Page 22 of Hollow Forest

There was no way to know. Joey’s attention felt stalkerish. But who was going to believe me? A customer who had a favorite drink, and I was apparently the only one who could make it just right.

No, if I was going to accuse him, I needed solid proof that he was the masked man breaking into my house in the middle of the night.

I slid the mug onto a saucer.

“Here, this goes with that,” Angela said, setting a tiny espresso mug and matching plate next to the cappuccino.

“It does?” I frowned.

“For Cam,” she clarified.

Oh…the friend.

Armed with both drinks, I took a deep breath and walked over to the back of the café. The men stopped their conversation as I approached. While the friend—Cam—greeted me with a strained smile, Joey wore his usual neutral mask.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” I offered.

It was so hard not to fidget.

“Thanks, but we’re set,” Cam responded.

He didn’t even say hi.

I gave them a short nod before escaping back to the counter. It shouldn’t bother me that I didn’t have the handyman’s small talk. It was weird enough that he was now a frequent customer. What was I hoping for? A date? That was really messed up if in fact Joey did like to wear masks and break into houses.

Tugging on my bottom lip, I realized there was one way to put the problem to rest.

I took out my phone and sent a message.

Me: You cooked.

I waited half a heartbeat, before casually tucking my phone against my side and staring out the window. From my peripheral, I could see the back table. Joey continued to talk to his buddy. He didn’t have his phone out that I could see. Although the arm that was usually slung over the back of the chair was in his lap.

Mine buzzed. Joey remained focused on Cam.

Unknown: I did.

I frowned.

It probably wasn’t him.

Why did that make me feel…strange? Defeated maybe? It wasn’t relief. I wanted to put a face to the mystery!

Or maybe I just wanted to not feel guilty for flirting with the nocturnal danger while ogling the hottie who’d been working on my house.

A text vibrated in my hand.

Unknown: Are you playing games, little doe?

An incredulous laugh coughed from my throat. “The nerve of this guy.”

I flicked a glance at the table, and my heart sank slightly. It would make sense if the handyman was my stalker. Did I have two of them? If I did, that could be dangerous if they found out about one another.

That was more masculine energy than I needed. A girl like me shouldn’t even want one guy. The smart choice was to pick the blue-collared worker and not the mad man, hiding his face and leaving roast in a crockpot I didn’t own.

Which had been a really thoughtful gesture.

“It’s not attraction,” I hissed.