She looked up at me. I found her eyes startling. They were a lush green, alive and clever and sharp. And they totally arrested me.
She is so familiar, I kept thinking.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
“No,” I replied right away. Even this far out they'd probably gotten news reports. Articles on Yahoo and MSNBC and whatnot. I’m sure my face was plastered all over them.
Ever since I left, no woman had caught my eye. My journey so totally absorbed me that I never spared a second glance for anyone.
Not until this moment. What’s so special about her?
“Do you know me?” she asked, a curious light in her eyes.
“Not that I can recall,” I said, surprised at her question. Those eyes of hers goaded me on, though, putting me on the defensive. “I think you remind me of someone I used to know, is all.”
“Oh,” she said, not quite sounding like she believed me. While the desperate fear was gone from her eyes, I could see her hands shaking from the adrenaline, her pulse thrumming in her throat.
We both looked when the men lying on the sidewalk around us began stirring.
“I should go,” I said, starting back towards my motorcycle.
“Come with me,” she said, her eyes darting over my body too quick for me to read her impressions. “Let’s get you something warm to eat. You look like you need it. And I can take a look at that cheek.”
“Really, that’s okay. I… have somewhere to be,” I said.
She put her hands on her hips. “Really? Where?”
That dumbfounded me. It was just one of those polite things that people say to each other. One of those things that have no real meaning, just a nice way of begging off.
“Fine,” I relented. “I can stay for a minute. But just a minute.”
“Sure,” she said, exhaling a little. “We’ll just go up the road. Follow my truck.”
She jumped in and started the old Ford up, the engine roaring, and pulled away from the curb. I sat astride my bike and pulled my helmet on, wincing once more when the soft interior padding brushed over my aching cheek.
I was hungry. And my cheek did hurt. She might offer me something, like a bag of frozen peas or the like, that I could press against it.
Even just the thought of something so pleasantly cold against the hot pain had me shuddering in anticipation.
I’ll take her up on the offer, but then I’m out of this place, I thought. I stood up and then brought my weight down on the bike’s kick starter, giving the throttle a quick twist to prime the engine. It sputtered to life, growling between my thighs.
Then I’m out of here, I thought again, pulling out and catching up to the truck.
.
Chapter 4
ELLIE
I needed to go back to Abby’s and grab my laundry. I hoped that Bobby didn’t remember that I left them. Now that she really had a reason to be angry, he might take out his rage on the only clothes I owned.
Thinking about that made me resent my mysterious savior.
Still, he had helped. The least I could do was get some food into him and give him some ice for that bruise starting on his cheek.
I tried to not think about what nice cheeks they were. What a nice face he had, in general.
I pulled into the gravel driveway of the old two-story that I lived in. The swing on the porch squeaked on its hinges when the breeze caught it.
Then I got out and waited. The biker pulled in behind the truck. In spite of myself, a little thrill of excitement ran up my chest when he swung off the saddle and pulled his helmet off again.
Also in spite of what he said before, I thought he did know me. And somewhere inside, I thought I knew him, too. I just couldn’t place him yet.
He looked out of place in that armored riding suit.
“Let’s get inside,” I said, walking up the steps to my front door.
He followed me in, and soon we both sat at my kitchen table.
“So where are you headed?” I asked.
“Someplace,” he replied.
“Funny. Pleasant isn’t really on the way to anywhere in particular.” The interstate bypassed the town by a good handful of miles. You had to take various country and back roads to even reach the town.
The old-timers liked it that way, though. Kept the place quiet.
My mysterious stranger, sitting from me across the table, was the most interesting thing to happen to the town since I could remember.
I went to the freezer and grabbed one of those cold packs that I used to keep my lunch cool, and put it on the table in front of him.
He grabbed it and began raising it to his eye. I reached out and put my hand over his before he could. He frowned at me.
“You have to put something between it and your skin, otherwise the cold will burn you,” I said.
I grabbed a dish towel from the drawer by the sink, took the pack from him, and wrapped the pack with it. I handed it back and he set it gingerly against his bruise.
“Thanks,” he said.
“You have a name?” I said.
“I do,” he replied. I saw the hint of a grin there, followed by another hint of surprise. I don’t think the stranger was used to humor or smiling. Not for a while, anyway.
This one had a story to tell, I knew. Some baggage he carried around on the broad shoulders of his.
“I’m Ellie,” I started, “Ellie Granger. Since you have a name, I’d like to hear it. I can’t keep calling you ‘the stranger’ in my head.”
His eyes roamed the kitchen. It was a small, neat space. Varnished countertops and cabinets. A single sink. Range in the corner. A humble space, but it was mine and I kept it clean.
What do you have to hide? I wondered. I could see some of what he thought. He wondered if he could trust me, if maybe he should give me a fake name.
Finally, those green eyes of his came to rest on me again. “Dash,” he said.
“Dash what?”
“Just Dash.” He tried a different angle with the cold pack, winced, then sighed at the renewed coolness against the bruise. “Was that hayseed really the sheriff’s son?”
“Of course. Why would I lie about something like that?” I said.
“People have all sorts of reasons for lying.” He shrugged.
I crossed my arms and leaned back against the padding of my chair. “Why won’t you just tell me your last name?” I looked harder at his face. Yes, there’s something so familiar about him. “Are you sure we haven’t met before?”
“I really am just passing through,” he said, meeting my eyes with his. It was a steady gaze. “My last name is my business. And no, we haven’t met before. I’d remember if we had.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“I never forget a pretty face,” he said. He smiled. Or started to, anyway. It turned into a wince when it tugged at his bruise.
I knew it was just another deflection. He really didn’t want me to find out more about him. Still, it was hard not to feel a little giddy at a handsome stranger paying me a complement.
“Oh, please,” I said, rolling my eyes. It was a bit more exaggerated than I’d intended. Men were trouble, a fact I knew all too well.
And this guy looked like heaps of trouble. A lone biker with a chip on his shoulder. Scratch that, not a chip, a whole damn boulder.