The Gathering Dark (6 page)

Walker shrugged. “It was years ago. It’s gotten easier. Not easy, but easier.” The playful twinkle returned to his eyes. “And no, I don’t sleep with a teddy bear. And no to the pajamas, too, in case that was your next question.”

Keira felt herself flush but tried to hide it by taking another drink of her very sweet tea.

“So you won’t tell me about your stuffed animals—how about whatever it is that’s hanging over you? What makes you so driven? Why so much piano? Why no dating? It’s like you’re already somewhere else.” His words were leaden with meaning.

“Exactly,” Keira said fiercely. “I don’t want to get trapped here. I don’t
belong
here. I’ve felt that way ever since I was a little kid. I only feel like things are right when I’m playing the piano. I don’t want to screw it up—end up married and working as a bank teller or something miserable like that.” She glanced up at him. “I know that sounds snotty and horrible. I don’t mean it that way. But I’ll go crazy if I stay in Sherwin.”

“And music’s your ticket out?” he guessed.

“I hope so,” she said fervently. “It depends on what Juilliard thinks of my audition recordings.”

“I never planned to stay here long myself. . . . ” He ran a hand through his hair, the curls snaking around his fingers. “But it’s already been two years. I finally broke down and got a job.”

“I noticed,” Keira said playfully. “Better to work at Take Note than the credit union, though, right? Speaking of which,” Keira said, “I should probably go. I haven’t practiced yet today and it’s getting late.”

Keira slid out of the booth, ignoring Walker’s disappointed expression. She was anxious to get in front of the piano.

“Sure,” he said. “You go ahead. I’ll take care of this.”

“No way!” She dug in her pocket for her cash, but Walker put a hand on her hip, stopping her.

“I want to see you again. It doesn’t have to be a date. You can ‘owe’ me the coffee then.”

She took his hand off her hip, the wanting that swirled inside her braiding itself into frustration. She tossed her money on the table and one of the pennies rolled off, bouncing against the tile floor.

“I don’t welch on a debt.
Ever.
”

“Gorgeous and proud,” he said, letting go of her. “I like it. Give me your number and we’ll call it even.”

If he thought that he could use her pride against her like that, he was totally and completely wrong. “I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll see you at the music store sometime,” she said. She walked out of the diner, trying to clear her head with huge gulps of the cool March air. She got in the car and pulled out into the parking lot, trying to shake off the desire to put her hand on her hip—to feel the place where Walker’s fingers had been.

Deep in her subconscious, a warning flag waved at her, trying to get her attention. Something about the picture in her mind wasn’t right. She studied it—the curve of his palm against her jeans, the definition in his forearms, the way his bicep flexed the tiniest bit as he’d stopped her.

His bicep. His smooth, perfect, bicep . . .

There were no inky dots! No marks at all. Whatever she’d
seen on his skin at the music store had disappeared without a trace. Again.

Keira started to pull out onto the street. She was so distracted, she didn’t even realize that someone had appeared in front of her car. She caught a glimpse of a guy in a strange, full-length coat; his crooked nose and haunted eyes peered out from beneath his hood. The world around her went dark. For a minute she couldn’t see the street, the buildings—nothing. Only some guy standing in front of her car.

Instinct took over. She jerked the wheel sharply to avoid hitting him and swung the car into traffic.

She didn’t look back to see if he was okay.

She couldn’t. Not after she’d noticed the SUV that was barreling toward her, skittering down the street in spite of its squealing brakes.

The squealing gave way to screaming as the seat belt locked tight against her chest and the crunch of metal against metal ripped through the car.

Chapter Seven

K
EIRA STARED AT THE
blue SUV that had smashed into the side of her car. Through the glittering remains of her window, she could see the metal of an enormous fender. A cracked headlight. The driver’s-side door of her car was pressed against her, the armrest handle shoved uncomfortably into her ribs. In front of her, the steering wheel jutted out at a jaunty angle, as though it had decided to glance out the passenger window.

