“Nice to meet ya, Wren,” he says, stopping right in front of me.
He just stands there for a moment, looming, looking down at me while I look up at him. I have this completely ludicrous feeling like we’re about to kiss, and I feel this whole-body warmth spreading through me, from my spine out to my extremities. He bends down and my breath hitches. And then he gets up again, pulling up the giant suitcase that’s traveled with me all over the world for a year as though it were an average purse.
Duh.
Of course he wasn’t going to kiss me. I knew that. I hide the sudden color in my cheeks by moving around the car to the passenger side, while he puts the suitcase in the trunk.
“My dad likes birds,” he says when he gets in and starts the engine. It takes me a moment to realize he’s referring to my name.
“Oh,” I say, and nod. Did he feel that weird moment too? And now he’s making small talk to try and make things less awkward?
Is it me, or is it super hot in this car?
Chapter Two
Lucas
My dad likes birds? My dad likes fucking birds? Did I just say that?
You can’t blame me, though. When I was standing there over her, looking down at her, her big, blue eyes locked with mine, I could have kissed her. Maybe I should have kissed her. I know I wanted to kiss her, but my conscious mind thankfully beat my lizard brain into submission and I managed not to make the gorgeous, curvy redhead think I was a creep or a weirdo.
Well, I mean she might think I’m a weirdo after the “My dad likes birds” thing, but that’s different.
“So,” I say, when the silence has become so uncomfortable that even the prospect of saying something else cringe-worthy is more appealing than basting in it. “You know the area? Got a hotel preference?”
“Yeah, I grew up here,” she says.
“No way. Same,” I say, and we’re off.
She’s 23, dropped out of college when her travel blog took off, much to her folks’ dismay, and she’s been earning a living from that, traveling the world for the last year and vlogging and writing about her experience.
It’s pretty cool, actually, and I’m struggling to find anything to put the brakes on my rapidly curing, concrete belief that it was fate that sent me down that street tonight. Her voice is smooth and mellifluous with just a hint of a squeak every now and then, when she gets really animated.
Too soon, I pull up outside the hotel she’s chosen and get out to get her bag. I bring it to the entrance of the hotel and set it down beside the door.
“You gonna be okay?” I ask. Not that I have any doubt. She spent the last year solo traveling the world. I’m sure she’s not phased by a one-night solo stay at a hotel in her hometown.
“Yup!” she says, standing with her hands in her pockets, like she doesn’t know what to do with them.
“So I’d better get ins—”
“Do you want to get a dr—”
We both start and stop speaking at the same time, then urge each other to continue like some terrible cliché. I insist that she goes first, and immediately regret it.
“I’d better get in and make sure they have a room,” she says.
“Ah, yeah.” I nod, taking a step back. “Of course. You want me to wait to make sure you find a bed?”
She shakes her head. “Nah. There’s other hotels within a short walk. One of them will have a room. But hey, thanks for everything.”
I nod slowly. “No problem. How would I keep up my hero complex if I didn’t stop when I saw a princess in need?”
She blushes a little and laughs at my line, but her eyes are glittering in the street light when she looks back at me.
“You’re cheesy.”
“You’re beautiful,” I say. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”
Her smile spreads to a grin and I’m sure she’s going to say yes, but then her gaze moves away from me for a moment and she squeezes her lips shut.
“Better not,” she says. “Thanks again, Lucas. See you ‘round.”
I’m not sure what’s changed her so quickly, but she looks like someone threw a bucket of cold water over her.
“Here.” I pull a business card from the pocket of my coveralls and hand it over to her between two fingers. She takes it.
“My number. In case you don’t manage to find a room.”
“Thanks.” She gives me a smile, pulls up the handle of her suitcase, and wheels it in through a door that’s opened for her by a doorman.
Back in the Toyota, I light the ignition and pull the mirror down so I can look myself in the eye.
“My dad likes birds,” I say, in a stupid, high-pitched voice, before I slap the mirror back up and pull away from the hotel.
Wren
I wait until I’m inside the hotel to look down at the card. The fact that he’s an auto mechanic surprises me a little. I always imagined mechanics would drive better cars, for some reason. More exciting cars. Although, maybe the kid seats explain why he drives the car he drives.
That was the only reason I said no to dinner. Because even while my core was clenching in response to him calling me beautiful, and my tummy was fluttering at the sight of him carrying my luggage to the door as though it were light as a feather, I still managed to catch a glimpse of those child seats in the back of the car and come to my senses. I've had a brilliant year—the last thing I want to do is end up being side entertainment for a bored, albeit stunningly handsome, married guy.
Even so, once I’m booked in and laying in my hotel bed, I can’t stop thinking about him when I should be thinking about how I’m going to sort out my living situation. Without me even thinking about it my hand slides under the silky sheets and down over my ample curves, between my legs, and I close my eyes and imagine that he did kiss me, and touch me, and take me home.
I slept like a rock last night. Travel exhaustion and the stress of my home situation must have gotten to me, because last thing I remember was fantasizing about the hot savior I’ll probably never see again, and the next thing I was waking up in the hotel bed, feeling refreshed if a little groggy.
I hardly unpacked anything, so it takes me barely twenty minutes to shower, dress and vacate the room. After a hearty breakfast of pancakes, syrup and sausages (don’t judge me, I missed home!), I head out and drag my luggage with me to my lawyer’s office. When he tells me there’s nothing I can do to recoup the money I’ve paid in rent unless I have Bret’s whereabouts, and further that the rent contract was technically my responsibility and reporting the sub-letting to my landlord will probably get me in trouble anyway, I’m far from happy.
I leave the lawyer’s office, still dragging my luggage along, and stop at the window of a rental agency to see what’s available to rent. There’s a good few family homes that are out of my preferred price range, and one shabby studio that makes me think I’d be safer if I took my chances on a park bench.
“Wow, I can almost smell that place just from the photo.”
A tingle runs up my spine as I hear the voice, and I spin around to see him standing there, a grin on his face as he looks down at me. He’s even more handsome in daylight, and he’s clean and fresh in a crisp, pale blue linen shirt and jeans.