Moth to a Flame (3 page)

My fear subsided as anger took over.

“You deserved that for sneaking up on me!” I retorted scathingly.

As he continued to curse and wheeze, I looked him over. This was one of those “fine specimen of a man” types Anj was always talking about. He stood well over six feet tall and his broad shoulders made me think he was built like a linebacker. His tight, white T-shirt stretched over his extremely muscled chest, which made it difficult look away. The shirt looked every bit too small for him, because every time he raised his arms to ball his fists over his burning eyes, it revealed a sliver of skin just above the waistline of his jeans, which were already low on his hips. He had a sexy-looking tattoo on his right bicep that peeked out under the sleeve of his shirt. I had the urge to reach over and lift it up to see what hid underneath.

Might it be wings of a bird?

The fitted jeans were free of holes or dirt, looking quite expensive for this neck of the woods. The clean work boots didn’t seem to quite fit the look of a typical worker out in this area either. My eyes cursed at me when I finally peeled them away from his hard body.

“You have to take me to have my eyes looked at,” he choked out. I refrained from overtly ogling him now that he was speaking to me.

“What? No!” I replied quickly. “You brought this on yourself, so you can figure it out on your own.”

I flung open my car door, ready to leave him standing there, when he stopped me with his next words. With a gentleness that was so opposite of his initial reaction to the mace, he pleaded, “Please. I’m new here. I wouldn’t even know where to go.”

Against my better judgment, I caved.

THIS GIRL WAS absolutely batshit crazy, but there was no way in hell she was going to leave me here blind after she maced the hell out of me.

“Please,” I asked again, managing to sound pretty pathetic. I ran both hands through my dark hair, worrying about how I might very well get left out here.

But after a slight delay, she huffed out her resignation. “Fine, but the hospital is across town and I live just up the road. I’ll take you to my place and you wash up while I Google a remedy. Once you can see, I will bring you back to your truck. No funny business, mister, or so help me, I’ll spray you blind!” she threatened in her small voice, which tried desperately to sound tough. She was quite the spitfire.

Her rehearsed ferocity had me holding back a chuckle.

Who is this chick?

“Miss, please call me Cale,” I said, reaching out to her blurry figure with one hand while furiously rubbing the other eye.

She hesitated before sliding her tiny hand into mine. “Lia. Lia Finch,” she replied, shaking my hand with surprising strong grip. This girl was taking the tough-girl act to a whole new level.

What is she so spooked about that has her ready to unleash Death by Mace to anyone who speaks to her?

She surprised me when she grabbed my forearm and walked me to the other side of the car, helping me get in. Once she settled me into the front seat and then climbed in on her side, she muttered an apology before starting the car and driving us towards her house. I just nodded my acceptance. This chick had issues, but I couldn’t help but be intrigued by her.

We drove the short distance to her house in complete silence. When I felt us driving over gravel a few minutes later, I realized that we must be pulling into her driveway. She stopped the car and got out. A moment later, she opened my door and reached for my hand to help me out. This time when she grabbed my hand, there was a tenderness to it, which sparked a buzz deep within me as if she’d shocked me. When she flinched, I knew she felt it too.

“This way,” she instructed as she led me to some steps that went up to a porch.

My vision was improving slightly and I could make out a small shape of what must be a cabin. The porch went the width of the small house and sheltered an ornate porch swing. She unlocked one, two, three locks before letting us inside.

What the hell?

Who the fuck has three locks on their door?

I seriously hoped this chick didn’t tie me to the bed and break my ankles like some psycho from a Stephen King novel. Even though she was weirder than hell, I couldn’t help that she piqued my interest.

“Come on. I’ll show you to the bathroom,” she spoke nervously.

She again guided me until we were in a tiny bathroom. After the faucet turned on, I could hear her rummaging through a cabinet. She handed me a warm washcloth and said, “Try to pat at them some with this while I go look on the Internet for a remedy.”

Once she left me in the bathroom, I tried not to cringe at the burning that was tearing across my face and eyes. A few moments later, a shriek from Lia in the other room caused me to jerk my head towards the door, ready to run to her aide. I heard stomping down the hall, which prompted me to fling open the door only to have her run right smack into me.

For a moment, I was stunned at the way she felt in my arms. She smelled of a sweet perfume that had been made to perfectly complement her own scent, and I couldn’t help but inhale her. With my hands on her back, I had the urge to never let her go, but she let out a ragged breath and pulled away. It was hard to not tug her back to me.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered before regaining her voice. “The Internet says that you need to wash the mace off. Otherwise it could spread and continue to burn.”

I heard her turn on the shower, so I swiftly removed my shirt.

When she turned around, she stuttered, “Um, you can, uh… Here’s a towel. I’ll be just outside the bathroom door if you need me.” With that, she turned and practically ran out of the bathroom.

I undressed and climbed into the warm shower. After a few minutes of rinsing off, I finally was able to see a bit better even though the burning still hurt like hell.

As I stepped out of the shower, a towel around my waist, I noticed a whole lot of shoeboxes stacked in neat rows along the wall.