She tried to sort through the jumble of events. She remembered twisting the wheel to avoid the fool who’d stepped in front of her car, and the SUV tearing down the street like a blue mountain on wheels. She remembered the pained, animal noise
her door had made as the SUV slammed into it. The shock of the impact still screamed through her, like a fire alarm blaring long after the smoke has cleared.

Keira twisted around, searching for the hooded figure, but the street was empty except for cars. The parking lot, too.

Oh, shit, did I hit him?
If he was lying on the ground, she wouldn’t be able to see him.
Oh, God, please no.

The seat belt strained against her shoulder through the fabric of her coat. She reached down, fumbling for the buckle, when her passenger door flew open. Keira shrank away from the figure that slid into the car next to her, sure it was the guy from the street, or the driver of the SUV, ready to yell at her for pulling out into traffic. Instead, the smell of peat smoke and flint filled the car as Walker leaned over and unbuckled her seat belt.

“Did I hit him?” she whimpered.

“He hit you, looks like,” Walker said grimly.

“What? No—not the car. The guy. There was a guy—is there anyone on the ground?”

He frowned. “Keira, there’s no one else here but you and the other driver.” His eyes turned appraising. Suspicious. “Are you hurt?” he asked. His hands skimmed her shoulders and down her arms, like he was looking for an injury.

She shook her head. “I’m fine, I think.”

A squat man with a phone pressed against his ear climbed out of his car and peered at her through the broken window.

“ . . . just pulled right out into traffic,” he said.

He looked at Keira like she’d vomited on his shoes. “Police,” he said, pointing to the phone. “They want to know if we need an ambulance. You okay?”

She nodded. “Fine, I think.”

He looked down at her car. “The way this thing looks, I’d say you got damn lucky.”

Keira looked him over. “Are you okay?”

“Oh. Yeah. I had the airbags and all.” He turned his attention back to the phone. “She pulled out of the lot and there was no way to stop before I hit her.”

Free of her seat belt, Keira spun all the way around in her seat. “Did you see him? The guy in the weird coat? He didn’t go into the diner, did he?” She scanned the sidewalks.

“Weird coat?” Walker’s question was measured as a drumbeat.

“Yeah. Dark hooded coat, crooked nose. Dark eyes—kind of like yours, actually.”

As soon as she said the words, the buzzing heat of embarrassment swept over her. Had she imagined the person standing there? Had she been so caught up in Walker that she’d hallucinated some guy who looked vaguely like him and then
wrecked her car
?

“Which way did he come from?” Walker asked, worry thickening his accent.

She grabbed the cuffs of her coat, twisting the fabric beneath
her fingers. “I didn’t see him come from
anywhere.
He just appeared. He was
there
, and then the accident happened, and then he was gone.” She shook her head. “Maybe he crossed the street.” There was a drugstore and a vet’s office across the way. She desperately hoped that he’d gone into one of them. It was possible.

Barely.

“That’s probably it.” Walker leaned close to Keira. He lifted her arm and wrapped it around his neck, then slid his other arm beneath her knees.

“What are you doing?” She tried to pull away from him, but he curled his arm around her more tightly.

“Lifting you up?”

“I can get out by myself,” she insisted, turning to slide across the bench seats. He reached out, stopping her.

“Keira. There’s broken glass everywhere. Let me help you.”

She glanced down at the upholstery. Tiny, glittering cubes of safety glass lay scattered across it like diamonds. She hadn’t noticed them.

Crap. Get it together. You’re fine. You didn’t hit the guy. The other driver’s fine. The car is . . .

She shut her eyes. The car was obviously not fine, but she had insurance. Cheap, crappy insurance. But still.

“Are you
sure
you’re okay?” Walker asked. “Did you hit your head?”

Keira frowned at him. “I’m
fine
,” she insisted. “I don’t need help.” Besides, every time Walker touched her, it was like a fog
drifted into her head—it was the opposite of helpful. Tingly and distracting and wonderful, but not helpful.

Carefully, she picked her way across the seat, grabbing the dashboard and the top of the front seat to steady herself as she eased over the gearshift. Walker heaved a sigh and reached out, catching her around the ribs. He lifted her easily, moving her over the remains of the glass and spinning her so that she landed in his lap.

