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Shocked, I watched as he tossed my bag on the ground alongside his before lowering the zipper on his designer-looking jacket and shrugging it off.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I strangled out, teeth chattering from the cold.
“What do you think I’m doing?” he countered as he reached behind me and placed the hood of his jacket on my head and wrapped it around my shoulders. “You’re getting soaked out here.”
“But you won’t have a jacket,” I blurted out.
“But you will,” he shot back. “Now, are you going to put your arms in the sleeves, or am I going to have to do it for you?”
When I failed to assist him—quite frankly I was too stunned to do anything other than gape at him—Johnny grabbed both ends of the jacket and zipped it up to my chin, leaving my hands trapped at my sides, the empty sleeves swaying beside me.
He pulled the hood forward, covering my hair from the rain, and then reached down and grabbed both of our bags.
“Now,” he said, nodding his approval as he tossed a bag over either shoulder. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home. Ma’s probably waiting down by the gates.”
“Your mother?” I squeezed out.
“Yes,” he replied. “My car’s in the garage for service.”
“But I don’t know your mother,” I blurted out. I tried to flail my arms out for emphasis, but the zipped jacket gave me little room to do so.
“You know me,” was his response.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but Johnny strode off down the footpath—with my schoolbag.
“Move your legs, Shannon,” he called out over his shoulder, not looking back at me. “Before we both get struck down with pneumonia.”
I was so gobsmacked by his actions that I did exactly what Johnny told me to.
I moved my legs.
Hurrying after him, I weaved around the rain puddles and cracks in the pavement. It was hard enough to keep up with him in my two-inch heels, and damn near impossible to keep my balance with my arms trapped to my sides.
“Crap,” I squeaked when I miscalculated a jump and landed in the freezing puddle.
It wasn’t a regular puddle, either. No, this was an Irish puddle, consisting of a good five inches of muddy, sludgy, ice-cold rainwater. Immediately, the water began to fill my shoes, making it unbearable to walk.
Hopping on one foot, I wrestled an arm out beneath the jacket and pulled off my shoe. Tipping it upside down, I watched in dismay as a slosh of water spilled out. My poor sock was drenched through. My calves were specked with leaves and brown slush.
I groaned in dismay as I slipped my foot back into my shoe, then proceeded to empty the other shoe.
“What are you doing?” Johnny called out from up ahead of me.
“There’s water in my shoe,” I called back, while muttering a string of curse words all directed at the Irish weather. “I can’t walk in them like this. Just give me a sec—whoa…”
My shoe slipped from my grasp and I lunged for it. Bad idea considering I was balancing on one foot and my arms were trapped.
Feeling like a noodle, I managed to snag my shoe midair, only to lose it again when I couldn’t find my footing. My shoe flew out of my hand and I flailed backwards, trying and failing to keep myself upright.
Knowing it was a lost cause, I gave up the battle and braced my body for the impact I was sure to feel. I fell backwards, my ass grazing the concrete for the briefest moment, before I was heaved back up.
With one hand fisted in the front of the jacket I was wearing, Johnny quite literally held me hovering off the ground like my body was something obscenely miniscule and weightless. It wasn’t. I weighed six stone three pounds, but you wouldn’t have guessed it by the way he dangled me from one arm.
“Nice catch,” I finally breathed, looking up at his face with a mixture of shock and admiration as he held my entire body up with one hand.
His lips twitched. “Thanks.”
“Well, you’re definitely better at catching than throwing.”
