“Who the fuck is Ashton?” Calum asks.
“That is Ashton!” Luke says, squinting his eyes to make out the figure in the dark.
“Who the fuck is Ashton?” Michael echoes Calum’s question.
“That is him, isn’t it?” I ask Luke.
“I’m ninety nine percent sure that it’s him,” Luke agrees with me.
“Who is he?” Michael says, too loud.
“Ashton, he just started working for your dad!” I remind him.
“You just met him, like, two days ago,” Luke rolls his eyes.
“Do you expect me to remember every single goddamn insignificant person that my father hires?” Michael hisses.
“You are literally such a dick, Michael, I can’t even,” Luke shakes his head.
I snort, looking back over my shoulder at Luke. “You can’t even?”
“Shut up,” Luke smiles, nudging me.
“If you two are done flirting, can you please explain this to me?” Calum asks. Michael’s gaze is unfocused as he stares out the window, but he’s not too far gone for his possessive instincts to be forgotten. He glares between me and Luke, relaxing slightly when I thread my fingers through his, a subtle reminder that he is the one who owns my heart.
I turn to Calum. “There’s not much to explain. He just started working for Michael’s dad… and he came into the bar when I was working the night before,” I add on, suddenly remembering.
“So?” Calum rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything,” I say hotly. “I’m just pointing out that it’s not very likely that these two instances are completely unrelated. Whatever research that you did led you to this house… this random house… and someone that you know just happens to be here? Doesn’t that seem like quite the coincidence?”
“There’s no such thing as coincidences,” Calum mumbles, clearly deep in thought.
“I do remember him,” Michael suddenly interjects. “He was in your office, Kate. When we went to get lunch, he was in your office.”
“Oh yeah,” I suddenly recall the conversation. “Yeah, that was weird…”
“What did he want?” Luke asks.
“He wanted… to make sure that I didn’t think he was a stalker.”
“What?” The look of discomfort on Calum’s face is almost amusing; he clearly hates being confused.
“Okay, listen carefully to this story,” I say slowly. I am exaggerating my words, a petty attempt to belittle Calum. He is rude. “I work at Hemingway’s bar, do you know it? It’s a few blocks from my apartment.” Calum nods, letting me continue. “He came in while I was working, I waited on him. He was a little bit odd, not like… nothing crazy, but he was just weird. He was by himself and I could tell that he knew me, he recognized me. He waited outside after he left… I felt like he was waiting for me, so I had my boss drive me home instead of walking.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Michael breathes, interrupting my story with an intense look in his eyes.
“I forgot,” I shrug. It’s the truth, it didn’t seem important. “But then the next day, I recognized him immediately in the lobby. And then he came into my office later and told me that he’d seen me when he came for his interview, that he recognized me. And that’s why he was weird at the restaurant.”
