Ignoring the mental ping-pong between what I’ve heard and what I see, and what I should do and what I shouldn’t do, I focus on the fact he came back to town in the middle of the night to make sure I’m okay.
Clasping my hands in front of me, I shake my head. “They didn’t come back.”
Nodding his head, his eyes drop to the ground. “Good.”
Silence stretches between us for a few moments, and I’m not sure I’ve ever had such an awkward encounter with a man. If I didn’t know better, I would say the nervous feelings swirling around us are coming from some kind of inner battle he’s having.
Maybe he doesn’t really want to be here. Maybe he’s regretting coming back right now and doesn’t know what to say.
Feeling the need to let him off the hook, I sigh. “You didn’t have to come back here, the inn is just a five-minute walk, and there are streetlights the whole way.” I wave my hand in the inn’s direction, and he turns his head to look down the street lined with tall lampposts.
Squinting his eyes like he does, he takes a slow, deep breath, his head still turned in the direction of the inn.
I’m not sure what to say, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable. He’s put both hands in his front pockets, and his shoulders are closer to his ears. He almost looks… afraid.
“Okay, well, thanks for checking on me. I’ll see you later.” I give him a small wave and turn to walk down the sidewalk.
I only get a few steps before he calls, “Wait.” How can one word sound like an order and a plea simultaneously?
My heart flutters in my chest, and I stop. He’s walking toward me as I turn around, his hands balled at his sides like he’s looking for courage. “Can I walk you?”
The first thing that happens is that my chest and my stomach try to see which one can distract me the most with their calisthenics, and my second thought is if walking will cause him pain.
He seems so sincere. This side of him is so different from the man I just witnessed coming to my aid earlier tonight, it’s hard to see them as the same person.
Cocking my head, I try to pretend that he didn’t just make my entire night and wave my hand at his truck. “Would it be more comfortable for you to drive me?”
It’s subtle, but the small droop in his shoulders tells me I’ve said the wrong thing, and regret squeezes my heart. Maybe he wants to walk? I just don’t want him to be in pain.
With a small nod that almost looks like one of defeat, he turns to go back to his truck. With that small, simple movement, I feel like he turned a light out, and I desperately want it back on.
Before he can step away from me, I quickly follow up with, “But we can walk if you want to. Actually, I prefer to walk. I just… I thought…” Stopping my embarrassing babble, I pause and take a breath before I lift one shoulder with a smile and clear my throat. “Would you walk with me? I would like that.”
His lips tip up on one side, and he nods. When he steps up on the sidewalk next to me, the top of my head is just over his shoulder. I walk slow to let him set the pace, just enjoying being next to him for the next five minutes.
At first, the only sounds are the crickets and tree frogs, but I ask the one question I probably shouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. “How did you hurt your leg?”
Tension drops on the silence like a strong wind before he takes a deep breath, and I feel like a jerk. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t ask, you don’t have to answer that.” Ducking my head, I scratch my forehead. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I babble when I’m nervous, and that includes asking questions I shouldn’t ask.”
He suddenly stops, making me stop, and turns to face me. “You’re nervous?”
Oh my God, can this get any more awkward? My face has turned scarlet.
He stopped under one of the big old-timey streetlights that looks like a lantern hanging from a hook, and if I can see the slight grin on his face, he can see that I’ve turned beet red.
Trying to hide my embarrassment, I look away and push some wayward hair behind my ear. I feel like a schoolgirl, and I’m sure I look like one, too.
Nothing sexy or sultry to see here, folks, move along please, thank you.
He softly pinches my chin between his thumb and finger, turning my head back to face him. His fingers are warm, but his skin is rough against mine. “Why are you nervous?”
I clear my throat again. “All I know about you is what people have told me.”
He winces. “Anything good?”
Squinting one eye, I give him a dubious look before resisting the urge to clear my throat. “Not really.”
He turns his hand so he’s cupping my jaw in his palm, and his thumb slides across my scarlet cheek, leaving a trail of fire on my skin that I’m pretty sure I’ll feel tomorrow, while heat warms my center. His eyes roam over my face before he drops his hand and meets my eyes.