What in the hell?

And where the fuck are my clothes?

About that moment, a dark-headed beauty peeked her head through the cracked-open bathroom door. Seeing her face for the first time was heart stopping. The woman was beautiful. Her eyes glowed green with mystery. She had a cute, pert nose that slightly turned upwards. And her lips were delicious-looking—especially when she parted them as she looked at me.

I noticed her green eyes dart to my towel then to my wet chest before she seemingly unwillingly dragged them up to my eyes. I just watched her blatant ogling with one eyebrow cocked. Her sweet, little tongue licked at her lip in a nervous gesture.

“Um, I threw your shirt in the wash. The website said that you could still be burned by the chemicals if it remained on your clothes. I figured your jeans were okay,” she rambled as she handed the folded pants over to me, “but I couldn’t find your, um, underwear.”

With that statement, her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink.

“That’s because I wasn’t wearing any,” I teased with a wink, causing her face to redden impossibly darker.

She handed me a pink, oversized Alpha Delta Pi T-shirt. “This will have to do for now,” she huffed as she tossed it to me and backed out the bathroom door.

Dropping my towel, I rolled my eyes as I tossed the shirt on the counter and pulled on my jeans. When I stepped out of the bathroom, I could hear noises from somewhere in the house. I made my way toward the sound to find her heating up some soup on the stove in the kitchen.

“Cale, you may as well let me give you some food considering I nearly blinded you,” she instructed, not looking up.

While she focused on stirring, I quickly looked her over again, drinking up everything about her. She had changed into a sweatshirt and ass-hugging jeans—the kind of jeans a man enjoys slowly taking off. Her petite frame had the perfect amount of muscle that could only belong to an athlete. Sexy, wavy, dark-brown hair hung just below her shoulders and fell around her face as she remained bent over the soup. But what got me for the second time were her glowing, green, soul-baring eyes when she flicked her gaze up at me.

Her eyes said so much yet seemed to be hiding something that rarely escaped. Again, her cheeks turned pink when she noticed me looking her over.

“I gave you a shirt, Cale,” she hissed, noticing that I was bare-chested. Her eyes were glued to my naked chest.

“Pink’s not my color, Lia,” I joked, trying to rile her up.

This garnered an annoyed grumble as she looked back down and continued her task of stirring. I couldn’t help but chuckle at this sexy little tigress.
And, God, is she sexy.

While she remained cooking at the stove, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, I took in my surroundings. Her decorations were sparse, but her mantel proudly displayed a picture of what must have been her mother and father. There were no typical, cutesy decorations like I would have expected from a girl who wore pink, designer rain boots and hoarded shoes in her bathroom like the apocalypse was coming.

I walked over to the table and noticed a sack. Being the nosy guy I am, I peered into it. Uncontrollable laughter seized me as I realized that it was packed full of romance novels.

“THAT is none of your business!” she shrieked as she ran over and snatched the bag off the table, bolting from the room.

I continued to laugh hysterically until she stomped back into the room with her hands on her hips. My laughter was cut short when I became fully aware of just how adorable she looked with those green eyes blazing with fury.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I blabbed before even comprehending what had come over me.

Her shocked look was quickly masked by one of annoyance. “Just eat your damn soup so I can take you back to your truck. And you’re going to be cold unless you take my shirt,” she huffed.

“Oh, I’ll take your shirt,” I teased with a wink. Damn, this girl really made my mouth say whatever the fuck it wanted.

She turned pink again and stalked into the kitchen to serve up the soup.

We ate quickly and without much conversation. She avoided any and all eye contact with me. When she did look up at me, her eyes would briefly dart to my chest before she’d drag them back to focus on her soup. The hair falling around her face couldn’t hide her crimson cheeks. As for me, my eyes never left her while we ate. I couldn’t peel my eyes from her lips every time they wrapped over the spoon to suck down the hot liquid.

Once she was finished, much to my dismay, she scampered off to the laundry room, retrieving my wet shirt from the washer, and then grabbed the pink shirt from the bathroom. I cocked an eyebrow at her when she handed me her shirt but didn’t argue as I pulled it over my head. The shirt was tight and I looked like some kind of pussy, but the huge grin that was forming on that beautiful face of hers was enough to want me to proudly wear it while I pranced around town.

The ride back to my truck was quiet except for her quietly singing “I Will Wait For You” by Mumford & Sons. She was like a siren of the sea and had me completely captivated at this point.

I was struggling not to stare at her like a fucking psycho and had to physically force myself away from her and out of the car once we stopped by my truck. After I was away from her alluring presence in the car, I walked around to her window to see her once more. “Let me take you out, Lia,” I urged, once again getting lost in those twinkling eyes.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, obviously debating my request. To further convince her, I gave her my cockiest panty-melting grin. I was pretty sure she needed help lifting her jaw off the floor.

But she seemed to pull herself out of a trance and pasted on her practiced fierce look. “I don’t date.”

After effectively killing my ego with three words, she peeled out and disappeared into the distance.
This was one fucked-up afternoon.