It’s the logical thing to do.
A reasonable thing to do.
Go.
But it’s like I’m glued to the spot.
Matthew lets his hand drop, his eyes holding mine from a distance, like a hostage.
He’s the first one to move, his long legs eating the distance between us.
His hair is messy, sweaty strands curling against his neck.
Swallowing hard, I lower my window. Matthew presses his hands against the top of my car, those brown eyes taking me in.
“You didn’t answer my messages.”
His voice is low, sending a shiver down my spine. The subtle scent of cologne mixing with sweat reaches my nostrils. It should smell appalling; after all, he’s clearly been running for quite some time, and yet it doesn’t.
“I got busy. I’m not sitting around waiting for you to text me.”
Not anymore.
Understanding flashes in his eyes. He tilts his head slightly, those dark eyes narrowing on me. The silence between us stretches, and I can see the muscle in his jaw tic.
“Then what are you doing here, Jessica?”
A snort escapes me. “You’re askingmethat? When you’re the one running in the dark?”
He quirks his brow at me. “Worried about me, Trouble?”
My lips part, color rising up my cheeks at his question. That smug smile only grows bigger, so I quickly press them together. “You’re not that lucky,” I mutter dryly.
The jerk only grins wider, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Mhmm… No need to be worried. I carry a gun and can handle myself. If anyone even thinks to come after me, I’ll have them on the ground before they can blink.”
His words paint a picture in my head that I should find unnerving considering I can’t stand violence. So why does mymind bring up an image of me on the ground with Matthew hovering over me?
“Still so modest, I see.”
“I just tell it like it is.” He shrugs, trying to play it off, but I can see the strain on him. His shoulders are stiff, teeth clenched, arm muscles flexing as he leans against my car. It’s almost as if he’s trying to keep himself on the leash.
What is going on with him?
It shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t be thinking about him. He certainly never thought about me. But I can’t help myself. I’ve always seen past the mask he shows to the world.
The question slips out before I can think it through. “What do you get out of it?”
Matthew blinks, almost like he’s thrown off by the change of subject. Not that I can blame him.
My heart is thundering wildly as I watch him, waiting for his answer.
His tongue slides over his lip as his expression grows distant for a moment. I think he’ll brush me off, but he surprises me.
“I need them to take me seriously.”
“Them?”
“Jenkins.” He lifts his hand, running his fingers through his hair, and messing it up even more than it was. “He doesn’t think I’m serious. This fucking town doesn’t take me seriously. Not about this job, nor sticking around. All of them see me as that teenager who was causing trouble around town all through high school. I need them to know that I’m here, and that I’m here to stay.”
