Moment of Weakness (Embracing Moments Book 1) (11 page)

“Here it is,” he said, pulling out a thick cream-colored folder.

I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket and punched in the numbers as he rattled them off.

“Thanks, Dad. I just thought it would be a good idea to have his number. I’m thinking I want to go out tonight, and this way I can give him the heads up.”

“I’m sorry you even need to do that, Julia.” His cheeks hollowed. I knew he felt bad for this whole situation, but it wasn’t his fault. The threatening calls were scary. My father had such a good heart, I couldn’t believe there were people out there who could make those calls, let alone act on them. My chest hurt just thinking about it.

I walked over and tossed my arms around him. “Don’t be sorry, Dad. Never be sorry for protecting us.” He dropped a kiss on the top of my head, and we stood there for a few minutes. “Have the police found anything else out?”

He shook his head. “No, try not to worry about it though.” That was easier said than done. We sat back down in the leather chairs. “I’m glad you came up. I needed to speak to you. There is a business trip I need to take next week. I’ll be leaving Friday and won’t be back until Wednesday evening.”

My eyes moved over to the calendar sitting on my father’s desk. “You really need to leave on Friday? Have you forgotten what day that is?” It was the anniversary of my mother’s passing.

“Of course, I haven’t forgotten, Julia. How could I ever? I tried to change it, I really did.”

A sour feeling swirled in the pit of my stomach. “We’re always together on that day. I just figured—”

“I know, sweetheart, we will still be together. My flight doesn’t leave until later that evening. Why don’t you come with me? It will give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He nodded. “I know things haven’t been easy for you, especially lately, and I know it’s not always easy to talk to Theo and me, but we’re here—”

“I know, Dad. And I’m fine. Really I am.” I flashed him a small smile. He sat there quietly, staring at the same picture that had remained in the same spot on his desk for the past thirteen years. It was a picture of my mother, taken a couple weeks before she died.

“I miss her too,” I said, reaching over and grabbing his hand. And I did. I missed her so much. There was not a day that went by I didn’t think of her, and I knew it was even harder for my father. He lost his best friend, his soul mate. While I lost half my heart that day, he lost so much more of his. Every year that passed was just another year of unanswered questions.

I swallowed hard around the large lump that formed in the back of my throat. “Why do you think she did it, Daddy?” I asked, sweeping away the small tear that escaped.

“I’m not convinced she did, sweetie.”

I watched as a single tear rolled down my father’s cheek. Unlike me, he didn’t bother to wipe it away. And I knew why he didn’t. A few weeks after she died, I walked into my father’s bedroom to find him crying. He had told me he would cry every day for her if he had to. Because he knew somewhere, she was watching down on us, and it was his way of letting her know how much he missed her.

I TYPED OUT
the message for the seventh time, my finger looming over the send button. Taking a deep breath, I pressed it, then proceeded to pace back and forth in my room, phone clenched in my hand as though it was my life line. When it buzzed, indicating I had received a new message, my heart skipped a beat. I clicked on my messages.

Roman: I believe that was the longest text message I have ever received Miss Parker.

I smiled as I typed back.

Me: Can you meet me at my car in 30? Oh and can you lose the suit for the night please?

Roman: Yes. I can meet you at your car in 30. No to the suit. Dress code is part of the job.

I frowned, tapping my fingers against the keys.

Me: Fine.

Figuring he wouldn’t text back, I tossed my phone on the bed and tried to ignore the slight disappointment I felt at his reply. If he wanted to wear his suit, that was fine, but where we were going, it was bound to draw attention. I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a pair of faded denim shorts. Now all I needed was a cute top. My closet was huge, each section color coordinated, which made finding things a lot easier. Sifting through the hangers, I landed on a sleeveless peach chiffon blouse. It buttoned up around the neck and exposed my lower back.

Pulling it from the hanger, I yanked the tags off and grabbed my peach Converse from the shelf. Once I finished dressing, I tousled my hair and pulled a small portion of the front back, clipping it with my blue butterfly clip. I applied some eyeliner and lip gloss before grabbing my cell phone and purse off my bed.

The quietness of the garage had done nothing to help the twisting feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was early and Roman was nowhere in sight. Sitting in the car, my eyes scanned over all the buttons, trying to find the sync button for my phone. After setting up my Bluetooth, I scrolled through my play list and stopped on a song I hadn’t heard in a while.

Flavor of the Weak
by American Hi-Fi blared through the car speakers. Impressed with the quality of the surround sound, I sang along with the music. Before I knew it, my head was bobbing up and down, my phone clutched in my hand like a microphone. Closing my eyes, I sang the last line of the song into my phone.

The sound of footsteps entering the garage caused my body to stiffen. I allowed my phone to fall to my lap and cursed under my breath, hoping whoever just walked into the garage had not just witnessed my mini rock performance. Opening my eyes, I glanced up, a tingling sensation sweeping across the back of my neck as I took in who was standing in front of the car.

It was Roman.

He had left the top button of his dark gray Henley undone, showing off a sliver of his smooth chest. His right hand hung from the pocket of his dark faded jeans while the other gripped the back of his neck. It was a good thing I was already sitting. The way he was eying me had all the feeling in my legs rushing toward the sensitive bundle of nerves between my thighs. Roman’s dark brown hair was still wet, and his lips curved up in the corners, creating the sexiest grin I had ever seen.

