Rex had asked me to stop by the bar around five thirty before heading to Ellen’s to pick up Beefcake. Trey was meeting him at six. That gave me an hour and a half before I had to leave.
A hot shower made me feel less icky. I put up my hair and styled it as best as I could. Rex would get a kick out of the new fringe.
With one longing glance at my bed—I wouldn’t mind getting in there and never leaving—I trudged down the steps, slipped on my brown corduroy jacket and a gray scarf, jammed my wallet in my back pocket, and headed out into the early evening. The air was brisk, and the sky was clear. It was my favorite time of year in my favorite city.
I was where I should be, but I didn’t feel it. It was almost like watching someone else act out the role of Xanthe Malcolm.
Wurther’s was our local pub. Rex had been bartending there for a long time. When he worked nights, Jaime, Ricki, and I would come in and park our butts at the bar. Ronen and Lilla had, too, before they’d moved to New York.
Walking in, I was greeted with the usual early evening crowd. It felt good to be back. It was familiar, like a comfy pair of slippers. A few of the regulars waved to me—our gang was well-known—and I made my way up the three steps to the bar.
Rex was talking to a very dapper, very good-looking fellow. The regulars didn’t dress that fancy, so I assumed that it must be Trey. If that were the case, the man was thirty minutes early. I didn’t want to talk to him. I’d embarrassed myself the last time I had.
Why compound it by putting a face to my weeping desperate voice?
I was about to take a barstool at the end of the bar and wait for Rex to have a free second when he looked over at me. I smiled, but Rex looked petrified.
Excusing himself from the GQ-looking man, Rex came up to me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dapper Dude’s jaw drop.
I spared him a glance. Is it Trey?
His eyes went huge, and my heart thumped hard beneath my breastplate.
Reaching for me, Rex pulled me into his arms, hugging me tight and kissing the side of my head. “Xanthe, get out of here.”
“What?”
He pulled back and took my face in his hands. Blue eyes searched mine. “They’re here.”
“They?” Suddenly, I felt sick. “As in…they.” I recoiled in horror. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“They just got here. I—”
It was too late. My eyes shifted over Rex’s right shoulder, and standing there, not two fucking feet away from us—
Oliver bloody Fairfax.
“Xanthe.” His voice stressed my name, as though it had been dragged from his throat.
My heart shattered all over again, looking into those hooded whiskey eyes. All I could see was his face from that night—furious, hateful, hurting, and vicious.
Before I could break out into humiliating snorting sobs, I looked at Rex. “I’ll see you at home then?”
He nodded.
I turned, and I fucking got the hell out of there.
Ollie
As I’d come out from the restroom, I had seen Xanthe from the shadows of the corridor. She had been right there, maybe five steps from where I’d stood. My eyes had drunk in the sight of her. Her smile hadn’t been the blinding kind she’d turned on me more than once, but it had been genuine as she saw the object of her affection.
Richard Dexter, Trey’s somewhat ex, and our prospect for the new Timeless ads.
Xanthe had thrown her arms around his shoulders, and Richard had embraced her back. Angling his head, he’d quietly said something in her ear, prompting my feet into motion. The smile had slowly faded from her face, and she’d pulled back.
Only the back of Richard’s head had been visible, so I could only speculate as to what he had told her as I’d gauged her reaction to the information. Her eyes had grown wide and fearful. Richard’s large hands had come up and held her face, as though he cherished her.
Stricken hazel eyes had torn their gaze from Richard’s and bored into mine. I’d been close enough to see the glaze of tears in them.
“Xanthe.” I’d breathed her name, as though she were truly the goddess of legends before me and I but an awestruck worshipper.
How is it that each time I see her, she’s even more beautiful than the last?
It wasn’t like I could forget her face. But there she had been, staring at me in horror, and it was as though I’d never seen a more breathtaking sight.
Her eyes had shifted back to Richard. “I’ll see you at home then?”
What?
Oh, holy shit. Richard Dexter. Rex.
I swear to God, one day, I will not be this fucking clueless.
Spinning on her heel, Xanthe stormed down the steps toward the door, and my brain kicked back into operation mode.
“Xanthe! Wait!” I called out, shoving Rex to the side and swiveling around patrons.
“For you? As if!” she hurled over her shoulder before charging out the door.
She turned left when she made it outside, but I kept an eye on her head of wild auburn hair. She power-walked hard down the sidewalk, and I had to sprint to catch up. My heart was in my throat as I reached my right hand out to clamp down around her left upper arm and spin her around.
“Xanthe Love—”
I really shouldn’t have let that slip. I should’ve known better. Her right hand whipped out like lightning and connected hard with my face, my head snapping to the side with the force of it.
“Damn it,” she huffed. “That would’ve been a lot more satisfying if it had made a louder noise.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. It was just so Xanthe. “I’ll shave my beard and let you have another go, if you’d like.”
“Fuck you,” she spit, taking a step back and crossing her arms over her chest. “I want nothing to do with you ever again.”
“I know,” I said softly. “I fucked up. I knew the second the plane took off how very, very wrong I was—”
“Dumping me was one thing, Ollie. But you screwed over Mandy. You sold out hundreds of Paranormal Hunters fans because you were butt-hurt. I should’ve thrown you to the fucking wolves!”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, keeping my voice calm. Inside, I was anything but. “You and Mandy did everything possible to save my arse—”
“Because you’re now the face of Donovan Colt! You’re who they see in their minds when they hear or read that name. They love you for that! I couldn’t take that away from them.”
“That kind of ensures that we’d see each other again,” I pointed out.
She sneered at me, and I couldn’t help but think that she was adorable, even in this horrid mood.
“I’ve survived worse,” she said.
“I got your messages,” I told her. “The moment I landed in Germany, I tried to call you back.”
“I got rid of your number.”
“I know.” Hearing it from her left my heart spasming somewhere in my gut. “I went to the airport the day we were supposed to come back—”
She pointed an index finger right up in my face. “You can go to hell!”
Grabbing the offending hand, I brought it to my lips, kissing her fingertips. “I’m already there, Xanthe.”
I pressed her warm palm to my slapped cheek. It did cross my mind that she could curl her fingers into my beard and rip out a decent clump of facial hair.