quirked at the corner. His lips were free of blood, but the top one was still split. I had no idea if he was silently laughing at me or if I’d done something stupid. Was it the gentle way I’d handed him the phone? Because I’d been careful with him? Or was his head filled with fantasies as devious as my own?
He watched me for a few beats as he held the phone against his ear. I tried to look away, honest to God, but his swelling face, and that one blue, blue eye staring me down held me captive. Then his eyes sank shut in a show of relief.
“Nat, it’s me. I got into a tangle and lost my phone.” He surveyed his T-shirt. “And my coat. I need a ride.” A pause. Then, “How close are you to Ridgeway?”
He’d gotten into a “tangle”? My heart skipped a beat as I pictured him launching a fist into another guy’s face. That should not be sexy.
“Tequila,” he mumbled, sparing me a glance.
If he was drunk, it was news to me. He didn’t smell like liquor, and his speech wasn’t the slightest bit slurred. Maybe he’d walked off his buzz from the bar to here? How close was the nearest bar? I frowned as I tried to picture the local dives, the image of Devlin in a bar fight not jibing with the kind of guy I thought he was. Then again, I didn’t know him. He could be as dangerous as I suspected. Dangerous and devastating.
Devlin the Devastating Devil, my mind chanted. Oh. I liked that.
You shouldn’t.
No kidding.
“Eight-oh-two Crane Lake Run.”
I blinked at him. He’d been lucid enough to recall my address… to find my address? Had he come here on purpose? Witnessing my perplexed expression, he pointed over my shoulder in explanation. A copy of Us Weekly—my guilty pleasure—sat in clear view on my magazine pile, my address in plain sight. But how had he found me to begin with? That was the real question.
He gave “Nat” general directions while I wondered if Nat was a Nat, as in Nat King Cole, or a Nat, as in Natalie Portman. Had he called his girlfriend?
He ended the call and eyed me with a long, hard look. “I’m going to wait across the street at the office.”
“No,” I argued, “it’s too cold.”
He lifted my hand and slapped my phone into it. This close, I could feel the heat radiating off his body. He’d warmed some since he’d come in, but he’d freeze out there in short sleeves. His fingers left my flesh, grazing the back of my hand and leaving a warm chill behind.
“Take this.” I yanked the multicolored throw off my couch.
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Just take it,” I insisted, shaking the blanket. “For me.” I couldn’t bear the idea of him being cold. When I’d helped him in earlier he’d felt like a slab of prime rib pulled out of the walk-in at Oak & Sage.
“You’ve done enough, Rena. Explaining you”—he pushed my arm and the blanket to my chest—“or this situation to Nat would be… complicated.” He lifted his eyebrows as if waiting for me to pick up on what he was saying.
“Oh. Oh.” Natalie. Most definitely. Inexplicably, my heart sank. I’d done nothing wrong and Devlin was nothing to me, but the idea that he and I never would be anything but coworkers stung like lemon juice to a fresh cut. I would know. My opening work yesterday had been slicing the lemons into wedges. The acidic juice stung my cuticles. Yeah, it felt like that, only in the vicinity of my heart. I wondered if he would be there tomorrow for my shift. Thinking that he wouldn’t crushed me in a way I couldn’t explain.
“I’ll see you at work, then,” I said, hearing the hope in my voice as I curled my arms around the blanket he’d refused.
“Yeah,” he said, turning from me and pulling open the door. “Maybe.”
Chapter Four
Devlin
After dodging work, and Sonny, for a few days, I knew I had to go to him today. I hadn’t wanted him to see the worst of my injuries. Not that they looked good now, but I couldn’t exactly avoid him any longer. Outside a small pizza place on the west side, I squared my shoulders and walked in. I wasn’t scared of him, but I knew to go in with my confidence intact if I expected to sell the lie I was about to tell him.
I never