been knocked out of me, even though I was still standing. A second later, my knees started to buckle.
That’s when I heard the car.
It was black with tinted windows and the driver’s side door opened and a second later the sound of shoes scraping against the sidewalk filled my eardrums.
It was Colt.
I blinked my eyes a few times, quickly, wondering if I was seeing things. The ringing in my ears was subsiding slowly, but perhaps I was hallucinating.
Everything was moving in slow motion and then Colt was there, in front of us, and he grabbed the men who slapped me by the back of his shirt and threw him to the ground.
“Get away from her,” Colt growled, his voice making it clear he wasn’t messing around. “You keep your fucking hands off her.”
For a moment the man’s eyes darkened and his pruny face set into a determined expression. “Oh, yeah?” he asked. “What the hell are you going to do about it?” His friend, who was lingering in the background, stepped forward and pulled a knife out of his pocket. The blade glinted as he popped it open.
I gasped and put my hand to my mouth.
But Colt didn’t even hesitate.
He stepped forward and in one fluid movement, knocked the knife out of the man’s hand. The knife went skittering onto the pavement, coming to a rest near Colt’s feet. He picked it up and dropped it into the sewer grate.
The men looked at each other nervously.
“Hey, man,” the one who pulled the knife said. “We don’t want any trouble.”
Colt took one step toward him, and the men went running down the street.
He turned to me.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t. My cheek was throbbing where I’d been hit. The adrenaline was leaving my body and I was starting to feel the pain.
“You’re not.” He cupped my chin tenderly and lifted my face, studying my cheek. “It’s already starting to swell. Stay here.”
He walked across the street to a tiny bodega. There’s an ice chest outside, with a combination lock on it. I watched as he put his ear to the lock, then turned it and popped it open. He reached in and pulled out a handful of ice, then walked it back across the street. He wrapped the ice in a towel that he pulled from his trunk and then pressed it against my face.
I winced at the coldness and tried to move away.
“Stop,” he commanded. “You need to put ice on it.”
I turned my cheek to him and let him put the ice on my face. After a minute, my skin started to go numb, and I began to feel better.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I reached out to take the ice pack from him, because he was still holding it to my skin. His closeness was making my stomach twist itself into knots. I thought about how close I came to kissing him a moment ago, how close I came to wrecking everything, to destroying the only thing that had ever meant anything to me.
“Olivia” Colt said, and the way he said my name made me shiver. “I’m taking you home.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. I can’t… I mean, I’m not going to…” I was babbling and I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. I couldn’t let Colt take me back to the shelter I’d been staying at. It was in a horrible part of town, even worse than this one, and it was humiliating. The last thing I wanted was this put-together, rich guy knowing where I was staying.
“You’re coming home with me.” It was a command.
“What?”
“You’ll stay at my apartment. With me.”
“Oh, no.” I shook my head vehemently. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me.”
“No, I really… I need to get home.” I tried to make my voice sound like I had people there waiting for me, a mother or a father or maybe even both. A roommate or an older sister who would be worried about me, expecting me, wondering where I was if I didn’t show up. Over the years I’d perfected saying “I need to get home” instead of giving details. Usually, it worked. But not this time.
Colt shook his head. “Too bad.” He took my hand and pulled me toward his car. And this time, I let him.
His car smelled of leather and sandalwood, mixed with the spicy scent of cologne. The seats were close to the ground, and I had to duck to get