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Yeah, getting hit by that would’ve sucked.
And likely resulted in moremurdering me worse.
He growls and I jerk my head from the sight of the behemoth of a vehicle to glance back…
And fall into the prettiest hazel eyes I’ve ever seen.
I want to grab my camera, want to take a close-up of those irises, to study all the shades of gold and brown and green, the texture of the peaks and valleys beneath his cornea, the—
He blinks and I lose my focus, dropping abruptly right back into my reality.
Which is going great, considering that my car is buried on the side of the road and I just spent the last half hour digging out my door enough so I can get Steve’s stuff from the back seat.
A muscle flexes in his jaw. “It’s dangerous for you to be out here.”
I sigh, bite back my sarcasm, and push down the last supremely shitty twenty-four hours. “Look,” I say calmly. “I appreciate your concern—and thank you for not hitting me with your car—but feel free to move on. I’m staying at a house on Forest Bend, and now that my door’s open, I can grab my stuff from the back and hike up there.”
He freezes, looks me up and then down, and I want to pretend there’s heat in those gorgeous hazel eyes instead of derision. Unfortunately, I would have to pretendreallyhard for that to be true.
“That’s fucking stupid,” he says.
I blink once.
Then twice.
Expecting him to not actually be calling me stupid.
People didn’t seriously do that to each other’s faces.
They wait until they’re in private and confide it to their best friends, and occasionally their sisters, who they want to be close with, if only their sisters didn’t—
Right.
Not the time.
Eyes stinging, I shake my head and turn away from him. “Well,” I say quietly. “It’s not like I want to stay in my car and freeze to death out here.”
“You have a cell phone?” he asks sharply.
I frown, rotate back to face him. “Yes.”
“Then you stop being stupid,” he snaps. “You call for help. And you”—he leans in, bending at the waist so we’re almost nose to nose—“wait in your car so that said help can come and you don’t get hit by my fucking SUV.”
My frown deepens.
But then my eyes start to sting again.
Because who can I possibly call?
I have no one except for my best friend, Ella, and she’s already done enough in arranging for me to stay in her brother’s house, has already done enough in plenty of other ways over the years, over the last twenty-four hours.
Rescuing me from my shit.
But I’ve had enough of this conversation—such as it is. I’ve had enough getting yelled at, enough scornful words tossed at me, enough disdain dripping in my direction, and I’ve just…hadenough.
“Thank you for not hitting me with your car,” I say so politely it’s as frozen as the snow coating my clothes. I spin back to my open car door and reach for my purse that’s fallen behind the driver’s seat, slinging it over my shoulder. Then I unbuckle Steve from his doggy seat, coax him to hop back to me, and snag his leash from the floor, intending to clip it on him.
But I don’t get it attached.
