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“Should I be helping you?”
“No. I’ve got this.”
She went down the stairs, glancing behind her to check on him. But he was so sure-footed she had no reason to be concerned.
She opened the stairwell door and it was much like opening the door for him at Avocado, except there was a step.
“Damon, there’s a small step.”
“Yeah, I worked that out on the way up. I tend to wear shoes out toe first.”
He put his hand to the door and stepped down to meet her, turning towards the street front. At Avocado he didn’t use his cane, but she’d seen him come in from the street with it, and if he wasn’t holding his cane, he’d been holding on to Taylor.
“I should be helping.”
“It’s twenty-two steps over a brick path, then there’s two steps over the pavement and a strip of grass, four steps. Assuming the taxi waited in the same place, I should be able to open the door for you.”
“Oh.”
“But if you want to give me your arm, it saves me counting.”
Did she want to? H
e had it all planned out. “How do I do this?”
“Put the back of your hand against the back of mine. That way I know you’re there and you’re okay about me touching you.”
She didn’t need to do this for him, but she wanted to, even if her reasons were less than pure. She stepped closer to him and touched the back her hand to his. He moved immediately to trail his hand up the back of her arm till he reached her elbow. It was such a gently intimate move. This is what she’d seen him do with Taylor and she’d stupidly thought it meant something more, but it was entirely practical.
“If you lead me, this is the best way. All you need to do is be slightly in front of me and warn me about any steps or obstacles.”
It begged to be said. “Like trapdoors.”
He gave her arm a light squeeze. “Particularly trapdoors.”
“Do I just start walking?”
“Yep, and I’ll come with you. If you have to stop suddenly, worth telling me so I don’t walk into you.”
She started forward and he was half a step behind. He had aftershave on, the perfume tantalising. How much better would it be if she could put her nose to his neck and drag that scent into her lungs? His hold on her arm was so light to be almost not there at all. Her body wanted to simply stop and lean back into him. She imagined his arms folding around her, settling her against his chest, tucking his face down against her cheek.
“Everything okay?”
Hell. She’d come to a complete stop in the middle of the pavement. “Yes, fine. I’m sorry.” Her face burned.
“You don’t have to do this.”
She swallowed and focused. He’d dropped her arm. She could try the back of the hand thing again or she could walk a few steps and open the taxi door for him. Damon was the one who needed to worry about tripping, but she was the one doing it.
“I’ve got the door.” She took a few paces over the grass and opened the door, ducking her head to smile at the driver.
Damon stepped forward and reached his hand for the door, trailing it along the top edge to the car roof. “I’d say after you, but you’ve ended up before me.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this.”
“And you’re not Sam, so things could be a lot worse for me.” He ducked inside the taxi and she stepped around the door and slid in beside him.
He gave the driver the address and turned his head to her. “Sam got me locked on a rooftop in the rain for two hours after he forgot I wouldn’t be able to see the plaque with the security code to the fire stairs written on it. He left me in a supermarket queue that didn’t move anywhere because the cashier had gone on a break and I didn’t see the next aisle sign. He got off a train without me once and I ended up five suburbs from where I was supposed to be. And he set me up with his cousin.”
