A Day in a Life

Chapter Fifteen

Elijah

T HIS ISN’T GOING well. Sydni projects an “I’m unavailable” vibe. Any and all attempts at conversation or getting together have been seamlessly diverted. She’s well versed in how to brush off unwanted attention.

I need to try another tactic. Something that will get her to notice me. So far, I’m just another table to serve.

Nothing prepared me for her soft voice. It’s almost an angelic whisper. Just one more thing I love about her.

“Hello, I’m Brook.”

I was so deep in thought, I didn’t even notice her approach. “How’s it going?”

“My coworker tells me you’re looking for someone to show you around Key West. Just wanted to let you know I’m available.”

I can’t explain it, but I feel betrayed. “Uh…thanks, Brook. I appreciate the offer, and I’ll keep you in mind.”

Brook hands me a torn paper with her number jotted down. “Here’s my number. Call when you’re ready for your tour .” She says tour in a seductive manner, as though the tour won’t really be an actual tour.

Oh boy. I can’t believe Sydni handed me off to a coworker. And a player at that. I should be offended. But I’m not. I don’t give up easily.

Sydni’s caught my eyes on her several times. She knows I’m watching her. I wanted her to notice. Maybe I’m acting far too bold, but she met and held my gaze on several occasions. I don’t think she’s as unaffected as she’s trying to appear. After what she’s been through, she’s understandably prickly. It’ll take some effort to break down the fortress surrounding her.

Little does she know, she’s the whole reason I’m here. Giving up is not in my vocabulary.

I can’t launch into asking her questions, interviewing her like I did everyone else. She’s hiding out in Key West for a reason. I don’t want her to run again.

No, getting to know Sydni Greer is going to take some effort. Like approaching a butterfly without scaring it away.

The problem is, I’m not good at waiting. Not when I’ve found what I’m looking for and know what I want. I might be the meek and mild investigator who can get people to sing, but then I’m the wrecking ball Miley sings about. Once I have proof positive, I’ve never been good at holding back. Emersyn, my sister, calls me a go-for-it kind of guy. Whatever that means.

I could stop here, snap a few pictures as proof, tell Risk Policy Collective Sydni Greer’s alive. Cole would not receive the life insurance payout, and all would be right with the world. It’s all I was asked to do.

You can take being a policeman away from a man, but you can’t take the policeman out of a man.

I’d be leaving the lovely Sydni to face the aftermath alone. I have no idea what Cole would do. Or her family. For that matter, what would Sydni do?

No, I need to see this case through, find out the truth, and try to make things right for Sydni. Assuming she’s the innocent one, which I believe she is.

She has to be. It’s what I want her to be.

The more I brood over this case, the more I realize Sydni could be in great danger. If I can find her, so can Cole. What would he do if he knew Sydni was alive? I have a feeling it wouldn’t be good. Money has the power to make a criminal out of the best people. When it comes to Cole, we’re already dealing with a rotten egg.

So what now?

There are two doors to the restaurant. One is a glass door that leads to indoor seating and the restrooms.

The other door is also a glass door, but it’s a double swinging door, one side for the servers going in and one side for the servers going out. It makes it easy for them to move in and out hands-free.

I’m thinking about heading that way in the name of using the restroom. But instead, I’ll move slowly, waiting for Sydni to exit the restaurant. At that point, we’ll accidentally on purpose bump shoulders and I’ll fall to the ground. When she sees my cane, she’ll feel horrible.

Since she represents the restaurant, she’ll be forced to help me up, and to apologize.

Maybe it’ll be our chance to actually have a conversation. I’m not okay with using my cane as a sympathy card. I want Sydni to like me for me. But if this is the only way to get to know a beautiful woman—I mean a beautiful suspect—then I’m up for it. I need to get her attention somehow.

Ry and I used the old bump-into-someone technique on many occasions to get close to a suspect. It works. I’m not sure if it will work on Sydni, though. If there had been a door between us, it would’ve been slammed shut several times this evening.

My ears are in love with her voice. It’s calming and comforting. I wouldn’t mind hearing her voice every day for the rest of my life, whispering how much she loves me.

I’ll add this point to my unwritten love song.

Geez. Focus, Elijah. Executive decision. I’m going to do it. It’ll be our…what does my sister call it? Oh yeah, our meet-cute. We need it, since out first meet-cute wasn’t cute. We are in need of a meet-cute.

I have a feeling my sister would say bumping into her is not cute. It’s all I’ve got. I have no idea what a meet-cute is supposed to be. Sounds dumb to me. Just go say hello and spark up a conversation. Unfortunately, it won’t work in this situation. Getting to know Sydni so far has been like running into a brick wall. She’s not interested, although she’s also crazy busy. Regardless, desperate measures are in order.

