“I’ve seen yours, so how about I show you mine?” He winks, and I raise my eyebrow at him because I know exactly what’s coming next. “It’s big, I assure you.”
“Oh god,” I groan. “Quite the class clown, aren’t we?”
The unknown man stands to his full height, and Istillhave no reason why I’m entertaining this bullshit. I could just kill him and entomb him and my father together, which is what my brain is telling me to do.
My conscience, however, is the calmest it’s ever been.
Not a single fearful flutter in my stomach.
My nerves aren’t on high alert.
My heart isn’t beating aggressively against my chest, either.
Growing up with an abusive father meant I needed to be vigilant, prepared, and observant. Ihadto be. There was no other choice. Because I knew the moment I let my guard down, I’d be terrified he would do something worse, and when he finally did—even though I never saw it coming—I was still prepared to fight until my last breath.
Except with this guy, I’m just… overwhelmed with the feeling of being able to trust him. Plus, his good looks are really helping the situation right now.
At least he’s not bad to look at.
I wonder if he would be up for some fun.
What the hell are you saying, Heather?
I ask myself.
What? He’s hot.
Oh great. Death by good looks. That’s a new one, even for you.
Shut up, he’s staring at you.
Say something, then.
No, you say something. He’s looking at you. Answer him, damn it!
“Huh?”
Smooth, Heather. Real smooth.
“I asked if you were okay? You zoned out there.”
“Apart from some creepy guy stalking—”
“I wasn’t stalking you,” he protests, shaking his head. “I was… watching you.”
“Oh, that’s a lot better.” I snort. “And the same thing.”
“Fine. So what? It’s hard not to look at someone as beautiful as you are.” He says those words so easily it makes me want to believe them.
“Are you really trying to pick up a killer at a boneyard?”
He shrugs playfully. “Maybe.”
“What an odd little meet cute this would be to tell the children.” I snicker, because this guy can’t be serious.
Maybe my danger radar needs retuning.
“Look, why don’t you lower the knife, and I’ll show you my—very dead—body?”
