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“Yeah, a few times….” Drew glances up at me and stops. I watch as his eyes dilate and his lips part. The smoldering fire grows larger, turning into a raging inferno inside me.
Drew shakes his head and looks away, putting back everything he took out of the kit.
I’m about to pull away from his grasp when he sucks in a pained breath and clutches my wrist a little tighter. Drew trails a long, rough finger from my thumb to my elbow, following along the jagged pink path of a very old scar.
“What happened?” he whispers.
Instinctively, I yank my arm away, swallowing down the lump that has formed in my throat.
“Nothing, I’m fine.” Without any explanation, I jump up and wrap my arms around my stomach to keep from falling apart. “Thank you for fixing me, I really appreciate it.”
Memories I’ve repressed for years come flooding back. I bolt for the door, keeping my head down so Drew won’t see the unshed tears that threaten to fall. I don’t discuss that scar, not with anyone.
“Wait!”
I stop right before I get to the door, but can’t bring myself to turn around. I don’t want to go to pieces in front of this beautiful stranger.
“Your jacket.” Drew holds out the torn and bloody remains of my coat. “It’s pretty much ruined though.”
“Thanks. Yeah, it is.” Pulling myself together, I glance at him and take my coat. Certainly, after that display he thinks I’m crazy.
Drew’s handsome face is furrows with concern. “Is that all you have to wear? It’s freezing outside.”
I shrug. He saw what I came in here with.
“Wait here.” Drew holds up a finger to show he’ll be back in a minute. Fascinated, I watch him jog over to the ring as he grabs a shirt and tugs it over his head. I think about what a shame it is to cover it up such perfection and manage a smile. He stuffs his feet into a pair of shoes, throws on a ratty old hat and hurries back over to the door.
“Come on.” He takes my hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his large, calloused fingers curling around mine.
We go outside and the biting cold January air pierces right through my thin shirt. He’s right, it’s much, much colder without my jacket or the benefit of being heated up from running. I have to fight the urge to curl up against his large, warm body.
Drew opens the back door of the same black sedan that Bruce stepped out of when I fell. “Get in.”
I stare at him suspiciously. I can’t get into a strange car.
Drew gives me an exasperated look. “Sydney, I’m going to have Bruce bring you home. It’s too cold for you to walk like that.” He sticks his head in the open door, “Bruce, take her home and then come back here. I’ll be ready to go when you return.”
Hesitant, I fidget on the sidewalk. I don’t know if I should accept the ride. Drew seems like a genuine guy, but this is New York and people here rarely do things simply out of kindness.
“Please.” Drew puts his hands on my shoulders, the contact warming me up a few degrees. “I couldn’t sleep knowing I sent you out on the street to freeze.”
Intrigued to see who would care about a total stranger, I study his face. There’s something about his eyes, an honesty I see that makes me give in. That, and the fact that I’m already shivering violently and I’m still pretty far from home.
“Okay.” With a small smile, I climb into the back seat of the car. “Thank you, for everything.”
Drew leans down toward me, his purely masculine scent overpowering my senses. God, he smells good. “Take care Sydney.” That honeyed voice sends my hormones into overdrive.
He shuts the door and as I give Bruce my address, I catch a glimpse of Drew. He’s deep in thought, rubbing a finger over his lips as he stands alone on the empty sidewalk. Knowing he can’t see me through the blacked-out windows, I watch as we drive away until he’s out of sight.
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WRECK
Book 4
Hawke Evans is the drummer for the Grammy winning Sphere of Irony. The quiet, tattooed and pierced hottie behind a pair of geek chic glasses is hiding a seriously troubled adrenaline junkie with a death wish.
Abby Kessler is studying psychology at UCLA. Her
