"Zander," was all he said.
If my throat hadn't been hurting so bad, I would've laughed at his lack of a real answer. The whole thing was surreal and all I really wanted to do was wake up in my bed with a book lying open on my chest and my son pressed up against my side as he slept.
"Where's Pete?" I asked. The man was only a handful of inches from me, so I could see that he wasn't reacting with any kind of concern to the gun I had trained on him. Maybe he was so comfortable because he knew he could disarm me. Or maybe he thought after taking shots at Ted's privates that I wouldn't pull the trigger again. If it had been a normal night, maybe that would've been true. But nothing about tonight had been normal. Nothing about being in this place, in this situation, was normal for me—boring, frumpy, starting-to-show-her-age me.
"In bed, I imagine," the stranger responded. No, Zander… his name was Zander.
Good Lord, Jolene, what are you doing?
It was a good question. One I didn't have an answer for. The last thing I should be thinking about was the guy’s name.
"That doesn't answer my question. Who are you?"
The man had the audacity to climb to his feet without asking me if it was okay first. So yeah, he wasn't the least bit worried about the gun.
"I'm helping Pete out for a few days," Zander responded. He was silent for a moment and then added, "Jolene." I’d heard my own name said in dozens of ways and by countless people in my lifetime, but I could honestly say that the way Zander said it was different… very different. In fact, it almost sounded like… like… like a caress. I felt an uncomfortable tightening in my belly as heat snaked throughout my entire body. The sensation was unfamiliar, but I wasn't completely clueless. But the idea that I could be attracted to this guy was ridiculous and I attributed my physical reaction to the toll the evening’s events had taken on me.
"What do you mean you're helping him out?" I asked. I still had the gun on Zander, but he didn't pay it any attention as he turned around and took a few steps away from me. I watched in surprise as he lifted my purse off the ground. When he started grabbing the contents that had spilled out of the bag during my effort to remove the gun, I practically yelled, "Leave that!"
He didn't, of course, and when he got the last item, it was all I could do to not groan in embarrassment as I saw what it was.
Zander took his time studying the object in his hand. I should've used the opportunity to scramble to my feet, but my brain had decided now was a good time to take in the man's broad back, tapered waist, and tight…
"Pete needed some help, he asked me, I agreed."
My eyes were still on Zander's backside when he turned around. My addled mind had managed to grasp the fact that he'd spoken, but it was failing to tell my eyes to look anywhere but straight ahead of me. That meant that a good fifteen seconds went by before the man had to clear his throat to actually get my attention.
"What?" I asked, completely lost. I'd even lowered the gun so it was pointed at the ground. I didn't bother raising it again because I figured the guy had had plenty of opportunities to disarm me… like while I'd been staring at his gorgeous ass.
I mentally berated myself for both the inappropriate thoughts and using the word "ass" to describe that part of his anatomy. I could practically hear my mom laying into me not only for screwing things up with Ted, but for my vulgarity.
"I didn't know Pete was hiring," I murmured for lack of anything better to say.
"He's not," Zander said. He suddenly reached his hand out to me. Before I could think better of it, I handed him the gun. Only after I put it in his hand did I wonder why I’d done that. It was my gun. And while I didn't think I was in any danger anymore, I couldn’t say that I was one hundred percent sure. And I’d just given up the only protection I'd had going for me. What in the world had I been thinking?
You know what you were thinking.
"Shut up," I muttered under my breath. My inner voice really could be a bitch sometimes.
"Did you say something?" Zander asked.
God, kill me now.
This time I said the words silently to myself and just shook my head in response to the man standing over me. I expected him to put my gun in his pocket or his waistband or somewhere else on his person, so I was caught off guard when he tucked it into my purse. Then he was reaching his hand out again and I realized it was because he wanted to help me up. Holy hell, had that been the reason he’d put his hand out in the first place?