Page 8 of Saving Wyatt

It was then I realized he wasn't the one to catch me. No. It was someone else.

I looked right in front of me, to the man who had stopped me from face-planting the dirt road underneath me, and I sucked in a big breath.

Standing before me was the most handsome man alive. Tall, dark, and handsome was an understatement where he was concerned. His trimmed beard framed his chiseled square jawline to perfection, yet didn't take away from the kind brown eyes staring back at me with concern.

"It's okay. Take it easy," he said in a foreign accent that sounded somewhat familiar, yet I couldn't quite place it.

Definitely not while he was holding me for dear life.

"Mmhmm," was all I managed and followed his instructions as he breathed in and out.

"That's great. You're doing great," he said, and a zing of heat, an energy of pure desire, shot down my body, making it harder to breathe instead of easier.

I stood there for what felt like a century, gazing into his eyes and him gazing into mine. It was intense, yet it felt completely natural, as if we'd been doing it for a whole lifetime.

I licked my lips and sighed deeply, savoring this moment, this view, when my brother walked into my field of vision and I realized what I was doing.

Shit.

"Uhm...I...feel better," I said and pushed myself away from that hunk of a man and stood on my own two feet, even if the ground felt unsteady in his presence.

"What happened?" Warren asked, and it took all my willpower to look away from the handsome man.

"I...I don't...I've been up all night. I'm probably hungry. Haven't eaten anything."

My stomach chose that moment to growl again, only helping my story. Although, to be honest, it wasn't a lie. I had felt lightheaded before the man caught me. The problem was I was still lightheaded, but for entirely different reasons. Reasons that I could feel staring at me and causing my body temperature to drastically rise.

"We should get you into the car. Maybe we should grab some breakfast?" the gorgeous man asked, and I had to fight with myself not to gape at him.

What was wrong with me? I'd never been like this in all my life. I knew how to control myself. I was never a desperate, horny man. I wasn't a victim of my own desires. I knew how to keep a straight face both figuratively and literally.

What was it about this man that made me forget myself? My very old self. I had years of practice being composed.

"What do you think? Should we get something to eat? I'm hungry myself," the man said to Warren, and I took a moment—just a second—to admire the shape of his face, the cheekbones, the ruffled hair, the thick eyebrows.

"Yeah. Me too," Warren replied and turned to me.

Thankfully, this time I managed to pry my gaze away before I embarrassed myself further.

I'd already made a fool of myself. Hell, I'd made more than a fool of myself. I'd almost collapsed, and this beauty of a man had caught me. As if I was a damsel in distress. Like a fucking princess.

"You two know each other?" I pointed from one to the other, and Warren smiled.

"Yeah, this is my friend, Ari. I told you about him," Warren said.

I narrowed my eyes and stared at my brother, trying really hard not to look at Ari, searching my memories for a mention of a friend.

"The doctor?" I asked. "You've got a van on Main Street, right?" I couldn't resist. I looked at him, and my knees went weak again.

This time, I didn't let myself collapse, though. I'd been enough of a clown for the day.

"Indeed. I have a mobile outreach van. I'm trying to help those who can't afford insurance."

I offered him my hand and steeled myself so his touch wouldn't affect me. "I'm Wyatt," I said. "Nice to meet you."

"I’m Aristotle. Aristotle Speliopoulos, but you can call me Ari. And it’s nice to finally meet you too," he said, and I cursed myself.

Because of course his touch made me feel things. Things that couldn't be described nor tamed. Not for long, anyway.