Holy hot damn!

It felt like it was a thousand degrees. Fanning my face, I reached over and turned the air conditioner on full blast, ignoring the fact I had the top down. Roman walked over to the passenger side door and opened it, sliding in beside me. And then it hit me. Like actually hit me.

He wasn’t wearing a suit.

A large smile formed on my face and a slow burn crept across my cheeks. The fragrant smell of his cologne was doing a number on the knots in my stomach. Roman didn’t say anything, and for once, I was okay with that. If there ever was a time I needed to focus on something other than him, it was now.

Thirty-five minutes later, we pulled into Krazy Kart Fun Park. I hadn’t told him where we were going or that it would be just the two of us. I pulled into the first parking spot I could find and pressed the button to put the top up. As I turned the engine off, Roman twisted toward me.

His eyes drifted around the parking lot. “Are you meeting some friends here?” he asked, lips slightly parted.

Biting my bottom lip, I shook my head. “No. Lacey had a case she was working on for her father’s law firm so she couldn’t come.”

“Do you do this often? Come out alone, I mean?”

I looked over at him. “I’m not alone. You’re here.”

Stealing his chance at a response, I hopped out of the car, my legs moving quickly toward the entrance. I didn’t bother to look back to see if he was following me, I was afraid if I did, he wouldn’t be there. The line for the ticket counter was long. I should have known. It was a Saturday night, and this was one of the few attractions in the area. The park offered several mini attractions, such as miniature golf, go carts, and laser tag.

The familiar smell of Roman’s cologne filled the surrounding air. A small tapping on my shoulder had me turning around. Roman stood there, his arm stretched out, my purse in his hand. I bolted so fast from the car, afraid he would put up an argument for being here, I forgot to grab it.

“Thanks,” I murmured, taking it from his hands. He lifted his chin, and I twisted on my heel to face the front of the line. The ticket line was so crowded there was little room to move. The lack of space didn’t seem to bother the couple in front of me. They were too busy making out. And not just the gentle, sweet, making out. It was the “Let’s-see-who-can-eat-each-others-face-off-first” making out. Public displays of affection didn’t bother me, but then they moved into my space. Wanting to avoid them, I stepped back and collided with Roman’s chest. The warmth of it spread through my back, and instead of moving away, like I knew I should have, I relaxed against him. I fully expected him to step back. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned in closer, his lips barely touching my ear. My pulse quickened, and the heat from his chest moved down the back of my thighs.

“Why are we here, Miss Parker?” His hot breath caressed my cheek, and my heart thumped against my chest. He held his position, waiting for me to answer.

“I was tired of being home.” I swallowed around the lump forming in my throat. “Tired of being alone.” I turned my head so I could look at him, and the light layer of stubble on his jaw prickled my cheek as it brushed against it. “We can go home if you want,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

We stared at each other, and a thick cloud of tension developed in the small space that remained between us. He shook his head, and his gaze flickered from my eyes down to my mouth. Before I could stop it, my tongue moved across the seam of my lips, separating them. Roman stared for a few seconds and then turned his head. A whoosh of air left my lungs at the loss of eye contact, and I swore I could hear Roman’s doing the same.

We were next up at the ticket counter. Grabbing my wallet from my purse, I pulled out my credit card and reached across to hand it to the lady behind the counter. Roman’s hand cupped mine, moving it away. “I got it. Put your card away.”

Before I could object, he handed his card to the cashier. I stood there shell-shocked. It’s not like I needed him to pay. We weren’t on a date, hell, he didn’t even have a say in coming. It’s just his job. The lady handed him back his card and a pen, placing the printed receipt down in front of us. I watched as he signed his inky signature across the receipt.

Michael Hayes.

Hayes. Why did that sound so familiar? I racked my brain, trying hard to remember where I had heard that name before. Roman handed me my ticket, and we stepped aside.

The phone conversation in my car.

That was it. That’s where I recognized it from. Roman walked toward the door, and even though I wanted to follow him, I couldn’t. Instead, I stepped back and allowed my feet to carry me back to the parking lot. I pulled in a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. I could deal with him not wanting to talk, or not wanting to share things. But not knowing his actual name?

I just couldn’t do it. Maybe I was overreacting. Sure, there were plenty of people who had nicknames or used their middle names as their given name. But how was I supposed to be around him, let alone trust my life in his hands, when he couldn’t even share something as simple as his name?

“Miss Parker.”

I ignored him and kept walking.

“Miss Parker!” he called out, raising his voice.

Nope. Still walking.

“Julia!” he yelled, this time his voice echoing through my ears.

My stomach clenched at the sound of him calling me by my first name. The blood running through my veins burned past its boiling point. My fingers wrapped around my door handle, and as I was about to open it, my whole body twisted in one swift motion. With my back pressed against the cool metal of my car door, Roman’s arms rested on either side of my hips, caging me in. He stepped closer, bending his knees so his face was level with mine.

“Where are you going?” he asked. His voice was calm, gentle, which was surprising given he was just yelling. I considered his question for a minute, but then I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my head, staring into the car-filled parking lot. His fingers curled around my chin, and he tugged lightly, pulling my face back toward him. He looked at me, eyebrows narrowed, and those piercing green eyes I found hard to resist were boring into mine, waiting for me to answer him.