Oh good. No broken legs in today’s plan.
Relieved, I let them tow me outside, onto the porch, feel the sun warm on my skin – on my cheeks, my mouth, my neck, my arms.
I’m a bit shaky, and I hope nobody has noticed. Since my kidnapping by Jeff Adams and the night I spent in the storeroom in the back of the ice cream shop, I have developed a small fear of the dark.
Yeah, I was sedated most of the time I’d been there. But not all the time. And anyway, no idea how brains work. I just know that mine shies away from the darkness these days.
It’s been two weeks since that night, but the fear that I’d die alone without seeing my family or Matt and the kids again keeps resurfacing in my dreams, turning them into nightmares.
Despite the warmth of the sun, the urge to yank off the blindfold is too strong, pressing on my chest. I’m already digging in my heels and tugging myself free of the kids’ hold, when strong hands land on my waist.
“I’ve got you, Tay,” Matt’s deep, growly voice says, instantly calming me, and he lifts me up into his arms. I yelp and throw my arms around him, miraculously managing to snag them around his neck and not punch him in the face by mistake. He swings me off the porch. “Easy now.”
“Matt…”
> “Yeah, baby. Right here.”
“The kids? Those steps are steep.”
He kisses my forehead. “Don’t worry,” he says, his voice warm. “Are you ready?”
“For what? What’s going on?”
“You forgot already what I promised you.”
I snuggle into him, inhaling his masculine scent of musk and spice. “You promised me many things.”
“And I always deliver.”
This makes me laugh. So cocky, so relaxed and playful.
So different from the man-beast I first encountered at this very spot. I unwind one hand from his neck to touch his face.
Without seeing, the sensation of his beardless face is even more intense. Powerful. I trace the line of his jaw, the dimple in his cheek that means he’s smiling. I touch his mouth and he kisses my fingertips.
His lips on my fingers send electric shivers down my spine and heat pools in my belly, starting a throb between my legs.
This man is big, big trouble…
The kids giggle and run about us, and Matt’s steady heartbeat slows my fluttery pulse down until I’m limp in his arms, my head resting on his muscular shoulder.
“So where are you taking me?” I whisper, lulled by the rhythm of his steps over the low-cut grass.
“I promised you a picnic. But our plans were interrupted.” His smile slips. I feel it under my fingertips, hear it in his voice.
“Only put off,” I say. “We’re here now.” I huff. “Why am I blindfolded for a picnic?”
“You’ll see,” he says, just like his daughter earlier, and his smile returns, sharp and wicked. I trace it lightly, smiling, too. “Know what? I like this blindfold on you. It’s giving me ideas for later.”
I tense up a little. “I don’t like it.”
“That’s because you haven’t tried it.” He stops moving. “Or is it something else?” He slowly kneels and pulls me on his lap. “The nightmares. Shit. I’m sorry.”
He pulls the blindfold off me, and I blink, unseeing, in the bright light.
“Don’t be.” The world comes back into focus, the garden, the tree, the red blanket on the grass, the kids spreading dishes and packages. “Not your fault.”
“I’d never have used this,” he waves the black cloth, “if I’d known.”