The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,20
lady.” He inched closer again. “You seem alive to me.” He recalled the way his palms had slid over her warm curves; certain her mind had also slipped to their previous interaction. “Very alive.”
Her pupils flared.
“The truth is,” he added quietly, “I don’t have any secrets, and I don’t care about yours.”
The salesclerk turned from his tedious shelf-stocking task, and suddenly Hagan remembered that they weren’t alone. The overhead lights glared. Store announcements loudly grated over his senses. She yanked her shopping cart to face the opposite direction.
His pulse picked up. There was no telling if they’d cross paths again. “Not even a goodbye?”
He expected her to storm off and watched her knee carefully. But she simply stared into the cart and let her scarf obscure any facial expressions. An urge to move to her side nearly won out, but he forced himself to remain still. “If you’re hiding from someone, I’m not that person.”
The salesclerk looked between them and apparently decided it would be a good time for him to leave. Hagan waited until the man disappeared before stepping closer. “I’m not a threat. But if you’re hiding from someone—”
Her shoulders squared. “I’m not hiding,” she snapped. “I don’t hide.”
“Okay.” He lifted his palms in surrender. “Just like you don’t say goodbye or have friends.”
“I operate within the boundary of specific restrictions.”
“Yeah, that definitely doesn’t sound like you’re hiding.”
“And,” she continued, “even if I didn’t abide by those rules, I wouldn’t say goodbye to a stranger when I walk away."
“We’re not strangers.” The corners of his lips twitched. “We almost got to second base.”
Her lips parted with a gasp that went straight to his groin. “I don’t know you.”
“You must’ve had one hell of a day not to remember pulling a gun on me.” He inclined his head. “And we can’t forget that little incident that may cost me my future children—”
Her cheeks flamed. “All right. We’re not strangers.”
“Glad we agree.” He waited for her to storm off. For every second she remained, his confusion multiplied.
She rubbed a hand over her face, quietly laughing. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Glad I’m not the only one feeling that way right now.”
Her fingers pressed to the base of her throat as her lips parted, unintentionally setting his insides on fire as if his blood had turned to lava. Invisible sparks crackled. The air seemed heavy and hot. “Give me a straight answer about dinner.”
She blinked hard and stumbled back, as though he’d shaken her from a dream.
“And don’t tell me ‘I can’t’.” He took a step closer. “Yes or no: I want to get to know you, and I want to take you out.” He tried to get a read on her and had no idea what she’d say. “Would you like to have dinner with me this weekend?”
She licked her bottom lip, and for a half-second, his ego readied for a swift shutdown. But she didn’t say anything, as if she couldn’t.
He had to look away, rubbing a hand over his face.
“I…” Her brow furrowed. “Well…”
Hell, he didn’t want to make her squirm. “Wait. Different question.” He changed tactics. “How about…do you want to go to dinner with me?”
She grinned, and Hagan almost threw his arms into the air. But then he saw the moment she pulled back. The sparkle in her eyes dulled, and her warm smile seemed a burden to hold in place. Something hummed in his chest. “I’ll meet you again in the stairwell,” he suggested with a laugh. “This time, I’ll have showered and will bring food.”
Her eyes softened. “Really?”
“Sure.” He lifted his shoulders—then his skin went cold. Her bottom lip trembled, and he worried she might cry. “Are you okay?”
Her spine straightened. She reached for her shopping cart like it might roll away. “I have to go.”
With a white-knuckled grip, she shoved off. Blindsided disappointment crashed over him.
She stopped abruptly and turned. “Have a good night.” Tension pinched in her words, as if she’d forced each syllable out. She offered a small, painfully cute wave. “Goodbye.”
Her struggle was painful to watch. Why the hell couldn’t she hold a conversation or make a friend? Hagan balled his hands and shoved them into his pockets. “Are you okay?
“I appreciate what you said and the invitation—” Her voice wavered.
“Seriously.” The back of his neck tingled. “Are you okay?”
“I just wanted to tell you to have a good night. Goodbye.” She hurried away, only slowing at the end of the aisle to sweep the perimeter, then disappeared.
What just happened?
“There he is,”