Push

46. She Connected Another Piece

GWEN

"So, let me get this straight," Marnie said, smirking around the rim of her cocktail glass. "The hot Italian with the sexy as fuck tattoos is following you?"

The same Italian—my new shadow, Romeo—was about ten steps away, elbow crooked on the bar, cool and casual, like he belonged with the Friday night crowd in the yacht club. Maybe he did. I didn't. I hated this place. How did Marnie talk me into stopping by?

I sighed. "Yeah. He's following me." I sipped my drink, almost poking myself in the eye with the umbrella stabbed into the lime wedged on the top of the glass. Another one of Marnie's ideas. Classy, she'd said, and to make it fun—like I was drinking a 'real' drink and not just Coca-Cola.

Marnie cocked her head. "And pray tell why is the sexy Italian following you?"

"No idea."

And I hated that I still hadn't figured that out, too.

On Tuesday night, Toby had surprised me with copies of the clinic books—as well as a homemade dinner, never-ending kisses, and a whole stack of presents. It'd taken me all of five minutes scouring accounting entries to spot and cross-check two shonky transactions.

Five minutes.

After three days of Romeo following me around, the only things I knew for sure was that the man had an interesting taste in magazines—quilting, then Country Living, followed by a well-loved copy of Wildlife Australia—and he was the worst stalker in history. He made no effort to keep himself hidden. He was visible. Noticeable. Everywhere. It was almost like Romeo wanted people to know he was following me.

"You have no idea?" Marnie snorted. "Doubt that. I'm sure you have plenty of theories." Her gaze slid back to Romeo. "I'm workshopping some theories right now myself." She wiggled her eyebrows.

I bet she was. I'd also bet his shirt was off in all of her scenarios. "Quit objectifying my stalker," I laughed.

"I can't help it! Look at him!" She fanned herself with a napkin.

I glanced over my shoulder. I looked. I still didn't get it. "He's...a...man?"

"Gwen, he's not a man. He's a god." Marnie gave me a sly smile as she sipped her cocktail. "You don't see it because you've always preferred the clean-cut hero type. I like 'em...edgier."

"You mean criminal? He probably is, you know."

"Still works." She grinned. "I'm surprised Tobes is okay with this, though."

I avoided Marnie's eyes and snatched up my glass. "Ah..." I took a huge gulp.

"Gwen!" she hissed. "You haven't told him?"

"Well..."

Marnie put her drink down, her eyebrow arched, and she folded her arms. "As your best friend, I get a few hall passes in life to call you out on your bullshit. You've got that man of yours running around, smitten like a kitten, trying so hard to be honest with you, and you don't tell him about this?" Her lips flattened. "Gwen, the Italian Stallion is literally stalking you. I'm questioning your judgment not going to the cops, but even if I let that slide, you can't keep this from Toby."

"I know. Shit, Marnie. I know." Nerves—guilt—had me tugging a hand through my hair. "I'm acting like a complete hypocrite. I know. But I also know Toby. He bounces through the world, completely oblivious to bad people. He's got a big heart. He's too protective. The second he figures out what's going on, he'll go all White Knight and charge out the front door and get himself tangled up in a fight...or..." I swallowed heavily. "Or worse."