Page 43 of Sheltering You

Though she sat across from him, safe and secure, and though Michael and Leila were also safe, as Jasmine related more of the details about their escape from Iraq, through Turkey, and out of Greece, his heart thumped as if the events were happening in real time. As if she were, at that moment, being smuggled over a border in a wooden crate, then bouncing over waves in a raft.

Every moment of that, her life had been in danger. He could have lost her before he’d even met her, and that knowledge raised terror and affection he could no more squelch than explain.

When she finished her tale, he took her hands. “Sweetheart.” The tender word slipped out against his will.

But she leaned close, her fresh scent—floral and intoxicating—overwhelming him.

Something surged between them. She had to feel it. It was undeniable, as if lightning had struck the ground where they stood.

It took effort to remember what he’d meant to say. When he did, he infused tenderness into his voice. “You’re so strong and courageous. I’m sorry you were held captive. I’m sorry you had nobody all those years to protect you. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she leaned a little closer, so close he could feel her breath on his cheek.

There was no question that she felt what he did.

Thank You.

Maybe not to the same degree, but she had to feel something, the way she was looking at him, her gaze filled with longing and affection.

But then she blinked and straightened. “Thank you. You are a very good friend.”

Whoa. What?

Could she really be so indifferent to his feelings?

No.

He wasn’t buying it.

Or was this a cultural thing? Maybe he needed to be clearer, give her an opening.

“Jasmine, I⁠—”

“I have had very few friends in my life.” She pulled her hands away and stood. “In school, people wanted to be friends with Leila. She was outgoing and had lots of energy, the kind of person who drew people close, you understand?” Though Jasmine’s voice was casual, her fingers were clutched together. And she’d gone back to the stilted speech pattern. She gazed around the nondescript room as if she found it fascinating. “People were drawn to her. We were a…a package deal.” She looked back at him. “This is the expression, no? We came together?”

“Yup.”

“When she left, I was alone. And then Mama died, and I got to know Basma. And now there is you.” Jasmine wore an over-bright smile and spoke with a perky tone.

Which told him everything he needed to know.

Jasmine knew exactly what Derrick had meant. And she knew what she was doing. What she was saying. How she was ripping his heart out.

She ended with, “It means much to me to have this friendship.”

A skywriter couldn’t have made it clearer. He could practically see the puffy white words against a bright blue sky.

Not interested.

Apparently, committing a felony wasn’t enough to get a guy out of the friend zone.

And if that didn’t do it, nothing would.

CHAPTER NINE

Jasmine had always been compliant and obedient. She was the good daughter, not that it had made any difference. Not that it had made her parents love her.

But because she’d been good, she’d avoided the physical abuse many women endured. Even her sister had been hit more than once during their childhood, but not Jasmine.