“Why not what?”
“Why didn’t you give a good description of me to the police?”
I sigh. “... I didn’t remember.”
“You seemed to remember me just fine when I had you pinned up against the wall.”
An angry burst of energy explodes in my belly. I whip around and face my confronter. From on my knees, he looks even more massive. I’m stunned for a moment. “It’s not hard to remember a face when it’s being shoved into yours,” I snap, finally breaking out of my intimidated stupor.
The man’s steely eyes study me. I watch as he shoves my phone into the front pocket of his dark grey jeans. “Hey...” I start to protest, before giving up. I’m never going to see that phone again.
“You want your phone back? Then cooperate.”
I sneer. “What are you, some kind of dirty cop?”
The man sneers back. “You wish.”
“I wish you’d leave me alone,” I hiss, placing a hand on the nearby wall. Slowly, I pull myself up, worried that, at any second, I might be pushed back down.
My legs are trembling, but the fire in my belly is still raging. I study the stranger. He’s standing just far enough from the light of the open doorway to get a good look. He doesn’t look much different than how I remembered him in the shower earlier...
... His wavy, ear-top length hair is a dark shade of auburn, as is his neatly trimmed beard—it all frames a pale, chiseled face filled with rugged character. He has an Irish nose and red glistening lips. His neck is thick and his shoulders are so broad that I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t see him from end to end on a foggy day.
I’d been right to remember him as a beast—but I had also been right to remember him as one sexy son-of-a-bitch. The bastard has me at war with myself. The rational side of me is begging him to leave, but there’s something else stirring deep within my soul.
If I really want him gone, then why do I feel so excited by his presence? Sure, there’s a hint of fear throbbing in my heart, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins isn’t saying run—it’s saying fight, it’s saying touch.
Still, I don’t dare get any closer.
“What do you want?” I ask, letting my stance relax as I lean against the hallway wall. My lungs are on fire. I need a second to gather myself. The least I can do is bide my time.
The man hesitates, as if he’s considering my question with great effort. “What’s your name?” he finally asks.
Now it’s my turn to hesitate. The cops already have my name, and I have very little doubt now that they’re about as crooked as a witch’s nose. If this guy wants to know who I am, he probably only has to find the right price for it. Still, I don’t want to be the one to give myself up.
“You’re not in danger,” he says in response to my defiant silence, as if that’s supposed to soothe me.
“I beg to differ,” I whisper, immediately wishing I had said it with more force. I don’t feel like I can show any weakness in front of this guy. He seems like the kind who crushes the weak, and I have no desire to be crushed tonight.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he rumbles, and the war inside of me picks up for another battle. I almost believe him. Almost. I wrap my fingers around my throbbing wrists. I’m not hurt, per say, but he’s left a dull ache on my skin.
“I’m sorry,” he grumbles, with a weird mix of sincerity and annoyance. I swear, for a split second, I can see the same flash of something soft beneath his gaze that I thought I had witnessed last night. “... You did have a knife, though.”
He has the knife now. He plays with the handle like an expert butcher while the blade glimmers in the light from the backroom office.
“You did break into my diner, though,” I counter.
He lifts a dark eyebrow. “You own the place?”
I snort. “I wish.” Almost immediately after those words leave my mouth, I regret the playfulness of them. This isn’t the time for banter, I tell myself, forcefully seizing up again. I take a small step backwards, away from the stranger. It doesn’t matter how handsome a man is, even the good-looking ones can gut you. This dude’s bad news.
“Why are you still here?” he asks. I still can’t get over his voice. It’s so deep and domineering: a perfect match to his mysterious and brawny figure.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I retaliate. “In fact, I will. What the hell are you doing here? What the hell were you doing here last night? I’m not looking for trouble.”
“I am.” He takes a step forward. His shadow somehow darkens around me. I catch myself before I can bite my lip. Every limb on me is trembling, even if only subtly.
“Well, I’m not the trouble you’re looking for,” I say, trying to sound far more confident than I feel. “So, you’d better go look somewhere else.”