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“Wait.” He takes a step toward me, reaching out. “You came to check on me?”
“Yes.” Is that so weird?
He’s still staring at me as if I’m from another planet. Colors shift in his eyes, shades of blue, from the hue of a cloudless sky to the turquoise of the lakes and the dark blue of the ocean. Emotions—shock, doubt, anger, then a tiny flare of hope.
It’s as if he doesn’t trust my words. As if he doesn’t think I’d care enough to check on him, and the thought makes my heart ache.
Micah touches my cheek, his fingertips trailing on my jaw. A faint smile curves his lips. “Come with me.” He takes my hand and tugs me toward the exit.
The guy behind the desk whistles, and there are a few more catcalls from the booths. A fresh wave of heat goes through me—but it’s mostly from the feel of his strong hand around mine, the heat of his skin piercing me like a flash of lightning.
As we leave the carpeted area of the shop, my stick taps on the floor, and Micah turns to look at it.
His smile fades and he stops. “What the hell happened?”
I shrug. “Twisted my knee a little. It’s still not entirely healed from the accident, so...”
“My fault,” he whispers. “You ran to get away from me, and then this happened.”
“No.” God, no. “Not your fault.”
His jaw works. “We can talk another time. This—”
“Have coffee with me?” I didn’t plan this, and have no idea what makes me so bold—but I don’t want to leave, not yet. His closeness is like the summer sun, warming me.
He hesitates, his hand still around mine, strong but gentle. A strong emotion darkens his sky-blue gaze, but it’s one I can’t name. “But can you walk? Can you—
“I’ve been on my feet all day. The stick is just to help my knee heal faster.” Christ, Blake was right. Who will want a cripple like me?
His jaw clenches. “You’re not a cripple. Who’s Blake?”
Oh God, did I say that out loud? Crap. I did. “Nobody.” I want to clap a hand over my mouth, to keep any more words from spilling out, but Micah has my fingers gripped tightly in his and doesn’t let go when I try to pull away.
“Come.” He tugs on my hand again, and I follow him outside, not even looking up.
My stomach is like a stone. Only I could screw up like that with the hottest guy I’ve ever met up close.
And it shouldn’t matter. I didn’t know why he was watching me before, but now I think I have a good idea. That fleeting emotion in his eyes I couldn’t identify before?
I’m pretty sure it’s pity.
Chapter Five
Micah
Fury heats my chest and clogs my throat as I draw her out of Damage Control and onto the street. A cripple? Who’s this asshole who thinks he can tell her such a thing? As if it should matter to anyone that she limps. Besides, she’ll heal.
I’ll take care of her.
And whoa, where did that thought come from? I think I’m losing my mind with this girl, and I don’t even know her name yet for sure. Can’t even be certain it’s the one I dream about.
Well, at least that’s easy to fix.
I want to go faster, get off the street, find some place quiet and ask her. But she’s slow, hampered by her walking stick, and she seems lost in thought. I take the time to study her heart-shaped face, the long sweep of her lashes over her bright eyes, the elegant arc of her neck and her pouting upper lip...
Oh fuck. She’s so sexy. I try to look away, but my gaze is drawn to the swell of her breasts under the stretchy cloth of her hoodie, and my body tightens. What would her lips feel like, pressed on mine, and how would she taste? How would her naked body fit against mine?
I shiver and force my mind on other things, like the honking of the cars, the pigeons fluttering on a roof, the shape of her small hand in mine...
