Tryst (6 page)

Talie

Twenty minutes. That’s how long I sat in my car, looking into the mirrors and wondering what the hell that man was doing.

Twenty minutes of torture was quite enough. So I positioned my keys between two fingers, with the pointy end sticking out
, and called up 9-1-1 on my phone just in case I needed to place an emergency call for help. Even though it was summer, the air felt slightly chilly as I climbed out of the car. The breeze off the water made it feel cooler than it really was.

There was no point in tiptoeing. We were out in the wide open. He would see me coming. Besides, I wasn’t trying to hide. I wanted to know what the hell he was doing. I walked closer to his car, gripping the key in my hand just a little bit tighter. As I drew closer
, I saw a dark shape shift in the driver’s seat.

He was sitting in his car. Why the hell was he sitting in his car?

The window rolled down with ease (his window actually worked) and his voice drifted toward me. “Need something?”

“Yeah
, I need to know why you’re sitting back here like a creepy stalker.”

“Are you this suspicious of everybody?” he asked.

“Just of men who sit around on empty streets, watching women,” I remarked. Maybe if I had been suspicious of the men in my past, I wouldn’t be sitting here now.

He sighed and then from somewhere in the car
, he produced what looked like a Blow Pop. I watched as he unwrapped the candy to reveal a red sucker, which I knew was filled with gum. He slid the candy between his parted lips and rolled it from one side of his mouth to the other. When it settled, the side of his cheek puffed out, creating a lump.

It was the first time I’d ever seen a grown man eat a sucker.

It seemed completely wrong the way he made something created for a child to appear sinful and inappropriate. I watched as he twirled the stick in his oversized hand and drew it out through his lips.

Something in my stomach hollowed out as I watched
, and the center of my palms grew sticky.

“I’m not gonna hurt you
,” he said, his voice low.

I believed him.

‘Course, we already established I wasn’t the best judge of character.

“I’m just gonna sit here until the tow truck comes. You know
…” He leaned out the window and tipped his head back a bit. I caught a better glimpse of his face.

Strong jaw. Unshaven. Angular cheekbones.

“Just to make sure no one tries to kill ya.”

He grinned. His teeth glowed against the night. A little chuckle floated between us and then he stuck that red lollipop back into his mouth.

I squeezed my legs together. Suddenly, I felt really squirmy, like standing still was impossible.

“You’re just going to sit there?”

“Yep.”

Alrighty then. I walked back to my car but stopped halfway there and looked back. He hadn’t moved.

I felt confident enough to place my cell in the front seat of my car. But rather than climbing in, I went around to the front, where the hood was still open. There was really no reason to leave it that way. I wasn’t going to fix it. I would just let the mechanic do that. Hopefully I could get the tow guy to drop me at Aunt Ruth’s place before carting my car off to wherever it was going to go.

I slammed the hood shut and stared down at the traitorous metal. If I didn’t need it to drive back to Raleigh
, I’d tell them to take it to the junkyard.

“Stupid car that stupid Blake insisted I keep for just one more year
,” I muttered. “
Just one more year and I’ll buy you whatever you want
.” What kind of man buys himself a brand-new car and let’s his wife drive a bucket of bolts?

I spun away to stomp back to the driver’s seat. But I didn’t make it very far. My foot got tangled in the ruined drive belt coiled on the ground. I pitched forward, the stupid thing refus
ing to let me go. My arms shot out as I tried to balance, but it was no use. I went tumbling over, tangling up in the black strap even more.

I let out a screech and hit the ground
. The hard-packed dirt was jarring against my side. I rolled, trying to get up but couldn’t. I pushed up onto my hands and feet (kind of like a downward dog position) and lifted one sandal-clad foot up and over. The belt pulled taut and sent me falling to the side. Unfortunately for me, I rolled down a hill.

I probably shouldn’t have parked so close to the bridge and where it started to rise because the ground started to fall away.

I think I hit every pebble, every shell, and every stick on the way down the short little hill. “Ow!” I yelled as the stuff poked at me.

I skidded past a large bush of some kind
, and I reached out, grasping it around the base with my hand. Finally, I stopped falling.

I
lay there breathing rapidly, blinking the dirt and sand out of my eyes.

“
This is what I get for trying to get away on vacation,” I muttered as I yanked myself up into a sitting position. Not far off to the side was the water. If I’d kept going, I would have splashed right into the sound.

Squeezing pain cut into my thoughts as I became aware of a portion of the shredded belt wound around my ankle. It was being pulled and cutting into my skin. I rolled sideways, pulling the length out from under me and reaching down to untangle it from my skin.

Stinging from a few scrapes and cuts on my short-clad legs presented itself, and I sighed. I fought with the chord for long moments, unable to get it off. I was about to yell in frustration when the dark shape of a man came over the hill and started toward me.

I knew it was the guy who wasn’t going to kill me. I gave up on the belt tangled around me and watched as he stepped down the short hill with ease. He looked so graceful and self
-assured, and here I was a lump that couldn’t even close the hood of her car.

I was about to tell him I had the situation handled when he crouched down beside me. His closeness was unsettling. Not because I was afraid, but because I liked it. It was almost like a cloud had drifted and revealed the sun. The heat coming off his body was
intoxicating. I hadn’t even realized how cold I was until he showed me.

“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked.

“No, I’m just tangled up.”

