I shoved ahead of her and opened the door that led to the lobby, then the door to outside.
The early morning was as black as midnight. A cool breeze carried through the air, a brief reprieve until the blazing sun came up.
Sunny’s long curls whipped around her face as her pace quickened down the steps. The woman was practically running away from the station—or away from me. Either way, Sunny was beelining it somewhere.
“Do you have a ride to your car?” I asked from the steps.
“Yes,” she hollered back, her focus staying ahead.
I looked around the parking lot. Only a few cars, and none were running. I glanced over my shoulder at no one coming outside, keys in hand. It was then that I realized Colson had eithernotoffered her a ride, or she’d declined.Based on the way she shot out of the interview room, I assumed the latter.
“Is your driver on his way?”
She didn’t respond.
I jogged to catch up with her abnormally long strides, making me wonder exactly how long they were, and how they would feel wrapped around my waist. This led me to wonder what time it was and how long since I’d eaten or slept.
I was losing my mind. I was literally chasing after a woman, a first for me.
I wish I could say it was the last.
Sunny stepped onto the sidewalk that led to Main Street. The streets were bare, storefronts black. It was that unsettling time of night, or early morning I should say, when darkness seemed to envelop everything, including sound.
The street light short-circuited above her as I finally caught up.
“Take it easy, Flo-Jo. Where’s your ride?”
She ignored me, laser focused on her destination, wherever that was.
“Didn’t the doc tell you to take it easy until your body heals?”
“What are you doing?” She asked, narrowed.
“Trying to keep up with those stilts you call legs.”
“I mean, why are you following me?”
“You’ve never had a gentleman walk you to your car?”
“I told you I had a ride.”
A crack in the sidewalk caught her toe. She stumbled forward with a sharp gasp—a strangled sound that punched through the night like a wounded animal.
“That’s it.” I stepped in front of her, blocking the path. “I’m going to touch you, Miss Harper. Please don’t flip me onto the pavement.”
She didn’t argue. Didn’t even lift her chin. Which told me more than words—she was in worse shape than she let on.
I started slow. Fingers to forearm, then a steady arm around her back.
“This is what’s going to happen,” I said, lowering my voice. “I’m going to lift you. Slowly.”
“No.” Her voice cracked, barely audible.
“Yes,” I said, already counting down. “On three.”
“No.”
One…”
