Red Nights - Shari J. Ryan Page 0,13
some warmth.” Maybe if he just keeps talking, the sound of his voice will continue offering the comfort I’ve been missing. God, I hate to ask why he thinks I’ve been crying. Do I look that awful?
Despite my reluctance, I reach for his coat and drape it over my shoulders. “What makes you think I was crying?” I ask, buttoning the coat over my chest, inhaling the delicious scent of fresh laundry and cologne.
“You’re sitting in a dark park alone at night,” he says. “And you’re staring at the sky as if it holds all the answers.” That’s my giveaway? “Plus,” he squints at me. “I think you have a bit of black make-up streaked over your cheek.”
Nerves ignite in my stomach. This is humiliating. I slap my hand over my cheek and rub at my cool skin, desperate to hide the truth.
“It’s the other side.” He laughs softly and moves in closer. “Here, I can help.”
He reaches over, but I pull back. “You might be a creep, remember?” My heart hammers at the thought. Maybe I am an idiot for sitting in a dark park alone at night. I’m asking for trouble. My gut is twisting and turning; I know I should walk away now, but I want to feel this guy’s touch more than I’ve wanted anything in the past week. Maybe it’s the sound of his voice, or the way his smile is hesitant, but I’m having a hard time convincing myself that Hayes is a threat.
“You’re right,” he says. “I did warn you of that possibility. Here.” His fingers wrap around my wrist, the warmth of his hand soothing some of my apprehension. “Give me your finger, and I’ll show you where it is.” I loosen my clenched fist and reach my finger out. With the slightest bit of pressure, he moves my finger up against my cheek, letting his knuckles sweep against my lips. His skin smells like fresh mountain air, and his touch is soothing. This man is making my heart pound so hard I can hear my pulse vibrate in my ears.
I remember now: I’m supposed to be wiping away the mascara streaked down my cheek, not basking in the sensation of his touch.
I rub at the spot for a minute before he says, “You got it all.”
I’m with a guy I don’t know in the middle of the night, and no one is around to hear me scream if I need help. Come to your senses, Felicity. This isn’t some fantastical love story where danger and rapists don’t exist. “I should get going. My roommate has probably sent a search party out to look for me.” I clutch his coat, ready to peel it off and hand it back to him.
“I wouldn’t worry…a search party wouldn’t consider you missing for at least twenty-four hours,” he says, his eyes burning into mine as if he just noticed something deeper, something more in them. “Anyway, I hope whatever you’re going through gets easier.” He places his hand on my shoulder, halting my attempt to remove his coat. “Hang on to that so you don’t get cold walking home.”
“I don’t feel right taking it from you.” But it’s the most comforting gesture anyone has shown me in a very long time.
He laughs softly and takes his hand from my shoulder. “I have a feeling I might see you again. And if I don’t, I’ll at least know you’re warm.”
CHAPTER FOUR
I WISH MY DISTRACTION with Hayes, the Shadowed Stranger would have lasted a little longer. Even with the slight easing in my chest, I realize that my life is spinning out of control. I don’t know who I am or what the hell I’m doing. I don’t sit in dark parks in the middle of the night. I don’t flirt with total strangers who offer me their coats.
Maybe I should consider it more often.
I’ve been sitting in the same position on the couch for the past five hours, staring at the wall, begging my mind to stop racing between the photographic images of Blake and the moonlit smile that temporarily made me forget everything.
As if my thoughts are loud enough to be heard, Aspen steps out of her bedroom, half-asleep with her hands up in defense. “Don’t worry,” she groans. “I won’t ask you where you were last night, and I won’t tell you I waited up for you to get home because I was worried.” She lowers her hands and wraps her arms around herself,