That Was Then (The Re-Do Series Book 1) (7 page)

K
endall

Dang! This guy is
foine
!

I’m not a shallow person. At least, I don’t think I am. A handsome face can hide a deplorable character and vice versa, so I usually don’t judge people on their appearance. Unless I’m like… in a bad side of town in the middle of the night.

Then I judge. Hard.

The point is, I’m always telling people that looks don’t matter. Partially because I know I need to lose some pounds around, but mostly because I mean it. They don’t.

That being said, Alistair Howard cleans up
good
. The guy is wearing a jacket that just accentuates his broad shoulders. And what kind of deal has the man made with white polos? The plain shirts only add to his appeal.

He’s wearing regular jeans and solid black shoes. In comparison, I’m way overdressed. And yet, as he pushes my chair in,
he’s
the one stealing all the attention in the restaurant. I even spot an older woman checking him out!

I’m nervous, but finding out what I did about him last night helps. Alistair is more than a gorgeous face. He’s a person with a story, and a tragic one at that. He’s human. And so am I. Embracing that truth is freeing.

“Goodnight,” a harried waitress arrives at our table and hands us menus.

She glances at Alistair for a second. I see the minute her eyes double back and brighten. I feel a flash of jealousy but easily let it go. I understand. Alistair’s face was made for admiration.

“Good night,” he returns in that delicious British accent.

The girl fairly melts.

I feel you, sistah.

“I’ll be back in a minute for your order.”

“Thanks,” I say.

Even though I don’t know her, we both arch our eyebrows in Alistair’s direction and silently freak out. When the hot guy lifts his head, we freeze and she walks away.

“So,” I spare the menu a quick glance. I already know what I’m getting. Coconut shrimp.
Paparrazi’s
sells the best in Belize. “What looks good?”

“All of it,” he admits. “What are you getting?”

“Coconut shrimp,” I reply easily.

His eyes search the menu. I follow, realizing that coconut shrimp is one of the most expensive dishes here.

Feeling like a heel, I quickly offer.

“I can pay for my half.”

Alistair’s eyes shoot up, the chocolate orbs searing my skin.

“Kendall, you don’t have to pay for anything.”

“I know,” I quickly try to dig myself out of the hole I created, “I was just pointing out that I
could
.”

“Alright,” he smiles and I breathe a little easier knowing he’s not going to start lecturing me on how capable
he
is at paying for the meal, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

I nervously shuffle my hands together. “I guess it’s obvious that I’m not used to this.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not either. I can’t remember the last time I went on a date.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Alistair folds his hands together and leans forward.

I shrug. My curls sway with the movement.

“Because you look like … that,” I gesture in his general direction.

He smiles. My heart drops down to my stomach and then bounces on the trampoline the butterflies are using.

“Well, I don’t know about all that,” he ducks his head. “I’ve been too busy for dating. And my line of work wasn’t… conducive to relationships.”

“Oh, what did you do?”

The waitress returns to take our orders before he can answer. The minute she leaves, I lean forward again.

He folds the napkin in front of him.

“I worked as an independent contractor.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” I bob my head.

“My turn, tell me how you got into the baking business.”

I smile at the term. “My parents got divorced when I was nine.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he frowns.

Alistair’s sympathy has guilt bubbling up in my chest.
I
should be the one apologizing to him. Biting down on my bottom lip, I push the impulse away. Alistair didn’t invite me into that private corner of his life, so I won’t bring it up.

“Thank you,” I continue. “Anyway, at first they were both competing to ‘win’ my affections. So I got a lot of toys for my birthday every year. This one time, my dad bought me an Easy-Bake oven.”

“Wow, I always wanted one of those.”

I laugh. “So, that’s basically how my pastry skills got started. My parents would take me to cooking lessons. I spent my summers learning how to decorate cakes. I’ve been baking ever since. It’s all I want to do.”

“Sounds like you’ve found your calling.”

“I have,” I sigh contentedly. “What about you? What’s your calling?”

“Ooh, deep.” He hisses. “I’m not sure. I have a… unique set of skills but I’m not satisfied with the place they’ve brought me to.”

