Page 4 of Claim Her
Still, I can’t shake off the feeling that my whole life’s about to change. The last time I felt like this was when both my parents died while on a boat in the middle of the ocean.
I’m not sure what Zara's part is, but something has shifted. I can taste it in the air around me.
It doesn’t matter. We’ll rarely see each other, and I’ll make it a point to avoid her, which is just as well. Things are getting tense at work—the real one and not the front—so I can’t afford distractions.
The last thing I need is some random woman taking my mind off things that really matter. Many lives depend on us. We can’t let them down.
Besides, she’s probably not even thinking of me the way I’m currently obsessing over her.
2
ZARA
Who is that guy? And why am I still thinking of him when we barely interacted for five minutes? Actually, ‘interacted’ is a bit generous. I introduced myself, and he grunted in response, like I was an annoyance.
To be fair, I was … kind of. I mean, I was in his way, not that it was intentional, but if it had been other people, they would’ve responded kindly. Not him. He was clearly one of those grumpy, brooding types who talked in monosyllables or didn’t talk at all.
I try to chalk up this weird fixation to intrigue. After all, the burn mark on his face is big enough that it’s hard to ignore. The scar was darker than the rest of his skin, and there was even a tight band of scar tissue on the corner of his right eye. I wonder if it’s still painful when the skin stretches.
Ugh, I know. It’s the nurse in me. I can always make such detailed observations in seconds. I hope he didn’t see me stare. Then again, he probably did. He did shrink into his clothes and pull his collar up. God, he probably thought I was one of those people who’d blatantly ask him about it.
My phone rings while I walk toward my car, and I toss my things in the passenger seat before answering. “Mom?”
She sounds a little breathless, probably from her daily run. “Hi, honey. Are you off work?”
“Yup. Just got in my car. I’m dropping by the bookstore real quick and grabbing dinner on the way.”
“What’s dinner?”
“Burrito and quesadilla maybe.”
“You don’t eat like someone in the medical field.”
Laughter bursts out of me. “Mom, I know.”
“You tell your patients to avoid these foods, and yet you consume them like you have a second life.”
I’m still chuckling when I slide the key in and the engine rumbles to life. “Yes, Mom. I’m too tired to make dinner. It’s been a long shift.”
“Yet you’re never too tired to bake cookies and cupcakes and whatever.”
“Baking is my way of destressing. So, why did you really call? I’m sure it’s not to ask for my meals.”
“Oh, your father told me we’re flying to Ferncombe for your birthday. He said it’s a surprise, so don’t tell him I told you.”
I put her on speaker as I shift the gear to drive and drive out of the parking lot. “So, why did you?”
“I wanted to ask where you’d like to eat. He said I should do my research and book the restaurant you like. We both know I’m no good at lying, so I figured why not ask you directly.”
God, my parents are so funny without even trying. “I want something Japanese. I’ll send you the name later.”
“Okay, got it. You have to pretend to look surprised when we get there, okay?”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. “Yes, sure, Mom.”
“Love you, honey. Got to go. Try to add more fruits and veggies to your meals tomorrow. Maybe you can blend them into a smoothie. It’s a healthier breakfast than just bagel and iced coffee.”
“Love you too, Mom.”