Looking around to get my bearings, I saw that we’d reached the Maritime Museum, and the end of the path. I turned west so I could head back to my car. The tension in my shoulders worked its way up my neck. What a shit start to the day.
After two steps, I ploughed into a solid object and landed hard on my arse. I was on the ground with my legs splayed out in front, while my arms were braced behind me, the skin on my palms being sanded down to the flesh beneath.
"Shit! Are you all right?"
The gruff bark was alarmingly close. I wanted to scurry away like a crab. I tried to push myself up with my hands, but it was like trying to touch fire. The pain in my backside screamed, ‘GET THE HELL OFF!’
I rolled over onto my knees and elbows, hearing the unmistakable sound of guffaws coming from my petite, little stalker, as she enjoyed my predicament. Smart arse. Rolling from side to side with her knees curled up to her chest, she was lost in a fit of laughter. A scowl took up residence on my face, and right about then, I realised that I was showing my best side to the obstacle in question. I dared a glance over my shoulder. Yep. From under the brim of his cap, I distinctly saw a mouth twisted to the side trying its damnedest not to smirk.
"Can I help you up?" The amusement in his voice was obvious.
I turned my face back to the ground. "No, you’ve done enough.” He’s only trying to help, it’s not his fault. Don’t be a bitch. “Thanks," I added, screwing my nose up at the word.
"Your hands are bleeding." His big body knelt beside me, engulfing me in his energy. It spun around him like a vortex, beckoning me into its core.
Whoa. That pushed my red, panic button and the alarms in my head blared. I needed to wipe my palms, and not only because of the blood. The inside of my cheek took the brunt of my anxiety instead.
"Yup … got that. Thanks, Sherlock. I have tissues in my pocket. You can go." In case you missed the sarcasm, you have been dismissed, mister!
"You fell really hard. Just let me help you up so I can see if you’re able to walk back to wherever you're going, or if I have to call a cab."
He sounded like he was trying not laugh. Bastard. I was growling on the inside. Why isn’t he taking the hint? I was pretty sure I'd bruised, if not broken, my tail bone.
It. Fucking. Hurt.
The rubberneckers were starting to congregate. I looked up for a second and saw a couple of sweaty, middle-aged men leering at my backside. Their lewd thoughts slithered along my skin like a hundred leeches looking for a meal. I shuddered, and I found myself embracing the stranger’s energy like a shield.
With a resigned sigh, I nodded my head. He wrapped his hand around my arm, infusing my skin with a feeling of safety, and a wave of anticipation. Like everything was going to be okay if we remained in contact. I'd never felt at peace with anyone, besides my granny. A stranger’s touch usually, triggered a sick feeling in my stomach. As though some of their negative energy had seeped into me, infusing me with their worries and pain.
I didn’t like the message my body was sending me in response to his touch. He pulled me gently to my feet, but didn't let go of my arm. Annoyed, I tilted my face up to glare at him, and give a curt ‘thank you’. But the retort dissolved on my tongue. Thick, dark, bronze eyebrows were cranked low over grey eyes that bored into me. They completely sucked me in, removing me from the world … removing me from my pain. I wanted to slump in relief, but I was frozen. I never wanted to stop looking at his beautiful face. My eyes flitted around his features. The rusty stubble over freckled skin, shiny with sweat. A scar over one eyebrow, denying space to any hair that might want to take up residence. Pale, pink lips. His top lip was slightly thinner than his bottom lip, with more freckles splattering their surface.
He gave me a small smile, somehow breaking through the wall I hid behind. I must’ve looked like a stunned guppy fish, standing there with eyes wide, mouth wide, and forgetting that I was trying to shake my arm free.
You will spend the rest of your life with this man.
The knowledge hit me from somewhere unknown, imprinting in my long-term memory. Like an ice-filled bath, that realisation snapped me back to a very cold reality.
Oh, Shit. I'm out of here.
I yanked my arm out of his grip. "You know what? I think I'll be fine. Thanks for the massive bruise. Bye." My words ran together into an incoherent jumble.
I turned gingerly and waddled away, wincing not only from the pain, but from my foreboding premonition. Even though I was hobbling away at a snail's pace, he didn't come after me or say anything more. But I felt his concern dragging at me.
I couldn't help myself. I glanced back and saw him, arms tensed by his side. His mouth was set in a tight line as he frowned, and his eyes were locked on mine. I had no doubt that he felt whatever this was, too.
Christ!