“I get it. Sometimes, we make decisions that we later on regret, but it feels like we’ve come too far to get out.”

I think of all my loans, bills that I could have avoided had I been a little more responsible with my grades and with my money.

“You know what I always think when I get overwhelmed?”

“What?” Alistair’s eyes are doing their best to distract me, but we’re being serious right now. I want to speak on the level because he seems open to it.

“Everything happens for a reason. Failure is not an excuse to live in the past, to stay stuck in one place. Everyone has a chance to turn regret into a lesson. Turn lessons into growth. And be successful.”

He leans back in his chair and appraises me like I’m a work of art. I feel insanely self-conscious.

“Could you say something?” I plead.

He does.

“You, Kendall Villanueva, are a very wise woman.”

“I’m not wise.” I shake my head.

His arm extends across the table and he holds my hand.

“You are. Thank you for being honest.”

“Well, thanks for letting me blabber on and on.”

His thumb presses the skin of my wrist. “I like it when you blabber.”

Oh, sweet mother of Oreos
.

I start giggling. I am not a giggle-er, but I’m daintily laughing like a
maniac
right now. Thankfully, Alistair releases my arm and the conversation returns to shallow things.

I enjoy getting to know him. He doesn’t bring up his childhood or his current work, which is something that I notice. But I refuse to pry. Instead, we speak about science, philosophy, and art.

He speaks about all the places he’s visited and I share my wish-list of returning to Paris and completing my courses.

Alistair’s an extremely good listener. Despite the looks he gleans from the women in the restaurant, I don’t see his eyes wavering once.

By the end of the night, I feel like I’ve known him for most of my life. He’s funnier than he looks on the outside. I’m glad that I didn’t judge him on our first meeting.

I like this guy. Not his face or his money. I like Alistair Howard.

And call me crazy but, I think he might like me too.

A
listair

I don’t want the night to end, but short of kidnapping her and holding her hostage in my hotel room (something Kendall will probably not appreciate), I have to let her go.

We step out into the parking lot. The dark sky is a canvas of black and silver. The stars are abundant tonight. The Caribbean Sea is splayed out in all her beauty a couple yards away. Waves arch toward the sky and crash back to the murky depths. Their thrashing is joined by the sound of the wind rushing through the leaves of the coconut trees.

“Well, this is it.”

Kendall stops beside a boxy red Trooper that has seen better days.

“So this is Lula.”

“Yup,” Kendall chuckles, “my little baby.”

“‘
Little
’, huh?”

“Don’t make fun,” Kendall laughingly punches me in the arm.

I like that she’s comfortable enough to do that. This woman is as enchanting on the inside as she is on the outside. Her presence alone warms me through and through. The more I discover about her, the more I want to keep her safe.

She clutches her purse to her chest and sends me a charming look.

“So, I had a nice time tonight.”

I lean against the dusty surface of her car, dangerously close to invading her personal space.

“I did too.”

She turns her beautiful face toward me. My gaze flickers to her mouth. I’m adept at reading body language but with this particular woman, my own emotions might be clouding my judgment.

Is she open to a kiss? Is it acceptable to try for such a move this early in our acquaintance?

We awkwardly make small-talk as I figure out what to do. Before I know it, Kendall is telling me goodnight and staring at me expectantly. I realize that she’s waiting for me to step back so that she can enter her vehicle.

But I can’t move. Something about this abrupt ending doesn’t sit well with me.

“I had a nice time tonight,” I blurt.

She chuckles. “I think you said that already.”

I have.

Alistair, you idiot!

I rub my hair away from my forehead and sigh.

“Right.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. No.”

This is not going well.

“See the thing is, I’m trying to figure out a way… to ask if I can kiss you. But it’s harder than I imagined.”

She smiles.

I hope my honesty hasn’t ruined my chances.

“Well, the answer is yes.”

Stunned, I appraise her seriously.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

I want to shout to the sky. Instead, I restrain the impulse and lean slowly forward. Kendall secures her fingers in the flaps of my blazer. I situate my hands around her waist. Those perfect lips have been calling to me since the moment I first saw them.

