The air was cool and although she was wearing a sweater, she shivered. Removing his jacket, he put it around her shoulders and then took her hand again.
“You’ll need this,” she said, turning as though to shrug out of it and give it back to him.
He knew he wouldn’t need it. Not for the warmth. He was burning up.
And darkness was his cover.
She hesitated, but let the jacket stay where it was. Let herself accept the gift. And he could feel her struggle. Like she had to fight, constantly, to accept anything from anyone.
“I washed your windows.” The asinine comment blew out of him.
“What?”
“The day after you were talking about not getting to the outside windows. I came over and washed them for you.”
What the hell was he doing? Trying to piss her off?
Or ingratiate himself? No, not that. Definitely not that.
“Oh.” She didn’t miss a step. Didn’t drop his hand. But she was quiet for a minute or two and he couldn’t gauge her mood or come up with any guess as to what she was thinking.
“I didn’t notice,” she finally said. “I’m sorry. And thank you.”
All appropriate responses. But he wanted the truths she held inside.
“I shouldn’t have been on your property without letting you know. Shouldn’t have touched your house without letting you know.” One more block to the beach. They couldn’t get there soon enough. Maybe he’d take a headlong dive into the ocean.
“So why did you?”
“Because I wanted to help you and had a pretty strong suspicion that if I offered, you’d refuse.”
She chuckled. “You’re probably right.” Then, shaking her head, “I know you’re right.”
He didn’t want her agreeing with him. He wanted her writhing beneath him.
“I took away your choice about making that decision,” he said, feeling as cantankerous as he ever got. Playing to the victim in her, even though he was taking advantage of his private knowledge about her. His secret knowledge.
It was all to remind himself that their playing field wasn’t level. To make her less into him because he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to say no to anything she offered.
But one less secret felt pretty damned good, as it turned out.
“Being a friend means having someone’s back enough to know when that person needs help,” she said.
Oh. God, what was he going to do with this woman? The minute he felt he had it all under control, she surprised him again.
In ways that captivated him.
They’d reached the sand. Kicked off their flip-flops, leaving them on the edge of the sidewalk. No one else was out, but the beach, reserved for homeowners in the neighborhood, which included Miranda’s cottage, seemed to beckon them.
Not only were the waves rushing in to shore, but lights shone out on the ocean from some kind of vessel, and the shoreline in the distance was dotted with lights from houses and establishments. The sand was cold between his toes, in direct contrast to the heat of her hand in his.
“You need your coat back,” she said as a breeze lifted the hair on his head.
“I need the fresh air,” he told her. And then said, “You ever listen to older rock bands? You know, the classics?”
“Like the Eagles?”
“Yeah, or Kansas. They have this song, ‘Dust in the Wind.’ You ever hear it?”