Decision made, I grab my cane and walk slowly, leaning heavily for support that I don’t actually need at the moment.

As I approach the doors, I pause as though I need to catch my breath. It takes a few minutes, but I finally see Sydni approaching the “out” door. She’s not looking where she’s going. Instead, she’s looking at the receipts in her hands, probably making sure she delivers the correct receipt to the correct table.

Here’s my chance.

I begin to walk forward. Just as she gets close to me, I bump her shoulder and fall backward onto the deck. It’s a controlled fall, but it still doesn’t feel amazing on my spine.

Shocked, Sydni takes a few steps backward, bumping into the waitress behind her, which then propels her forward. She trips on my legs, and lands…Right. On. Top. Of. Me.

That didn’t go as planned. Or maybe it’s perfect. My breath whooshes out of my lungs. Sydni’s so petite, it doesn’t hurt at all. In fact, I like the feel of her small body on top of mine.

We’re face to face, with only about an inch between us. The same thing happens that’s been happening all day. There’s a long moment where we simply stare at each other. Then her expression changes from “lost in my eyes” to “I’m mortified.”

She gets to her feet. “I’m so sorry, sir. That was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Sydni holds out her hands to help me up. “Can you stand? Wait, I don’t think you should move until we know you’re okay.”

I place my hands in her delicate hands. Her skin is baby soft. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Once I’m on my feet, she notices my cane. She gasps, grabs it, and hands it to me right away. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Should I call an ambulance?”

I hold up one hand in the negative. “I’m fine. The only thing that hurts is my ego.” I stretch my back. “Maybe a few bruises here and there. Nothing that won’t heal quickly.”

“Let me help you sit. Are you sure you’re okay? I’m so, so sorry. I feel terrible.”

Sydni takes my arm and walks me to the nearest chair. I let her fuss over me. “I’m okay, really.” She rests one hand on top of mine in the name of comfort.

It’s then that we notice the poor waitress Sydni bumped into. She’s frozen in place, a trayful of food stuck to her body, the plates broken at her feet.

A few other waitresses have rushed to her rescue, peeling a hamburger off her chest and an array of french fries from her belly. The cherry soda has turned her clothes red, and the splotches of mayonnaise, ketchup, and mustard make her look like a child’s first painting. The avocado slices stuck to one arm make for a nice touch.

Sydni turns to look at me, the mortified expression still pasted on her face.

“I think I fared well in that exchange,” I tell her. Then I start to laugh because the poor paralyzed waitress still hasn’t moved an inch, like she doesn’t know what to do.

Sydni hides her face from the food-covered waitress with one hand and starts to laugh too.

Shocked, I can’t help but stare at the way the smile transforms her face. Wow. Just wow. I wish she’d smile more often. She’s radiant. That’s not a word I usually use to describe a woman. Sydni is turning me into a lovesick fool.

The other waitresses help the poor girl who looks like she just got into a food fight back inside to get her cleaned up. An older lady comes to check on me.

“Are you all right, sir? I’m Sissy, owner of Bayside Eatery. Can I do anything for you?” she asks.

“I’m all right. Thanks to this young lady who didn’t hesitate to ensure I’m okay. No harm done.”

“Are you sure? I’ll be happy to send you to the ER for a checkup, all expenses paid,” the older lady says in a serious tone.

“There’s no need. I really am fine.”

“Go tend to your tables, Saige. I’ll take care of this.”

Wait. That wasn’t part of the plan. I want Sydni/Saige to take care of me.

“Again, I apologize profusely,” Sydni/Saige says before she leaves. I feel alone when she leaves my side.

The older lady sits next to me. “Are you sure you’re okay? Perhaps we should get you checked out, just to be on the safe side.”

“I promise, nothing hurts, and there’s no harm done. I’m fine. Please thank your excellent employee for coming to my aid so quickly. She didn’t hesitate to help me.”

“All right, then. If you’re sure. Please let me know if any aftereffects appear. The restaurant will take care of all medical expenses.”

“You’re very kind. Thank you.”

“Your meal’s on us. Have you already paid?” the old lady persists.

“I haven’t. At least let me leave a tip for your waitress who was at my side in an instant. I insist.” I pull out a twenty. “What was her name? Saige? Please thank her for me.” I’m laying it on a little thick, but I don’t want Sydni/Saige to get in trouble because of me.

The old lady nods. “I sincerely hope you’re all right, sir.”

I get to my feet, and the old lady holds one arm to steady me, when I want it to be Sydni/Saige.

“Thanks so much.” I hightail it out of there just as quickly as my slightly sore back will allow.

So much for a meet-cute. Epic fail.

Although, it had its moments.

It was kind of a meet-sweet disaster.

Just affirmed what I already knew. Once armed with information, I wasn’t trained to approach butterflies. I was trained to be a wrecking ball.