I’m a breadth away from tasting her lips when I hear it. A sharp whistling sound. My gut is screaming louder than my desire. Without thinking it through, I propel Kendall backwards. Keeping my hands on her waist, I push her down onto the hard gravel of the parking lot.

“What the heck?” she squeals.

I know I should apologize as I help her to a crouching position, but my senses are on overload.

“Be quiet,” I command.

The old instincts are rushing back. Not that they were ever gone. Since the day I signed on, I knew I would live the rest of my life on the run from some type of danger.

I hope I haven’t dragged Kendall into the thick of it.

Rising slowly to my feet, I notice an object glinting in the moonlight. The hilt of a dagger is buried in a small coconut tree.

Shadow!

“Get in the car,” I urge as another knife spirals dangerously past our heads.

“No,” Kendall stubbornly remains in place.

I know that Shadow’s next attack is coming in less than a second. We don’t have time to argue!

I pick up a rock and smash it into her window. Quickly opening the latch, I shade us from two more knives with the metal of the open hinge.

“Sugar crap! What the heck is going on right now?” Kendall yells.

The blood is rushing in my ears. I’ve never worked
with
a non-assassin. Right now, Kendal’s safety is my highest priority. I have to get her out of here.

“Go around the hood,” I whisper.

“Thanathus!” A guttural voice yells.

I’m momentarily taken aback. I haven’t heard that name in so many years. Was Shadow a member of my original league?

Kendall’s frightened shriek brings me back to the present. I situate her in the car and climb in on the driver’s side. I’ve got to get her out of here.

“Hand me your keys.”

My voice is abrupt. I don’t have time to be gentle. Her hands are trembling but she drops the keys in my palm. I slam the proper key in the car’s engine and step on the gas.

Nothing happens.

Confused, I turn the key again and wait for a healthy rumble to meet my ears.

Nothing.

We’re sitting ducks in this trap of an old Trooper.

“J-just give me a minute.” Kendal rummages in the glove compartment, “there’s duct tape around here somewhere.”

Duct tape? Is this woman serious?

“Kendall, what are you going to do with duct tape?”

“I’m going to-”

Her reply is cut short when the windows crack loudly and an object shoots inside. I bend down and cover her head with my body. If Kendall screams any louder, she’ll break the rest of the windows in here.

I look up and see Shadow in the traditional robes of the league standing in front of the truck like  an expression-less ghost. I quickly grasp the hilt of the dagger now embedded in the head rests and stare at Kendall.

“
Stay
down.”

She’s a stubborn one that doesn’t react well to instruction, but I’m hoping she’s frightened enough to go against her instincts this time.

“Where are you going? Don’t go out there!”

“Call the police,” I instruct.

My eyes dart upward. Shadow is stalking closer, his robes billowing in the wind.

“See if you can start Lula and get out of here, but keep your head down. Or you will die.”

I shove the door open and hop out. I need to bring the fight away from the public parking lot. The restaurant is filled with innocent people. Someone could get hurt.

My footsteps are sure and my limbs loose as I rush at Shadow. His fingers dart into his robes. My instincts take over. I dash to the side as sharp daggers come flying at my face.

I narrowly avoid the missiles. When I draw close enough to make contact, I drag the knife downward. Shadow moves like a wave, easy and quick. The dagger cuts through empty air. Swiveling fast, I block his punch.

Both of us are holding on to knives. The tip of his dagger slides through my arm. I ignore the pain, allowing adrenaline to drown out the nerves screaming in agony. Shadow matches each of my moves, par for par.

I am further suspicious of his origins. He fights as if he too had come under the instruction of a similar teacher. I have no time for admiration, however. Neither does Shadow.

I have managed to draw him back near the secluded portion of the parking lot. The assassin grunts. I catch a hint of his eyes behind the dark covering over his face before he slams me hard in the back with the hilt of his dagger.

I cry out and fall to the floor.

I’m about to give in to the death that I deserve when I hear the screeching of tires. Shadow is flung into the chain link fence and lands on the ground with a thud. I glance up and see the smiling grill of Kendall’s truck.