Spitfire in Love (Chasing Red 3)

Waiting for what?

And then his porch light flicked off.

I got my answer.

The anger I was nursing inside fell away. Just fell away. But what replaced it was worse.

Rejection.

It felt like a heavy cloak had wrapped around me and a weight had settled inside my chest.

“Fuck him,” I whispered in the dark. “Fuck him.”

I reversed out of the driveway quickly. I should get the hell out of here, but my hands were shaking. My car idled for a moment as I looked down, took a deep breath. Took another.

“Okay.” I nodded. “Okay.”

I hit the gas. And screamed.

“Oh shit!”

I slammed on my brakes hard, my car screeching to a halt. And there he was, standing in front of my car.

The light from the streetlamp lit his face. He looked big and solid, his shoulders wide, his legs long and thick. It had stopped raining, but it was cold outside, and I noticed he wasn’t wearing a jacket.

“What the fuck?” I yelled.

I stared at him, he stared right back. The light revealed the change in his eyes. I couldn’t see the blue of them from the distance, but I knew they weren’t cold anymore. They were wild, intense, and filled with an emotion my heart refused to recognize.

For a moment, I thought about running him over. Oh, I was tempted to. It would teach him not to toy with anyone’s feelings. Or let him know how much he had hurt me.

Then he pulled away, straightened. Slowly, carefully, he walked to my side of the car. There was a ringing in my ears as I watched him stop beside my window. He waited.

He could’ve opened the door. It was unlocked. But I knew that he knew he’d lost the privilege to do that now. He wasn’t allowed anymore.

I looked at him accusingly as he leaned down to face me.

“Kara.”

How unfair was it that his face could still get a response out of me after everything he’d done? Or maybe it was his deep, dark voice that sounded so remorseful. Or his searching, blue eyes. I could tell from them that he’d let his walls down, but not completely. The walls were still there, ready to come back up the moment he felt threatened.

“Let me talk to you,” he implored.

Unbelievable!

“Please,” he added. So softly, so sincerely it made my heart skip a beat.

There was an undeniable pain in his voice that tightened my throat.

When I met him, I knew he was the kind of person who didn’t say please. And I was right. What made him say it now?

I didn’t trust him. My mind rejected anything to do with him. It was telling me to drive away, forget about him. Do the logical thing.

But my heart was screaming something else.

“I…” He lifted his hand as if he was going to offer it to me to hold, but it fell away instead. “You can drive away now, and I would understand. But…” I saw his throat working. His hand shook as he rubbed his mouth. “Please don’t.”

I looked at his eyes directly.