Chapter 19 It’s Me, Jonathan
Chapter 19 It’s Me, Jonathan
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Certainly, the boss couldn’t have been possessed. That can only mean I’ve seriously misunderstood.
While his brain scrambled to catch up, Zion failed to stop the car in time. It breezed past the woman and her dog, kicking up a cold gust and a flurry of dry leaves in its wake.
Anneliese flinched from the sudden chill and instinctively stepped further off the road, pulling Meatloaf along.
“Stop the car.”
The air inside the Bentley dropped several degrees. Zion felt a chill creep down the back of his neck and stomped on the brake without thinking.
The car came to a halt. And then Zion stared in absolute shock as his notoriously cold and romance–allergic boss opened the door–and headed straight for the woman on the sidewalk.
He’s approaching her!
And trying to talk to her!
Everything Zion believed about the world shattered in that moment.
Anneliese kept her head down, her eyes fixed on her scraped leg. She’d fallen earlier while running through a dark alley.
A shadow suddenly blocked her view. In her peripheral vision, a pair of sharp, black leather shoes appeared.
Her blood ran cold, face pale, and she turned to run–only to have her wrist caught in a strong grip.
She didn’t hesitate–she lowered her head and sank her teeth into his hand.
The man grunted. His voice was low and unfamiliar. “It’s me… Jonathan.”
Anneliese stiffened as soon as she realized she’d bitten the wrong person. She slowly let go and looked down–right into the big goofy face of Meatloaf, who was happily sitting at the man’s feet, tail wagging like a fan.
“Woof!”
Mortified, Anneliese yanked her hand away like she’d touched something scalding and
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11:33 Fri, Sep 5
Chapter 19 It’s Me, Jonathan
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stumbled back two steps. “I’m so sorry! Someone was chasing us just now–I thought…”
But when her gaze met Jonathan’s steady, quict eyes, her cars flushed red. Every time she saw this man, she was either apologizing or thanking him. It was like he had a knack for showing up exactly when she was at her lowest.
“Is your hand okay?” she asked guiltily.
Jonathan let his arm fall to his side, out of her view.
“What happened?” he asked, his eyes scanning her, landing on the bruise near her temple.
There was something about his gaze–it was too clear, too cutting. It made her feel exposed. Embarrassed.
And they weren’t even close.
She forced a smile and shook her head. “It’s nothing. I just… ran into a homeless guy. Scared myself and fell.”
Jonathan obviously didn’t buy it, but he didn’t press. Instead, he stepped aside slightly. “Get in. I’ll take you.”
“No, no, that’s not necessary. I already called a ride–wait! Meatloaf–ah!”
Before she could finish refusing, Meatloaf had already wagged its butt and hopped into the back seat of the Bentley like it was its own d*mn car.
Anneliese lunged after it in a panic, but the motion pulled hard on her injured knee. Pain shot through her leg, sharp and searing, and she collapsed forward–except the fall never came.
An arm tightened around her waist, lifting her off the ground.
She looked up, stunned, to find herself in Jonathan’s arms, her small frame curled against his
chest.
A firm grip caught her around the waist. Suddenly weightless, she realized she’d been lifted off the street. She was now hanging delicately in a man’s arms.
Startled by the sensation, she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Apologies,” he said evenly. “Didn’t mean to be presumptuous. But you’re hurt–I’ll carry you in.”
Given the situation–and his calm demeanor–Anneliese couldn’t bring herself to protest. She
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Chapter 19 It’s Me, Jonathan
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gave him a sheepish smile. “Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Fullbuster.”
He nodded slightly and started walking.
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He was tall. Taller than Zacharias by about an inch, at least. And his scent–cool and woodsy- became sharper in the night breeze.
Anneliese’s face was nearly level with his jaw, and her gaze inadvertently landed on his pronounced Adam’s apple, where a small mole sat beneath the skin.
She quickly looked away and, trying to ease the awkwardness, asked lightly, “Aren’t there height restrictions for pilots? Mr. Fullbuster, aren’t you over the limit?”
They had reached the car. Jonathan bent slightly, set her gently into the back seat, and leaned over her with one hand braced against the roof. “Are you implying I used connections to get through?”
Anneliese blinked and quickly shook her head.
His lips curved faintly. “Then that means you looked me up. Funny, I don’t recall ever telling you my height–or my profession.”
She fell silent, at a loss for words. And just like that, the conversation was dead in the water.
Jonathan didn’t wait for her to respond. He shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side.
Anneliese, still recovering from the embarrassment, glared at Meatloaf.
The golden retriever lay flat in the car, buried its head between its paws, and even flopped one over its ear–playing dead, pretending like none of this was its fault,
Jonathan got in on the other side, and the car slowly pulled away from the curb.
Anneliese cleared her throat, figuring she should at least try to explain. “Mr. Fullbuster, you’re quite well–known. I didn’t have to look you up–people talk.”
Jonathan gave a noncommittal nod. He didn’t press further. Instead, he simply said-
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