He shook his head and pulled out what looked like a
Swiss Army knife from his jeans. The moonlight glinted off the blade when he flicked it open.

My hackles raised as my heart started to pound
when he reached for me. I jerked away and he grunted. “I’m going to cut you lose. Don’t move. You’ll just get tangled more.”

His fingers worked their way between my skin and the taut piece of chord wrapped around my ankle. I shivered and he paused
. I felt his stare from beneath the brim of his hat, but I didn’t dare look up. I couldn’t. If I did, he might see I wasn’t shivering because I was cold.

His skin was smooth. Smooth as satin. There wasn’t a callous or
rough spot on his hand. Even though he had to squeeze his touch beneath the belt, he was still gentle, like he honestly cared if he hurt me.

“Hold still,” he said again, this time his voice a mere whisper. With a deft hand
, he slid the blade under the chord and within seconds sliced through the bind. Once it was cut, he worked quickly to unwind the rest from my leg.

After he tossed it aside
, his hands skimmed down my calf and my eyes closed. When was the last time someone touched me? Like really touched me?

I didn’t know the answer.

And that realization made me incredibly sad. Emotion welled up in me and I fought against it. This wasn’t the time to cry. This wasn’t the time to decide I was some withering violet, because I most certainly was not.

“
Are you cut?” he asked, smoothing his hands over the area that had been confined.

I cleared my throat. “I don’t think so.”

“Is it around you anywhere else?”

Was it wrong I wished it was? “No.”

He removed his hands quickly, and I felt like a complete idiot for wishing they’d lingered. “Good,” he said, standing. On his feet, he towered over me, making me feel vulnerable and weak. I didn’t like to feel that way.

I started to stand and he reached for me, slipping his palm beneath my arm
, and lifted, helping me to my feet. Even after I was standing, he kept hold of me, guiding my steps as I freed both my feet from the rest of the shredded belt.

“This is your fault
, you know,” I told him, kicking at the black stuff.

“My fault?” he choked.

“You’re the one who piled this crap on the ground where I could trip and fall.”

“Sweetheart, I’ve known you all of five minutes and even I know you would trip and fall over the wind. You certainly didn’t need my help to go rolling down this hill.”

I pulled my arm from his grasp, suddenly hating the way my body tingled beneath his touch. “Whatever,” I retorted (yeah, it was the best I could come up with) and stomped up the hill.

When I got there
, another pair of headlights was approaching and a large tow truck pulled up near my car.

Thank God.

I waved my arms just so he was sure he had the right car and then hurried around to the driver’s side. A man wearing a pair of board shorts and a T-shirt stepped out. He didn’t look at all how I expected him to look.

Yes
, I was stereotyping.

But my idea of a tow truck driver wasn
’t some twenty-something man with a surfer outfit and sunglasses on his head (even at night).

“Car trouble?” he asked.

“Yes. I think it’s the drive belt. But it could be more than that.” I gestured to the Jetta.

“You have a place you want me to tow it?”

“I’m not from around here. I drove in from Raleigh.”

“How long will you be here?”

“About a week.”

He nodded. “Well
, my dad owns a small garage in Surf City over on the island. He could have it fixed for ya before you leave.”

“That would be wonderful,” I said, thankful the car could be fixed so close by.

“Sweet,” he said. “I’ll just get ya towed up. Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

Suddenly
, nerves got the best of me. Here I was accusing the last man who stopped to help me of trying to kill me, so how did I know this guy wasn’t just pretending to be a tow truck driver? Maybe he didn’t have a dad who owned a garage. Maybe he had a dad in county lockup, doing thirty to life for murder.

“Uhhh,” I said, trying to stall as I thought it through.

“Rand, is that you?” the guy in the hat said, coming around the truck.

Rand laughed. “Yeah
, dude. What the hell you doing here?”

“I saw her car and stopped to see if she needed help.”

“Righteous.”

You know you
’re at the beach when some “dude” says righteous.

“You working with your dad now?” he asked the kid, who seemed younger and younger as the minutes passed.

“Nah, just doing him a favor.”

“Sweet. Well
, I’ll leave you to it. See you later.”

Rand turned to ready the truck for towing and the man whose name I didn’t know
walked off without a backward glance.

“Wait!” I suddenly burst out, chasing after the man.

He stopped but didn’t turn. I rushed over and stepped around him, tilting my head back to look up. “You’re just going to leave me with him?” I accused. “A stranger?”

“Suddenly you trust me?” he said
. I swear there was a hint of amusement in his words.

“This isn’t funny!” I whisper
-yelled. “He could be dangerous!”

“Are you an actress?” he asked, knocking the bill of his hat back a little. I wished for a fleeting moment I could make out the color of his eyes.

“What?” I asked. “No.”

“Well
, you sure are a damn drama queen.”

I made a disgusted sound. “I swear,” I muttered as I turned away. “Men just like to insult women.”

I only got about two steps when his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “What did you say?”

“Nothing
.” I tried to yank my arm away.

He tightened his grip. “Hey
.”

The softness in his tone caused me to go still. I glanced up.

“I’ve known Rand a long time. He’s young, but he’s a good kid. His dad’s a good man.”

“Okay.”

He pulled on me just a little, enough to make me take a single step closer. Once again, I felt the heat off his body. It was utterly intoxicating.

“I wouldn’t leave you here with him if I thought you were in danger.”
He spoke low.