Chapter 9

                                    

                                          
Was Ethan smitten with her? No way. He couldn't be. But he'd wanted to know her name and he'd asked her for coffee. He'd called it a date. She wouldn't get her hopes up though. He probably wouldn't show up in the morning. She'd be sitting there like an idiot waiting on someone who wouldn't show. "Where are you going?" she asked Riley, who was headed towards the door.
"To watch them load the mulch. I need the entertainment," Riley called back over her shoulder, with a smile.
Mila smiled back and followed her over to the window. She only had eyes for one man though, and that was Ethan. Now she had a name for him. Ethan fit him. She could care less about the other two men who were helping him.
He didn't remove his shirt this time, and she found that highly disappointing. She really wanted to see him with no shirt on again. But she also saw him glance at the building more than once and wondered if he knew she was watching him. She wondered if he cared. They finally finished and he got in the truck. Mila sighed as she watched it pull out of the parking lot. It has been so worth watching him, though. And she was going on a date with him. That one still blew her mind.
She finished her shift, grabbed her bag and headed home. She was less sore today but still thinking about another soak in her tub with her book and some epsom salts. Perfect, romantic evening. She rolled her eyes. It would be better if she was in Ethan's bed, but that wasn't happening, and she was a little shocked the thought had even entered her mind.
She pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building and headed inside, frowning when she saw another bouquet of flowers sitting in front of her door. Owen was persistent. The flowers were exactly the same as the ones from yesterday. Not original, but persistent.
She sighed and unlocked the door, pushing it open, before leaning over to grab the flowers. Now she was half tempted to throw them all away. She wondered how many more she'd get before he got the point. Poor flowers.
A hand wrapped around her ponytail, jerking her up and a hand pushed her inside of the apartment. She hit the carpet, her knees scraping across it, before she was hauled back up by her ponytail again. She winced at the feel of having her hair pulled on like that. "Let me go!"
"I told you that you belonged to me," Owen shouted at her. He slapped her hard across the face, making her head spin. She registered the taste of blood in her mouth and the smell of alcohol on his breath.
He let go of her hair and she felt his fist collide with her side making her whimper, while his other one grabbed her wrist, yanking her towards him. "You can't dump me, you little bitch!"
Terror ran through her and she pulled away from him and cried out as she felt something pop, but the noise seemed to startle him and he let go of her wrist.
Mila hurried into the bedroom, slamming her knee into the corner of the dresser in her rush. She grabbed her father's gun and turned around, holding it up as she waited for him to come in. She tried to steady it with her other hand but it wouldn't cooperate, and she had a feeling it was broken.
He stormed into the room and came to a stop, holding his hands up, when he realized he was at the business end of her gun. "Mila. Let me help you," he said in a much softer voice.
"Get. Out," she said with a steady voice, her gun trained on him. Her father had always taught her to never point at anything she didn't intend to shoot.
"Mila.."
"GET OUT NOW!" She screamed. She didn't want to shoot him, but if he came at her, she would.
"Mila?"
"I will shoot you, Owen. I've had plenty of practice. Get out of my apartment and don't ever come back!" She screamed at him.