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My response is to obey as we scurry up the stairs. He pushes the door open, sending his door’s bells into an angry clattering chime.
He huffs as I sigh. I take in the honey-colored walls and brown wooden trimmings. This place is exquisitely adorable, exceptionally clean, and smells like coffee and hazelnut.
“What are you even doing out there?”
This man sounds angry. I glance at him as he shakes out his umbrella and sets it on the floor to dry.
“I had no idea there was a storm coming. I’m coming from—“
I stop as he meets my eye. For heaven’s sake, this kind of man exists in dreamlands. What is he doing existing in real life? I try not to hawk over his bone structure, but he has a jawline only reserved for actors who played male counterparts in my grandmother’s movies.
His eyes, similar to the hue of the stormy sky, sweep along my body. As a reporter, I typically exude an aura of confidence even if I have to force myself to. Right now, I feel like a homely little girl, docile as a scared mouse as he asks me in a strict teacher voice,
“Where are you from?”
I swallow, clear my throat, swallow again and say, “Los Angeles.”
I glance at his strong hands, noting there’s no wedding ring. Why the hell am I even thinking of that when there are three thunder rumbles that sound like they’re directly above this house?
“You drove all the way from there?” There’s amusement in his question.
“No. I came from the airport, heading to Evergreen.”
“Welcome. You’re here now.”
He steps out of a pair of galoshes and slips his socked feet into black hospitality shoes.
¨Wait, I’m already in Evergreen?¨ I sure hope so.
¨Yes, this home is the farthest place east of Evergreen. I’m Joaquin.” He extends his hand.
I shake it. It’s warm and strong, and his fingers linger on the base of my wrist. It’s like he wants me to remember this.
“Nice to meet you, Joaquin. I’m Nadia. Nadia Vitale Gusev.”
His gray eyes ensnare my entire face as if searching for something that belongs to him.
I give him a sweet closed-mouth smile, but happiness doesn’t seem to come easy for him. I wonder where the small child fled to. Exactly how old is Joaquin? Is there anyone else around?
“Nice. Nice to meet you too.”
He manages to say, but it comes out like a struggle. The antique glass lanterns throughout the space flicker on and off. And there it goes. The power is now out.
Chapter 2
Joaquin
“Ihavecandlesdownstairs.Luckily it’s not too dark right now.”
I glance at the rare beauty. I did not expect anyone like her to be in that Jeep. I can’t deny her looks are stifling, but what was she thinking driving on these roads with no companion? Someone could’ve taken advantage of her. These are the back roads where the south touches the Midwest, not her land of plastic.
¨Get comfortable. I’m not sure how long you’ll have to stay here, but I have coffee, scones, and muffins.¨
¨Do you have any idea how long this storm is supposed to last?¨
Her voice is soft but direct. She sounds like a meteorologist, a personality on TV. She looks barely thirty, but her mature tone has me thinking otherwise.
¨All night. That’s what’s being reported. Another one is expected tomorrow. I’m surprised they’re allowing planes to land at Joplin.¨
