AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I cup my hands over my ears and watch as he grabs the handle and, keeping a palm on the door, closes it silently with his body weight. Through my earmuffs I hear the metallic click of the door engaging, and know it’s shut.
He didn’t want the door closing to make my headache worse.
When he’s in the driver's seat and clipping his own belt, I find his eyes across the cab and hold them. “Thank you,” I say, tipping my head back toward the door without breaking eye contact. “That was thoughtful.”
He nods, then faces forward, assessing the windshield. After starting the car, he twists the defroster knob and asks, “Where do you live?”
I reach out and access the GPS on the touch-screen mounted to my car. It’s not a great car but after moving to the city, I knew I needed GPS or I’d be stuck in the maze of uphill streets for the rest of my life.
Tapping the button that says “Home,” the GPS begins spouting off directions as a list floods the screen.
With a careful look at the screen, he returns his focus to the windshield, waiting patiently for the icy windshield to dissipate under the heater. Once it’s clear, he backs out and follows the robotic female voice directing him to my apartment.
I keep my eyes closed most of the ride, trying to avoid the bursts of brightness from bold street lamps and traffic lights. He drives slowly, and I don’t know if that’s how he usually is or if it’s for my head, but some deep part of me really believes it's the latter of the two.
Tuck sang his praises, telling me what a kind and talented man he is. I smirk to myself in my clouded reflection of the passenger window. He isn’t interested in me, he’s just… a true gentleman.
“Thank you again for driving me. I hope you don’t live far. Can I call you an Uber?” I ask as he turns the car into the small parking lot behind my apartment, where the GPS guides him. There are only a handful of parking spaces here, and he idles between them as he turns slightly to face me.
“Which number are you?”
“One.”
He blinks at me, and for some reason, a flutter takes off in my belly, making my arms and fingers tingle. “I’ll walk. It’s not far.”
“Are you sure I can’t—” I want to offer the Uber again, in hopes that he takes it. How can he do something so nice for me and ask nothing in return? But I guess this is what Tuck meant when he called Cohensolid.
“No Uber. But I will be making sure you get inside,” he says after steering the car into the center of my parking spot. He unclips my belt then his. “Stay there.”
When he appears at the passenger door, I move to push the door open but he opens it for me, before I can. He extends a hand to me, and I stare at his palm for a few seconds. This is the second time our hands have come together, and it rocks me to my core. It’s kind and nurturing and everything I could wish for. It’s a startling contrast to the touch I have felt for so long from Pete.
I take his hand, and he gives a gentle tug, helping me to my feet. My head whirrs and I clutch Cohen’s forearm to steady myself. Waiting, he looks down at me. It’s then I realize just how tall he is, hovering at least six inches above. “You lead,” he says, his words slow and quiet.
I nod a little, and move us toward the stairwell.
“Apartment 1 is actually upstairs,” I tell him, still holding his hand with one hand and clinging to his bicep with the other. My head hurts as we take the stairs like an elderly couple, I’m glad I have him to hold until we’re at the top.
On the landing, his head swings between the two apartments, located directly across from one another. “Which is it?”
It occurs to me now that they aren’t currently numbered. I point to mine. “They’re being repainted externally so they took the number plaques down. That one’s mine. The other is actually empty.”
Cohen releases my hand before slowly sliding my purse down my arm, placing it on the ground between us. He motions to the contents of my bag as he crouches to access it, looking up at me.
“May I get your keys?”
Asking permission before going through my things. I blink down at him, registering the fact that men like him even exist. “Y-yeah, please.”
In response I get a single nod, then watch him carefully sift through my purse until he plucks a ring of keys from it, passing them up to me. I can’t look away as he rises and brings my purse with him.
I fumble the key at the lock, which earns more concern from Cohen. “Can I help you?” he offers.
“I got it.” The key trembles in my shaky hand but finally, I make contact and manage to unlock the door. I step inside but immediately spin to face him. “Thank you for the ride. I genuinely appreciate that.”
I smile but he doesn’t. He just does this small dip of his head.
Cohen is tall and strong. I felt his disciplined muscle as I clung to him coming upstairs. He’s handsome with a full head of sandy blond hair, and eyes meant to get lost in displaying an endless sea of emotion. And he’s standing here, in the dark, with me. Not trying to barge in and claim restitution for the ride, not looking at my tits over my sweatshirt.
“Well—” I start but he lifts a big hand and motions to the lock.
