it had been set up at the client, Shelby’s, home earlier in the afternoon, but she’d called to reschedule and change the location. It seemed a bit unorthodox to be meeting at a bar, but who was she to judge?

Imogene pulled into the lot with five minutes to spare and glanced up at the sign. It had seen better days. When she got out of her car, she scanned the parking lot. There were quite a few trucks and motorcycles. However, when she walked inside, the lot wasn’t a representation of the bar. There were only two men seated at a table in the corner. Strange.

When she locked eyes with the man behind the bar, he scowled, taking a long perusal. She didn’t usually mind men looking at her, but this guy was old enough to be her father. And there was no missing the gold band on his left hand. Though, he didn’t seem too interested or impressed. If anything, he was giving off an irritated vibe.

She lifted her hand in a short wave. “Hello.”

His brows knitted, and he squinted. “What?”

Oh.

“Um…”

“You want a drink, food, what? I don’t got all day.” He waved his hand. “And if you’re selling something, we don’t want it.”

This had to be the most hostile welcome she’d ever received at a food establishment. What the heck happened to good customer service?