She froze, stunned that he’d actually had the audacity to grab her. For one brief moment, they sat that way, Walker’s broad chest sure and warm against her back, his hands still circling her ribs. The whisper of his breath against her neck shot through her like an electric shock.

“You are the most stubborn person I think I’ve ever seen.” He let go of her and Keira wriggled around to face the open door and slid off his lap. Her shoes landed against the pavement with a slap. When she took a step, though, her knees weren’t as steady as she’d expected them to be. She wobbled, grabbing blindly for the door. It swung beneath her grip, throwing her even more off balance. Walker reached out a hand, his eyebrows lowered in concern. Instinctively, Keira slid her hand into his. He curled his fingers around hers and all she could feel was their skin touching. Her knees steadied underneath her and the world righted itself.

“Okay?” he asked softly, squeezing her hand.

She swallowed hard before she returned the pressure of his
fingers. “Yeah. Thanks.” Reluctantly, she slid her hand out of his and walked around the front of the car to examine the damage on the driver’s side. There wasn’t enough room for a person in all the dented metal and splintered glass. “I . . . wow. I should be
hurt.
” She ran a hand over her ribs as though she might have somehow missed an injury, but as shaken as she was, she seemed to be undamaged.

Walker stood next to her, close enough for their arms to brush against each other. “Yeah. You should. But I’m glad you’re not.”

“I guess I need to call my insurance company,” she sighed.

He nodded. She opened the back door and pulled her bag off the seat, digging her cell phone out of the front pocket and her insurance card out of her wallet. The police pulled up before she could find the phone number. When Keira gave them the story about the disappearing pedestrian, the shorter and squatter of the two officers narrowed his eyes at her, like he thought she was making up the whole thing.

She wanted to curl up and die.

When the police finally left, she called her insurance company and worked her way through the automated system until an actual person came on the line. Walker sat on the passenger seat, lining up cubes of safety glass on the dashboard.

“Thank you for calling Equitable Insurance. My name is Molly. May I please have your name and policy number?”

Keira closed her eyes. This was going to take forever.

Chapter Eight

W
ALKER LOUNGED IN THE
passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest, watching Keira talk.

She moved the phone away from her mouth to talk to Walker while the customer service representative babbled. “You can go. I appreciate your . . . Good Samaritan-ness, but I can take care of this.”

“I can wait. You’re gonna have to call a tow truck, too.”

Keira grimaced. She hadn’t even thought of that yet. She was going to lose a whole afternoon of piano practice—it was already almost five o’clock. Her fingers itched at the thought. She flexed her free hand. Her arm could have been crushed.
Missing a day of practice was bad, but if she’d been hurt . . . that would have been unimaginable.

Eventually, SUV guy got in his car and drove away. Keira and Walker were alone at the edge of the nearly empty parking lot. As the sun dipped low, so did the temperature. Tired of the cold, Keira opened the car’s rear door and sat down. At least this way, she was out of the wind.

The tow truck was due to arrive any minute. She tried to call her parents, to see if one of them could come get her, but neither of them answered their cells. Susan was still at her flute lesson. Keira tapped her phone against her leg, irritated.

“Need a ride home?” Walker asked casually. “My car’s over there.” He nodded his head toward a black car parked in the corner of the lot.

“Maybe the tow truck can drop me off,” she said, crossing her arms to mirror his posture.

He dropped his arms and gripped the seat back that stood between them like a wall. “I get it. I do. You’re proud and fierce and strong and you’re not one bit interested in me.” The thrill of hearing him call her “fierce” kept his amusement from bothering her. “But getting into a truck with some man you don’t know just so you don’t have to accept a ride from me? Come on.”

Keira felt some of the pride leak out of the set of her chin. She wanted to accept Walker’s offer . . . that was part of the problem. She wanted him to drive her home. Saying yes felt too much like giving in.

A dented, rusty tow truck pulled up next to her car. The guy behind the wheel was as stringy and greasy as day-old fried chicken. He noticed Keira and a smirk spread across his face.

She turned to Walker. “Okay. Yes, please,” she said. “I’m stubborn but I’m not stupid.”