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“Guess that’s one way to warm up,” mutters another.
I end up pointing at myself, stabbing my chest, and saying my name as I keep him steady with my other hand. “Holly. Who are you?”
“I’m… I’m not sure,” he eventually mumbles, looking at me intensely before loosening his grip and looking at his hands, suit, and finally, his shoes.
“Well,” I announce, deciding that finding a man like this is way better than any wallet full of money. Unfortunately, I reckon we only have one choice.
“If you don’t know who you are and you don’t want the cops or an ambulance, there’s only one thing to do.”
His mouth forms into a smile, and he touches my face again, making me shiver from head to toe. My palm grips his huge fingers, wanting to do more than just press them against my face.
“You’re right,” he groans, going to touch his head injury again but already pained by the thought.
“…I’m coming home with you,” he rasps, gripping my arm even harder, and urging me with a jut of his chin. He leans heavily on me, squashing my chest with his forearm as I try to speak, let alone take in what he’s just said.
“What!” I finally gasped.
I was thinking more along the lines of seeing what else he might be carrying to identify himself.
“I’m coming with you, Angel. You’ve been good luck so far.”
“It’sHolly,” I remind him, glancing up, wondering if maybe he has a screw loose as well as a bumped head.
“Holly,” he grins to himself thoughtfully, pulling me a little closer as I try to keep up between his giant steps.
“Like Christmas.Holly…,” he says again. The sound of my swallowing so hard it drowns out everything else.
Even drowning out the pounding of my heart against my ribs as I walk double time to keep up with his huge steps, strangely enough, in the direction of my apartment.
Almost as though he knows the way himself.
CHAPTERTHREE
Steve
Leaning heavily against her, I can feel more than just the head on my shoulders pounding.
Laying there, even for just a minute, while my head’s in her lap, hearing her soothing tone and warm hands.
I forget where we are, and the swelling at the back of my head is nothing compared to the one inside my pants.
I cover it with some of my coat once she helps me get me up, but surely she can feel it?
Pressing harder into her soft body with each step, it seems.
My grunts and groans aren’t all pain either, but I can’t tell her that when she looks up at me, asking if I’m okay for the hundredth time.
But I know already I could never get sick of hearing her voice.
Quite the opposite.
Not only did no one else stop to look, let alone help, but she happens to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
And no blow to the head could make me see her differently.
Even if I don’t really have any idea who I am right now.
I mean, I know I’mme.
