“Couples have fights, Myla. We are not a couple, not a real one anyway, I think we both need to remember that!” He snapped as he marched through the bedroom door and slammed it loudly behind him, causing tears to sting at the back of her eyeballs as she grasped her throbbing head.
*
He had run and run, until he had no more left in him. Stopping to chug back some water and wipe the perspiration away from his head, he hunched himself over and balanced his weight on his knees. God, damn you Myla. He had barely slept a wink all night, his mind kept drifting back to replay their kiss outside the club. The way her mouth had felt against his was pure bliss, she tasted sweet, like honey. The way her body had melded to his when he had pulled her closer had every sense in his body frazzled and as much as he wanted to kiss and caress every inch of her skin, he just couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of her in her drunken state. His guts had coiled up and the bitter taste of bile had sat firm in his mouth at the look of embarrassment, regret and shame that had worked its way on to her face this morning once she had started to sober up, and reality had kicked in.
He felt crushed. His emotions and feelings towards her were becoming too much for him to handle.
“Excuse me,” a sweet, angelic voice cut through his thoughts causing him to jolt himself upright and look towards the direction of the voice. “Can you help me?” She asked quietly, walking closer.
Holy cow. An angel. She had jet black hair, scraped into a sleek ponytail at the nape of her neck, bright blue eyes that sat under neatly defined eyebrows and luscious gloss-stained lips. Her tanned skin was donned in a tight white dress, and his eyes became drawn to the long legs that were making their way towards him.
“My car has a flat, can you help me change it please?”
“Uhm …yes …sure.” He smiled as he began to walk towards her car at the side of the road.
“Thank you. You’re British?” She asked flashing him a wide smile.
“Yes, I’m from London, ” he replied grabbing the jack and the spare tire from the trunk.
“I just adore the British accent, it’s so sexy,” she purred, “what brings you here?”
“Right now, Lady, I’m struggling to understand the answer to that question myself.” Sliding the jack under the car, he started working it.
“Do you live around here?” He asked glancing at her leaning against the tree whilst she watched him work.
“I used to. I’m just passing through, tying up some loose ends,” she shrugged with a smile.
Half an hour later and with further small talk exchanged, Kai removed the jack and wiped the grease on his hands, down his shorts. “There you go ma’am, good as new,” he smiled gallantly.
“You are a real hero, and my savior,” she said bending over to rid some dirt from the heel of her shoe. Kai diverted his eyes quickly to the ground.
“Let me buy you a drink to say thank you, there is a wine bar about a mile from here,” she offered. She moistened her lips and slowly ran her hand over her hair.
“It’s cool, don’t worry about it. I’d best be getting back.”
“Yes sure, I’m sorry. Who am I to stop you if you have things to get back to. Thank you for all of your help.”
He watched her walk to the driver’s side and climb in the car, her legs being the last thing to disappear from his view and his mind wandered back to Myla. Anything is better than being around her right now. It’s just a drink. Racing to the passenger door, he swung it open and climbed inside. “One drink?” He questioned with a smile.
“Sure,” she beamed, “what’s your name?”
“Kai,” he replied with a smile.
“I’m Darcy, pleased to meet you,” she smiled back as she started the engine and drove off.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
He was on his second pint already and it had only just gone mid-day. So much for just one drink. He stared at her rapid moving mouth as she continued to babble about how much she would love to see the sights of London, and all he saw was, Myla.
“So, are you going to tell me what you’re doing here in Tallahassee? Or do I have to guess?” She asked letting out a small laugh that she instinctively covered with her hand.
“Huh?” He asked ignorantly, shifting in his seat.
“I’m the one doing all the talking, you’ve barely spoken two words.”
That’s because you don’t take a bloody breath. “Well, what do you want to know?”
“Well, let’s start with what brings you here? So far, all I know about you is you’re British, you paint and you’re leaving to go home in a couple of days.”