She fell asleep on the couch somewhere around six o’clock in the morning, feeling cold from the inside out. No matter how many blankets she piled on, she couldn’t seem to get warm.
Chapter Seven
H
arrison was sure he was making a huge mistake, but not acting might be an even bigger one. Though he hadn’t slept all night, he felt alive and vibrant. Things he’d never noticed before seemed to take on new purpose and beauty, like how the cactus outside his apartment was framed by the sunrise, or how gracefully the local neighborhood stray cat investigated the apartment Dumpster. He opened a can of tuna and left it under the cactus for the cat before driving toward Mesa.
His first stop in Mesa was at a fast food drive-through, and then he headed to a group of apartment complexes just north of I-60, hoping he’d heard right the night before. He took more time than expected, looking around the different buildings for the blue car and even more time knocking on doors and making people angry until he finally discovered the right apartment. Even then, it was barely nine o’clock.
His nose still twitched from the stench of urine in the lobby, and the whole place reminded him of a filthy hotel he’d had the misfortune to stay at once in Anchorage. He couldn’t help wondering what a beautiful woman like Makay was doing in such a dump. At least up here on the second floor it smelled better, even in the enclosed corridor.
He sensed movement and saw an eye pressed at the peephole in the door. A second later he heard the locks coming open, and Makayla stood there in red and black fuzzy pajama bottoms and a half-zipped blue sweatshirt that revealed a black tank underneath. There were dark circles under her eyes, not all of which was mascara, and her dark hair was a ratted mess over her shoulders. She looked so incredibly beautiful and human that he wanted to bury his face in her neck and breathe her in. Had he really danced with her all night?
“Harrison?” she asked, squinting at him with the look of someone who’d just awakened. “How’d you find me?”
He noticed she hadn’t opened the door all the way, and something that could easily be a gun was in the sweatshirt pocket where she had her hand. Too late, he realized what this could seem like to her. A stranger from a dance appearing on her doorstep. What an idiot.
He groaned. “Man, I’m so lame! I thought I’d surprise you with breakfast and my crazy detective skills, but all I’ve done is scare you. I’m so sorry.” He held out the bag of food. “Look, I’ll call you, okay?”
“Harrison.” She pulled the door open. “Come in.”
He went inside the apartment and took a seat on the couch, while she continued to the sliding glass door where she cracked open the heavy blinds. He scanned the tiny space—television on a small stand, the worn couch filled with a jumble of blankets, a coffee table holding a laptop and a manila folder, and two rusted bicycles in the corner. All together it was a big difference from his upscale apartment, and he struggled against a sudden sense of pity.
“Sorry about the mess.” She pushed a mass of hair behind one shoulder as she sat on top of the blankets on the other end of the couch, drawing up a leg beneath her. “I have a dog. Or Nate does.”
If he discounted the blankets on the couch, the only things out of place were a couple half-chewed action figures and a large piece of bone-shaped rawhide, and these were noticeable only because of how small the area was. “The famous Snoop?” He wondered where the boy and the dog were at that moment.
She laughed. “You remembered.”
He remembered everything, and she was just as beautiful as the night before. Even more so with the rays of the sun coming through the blinds, illuminating her face and painting chestnut highlights in her hair.
“You were telling me how you found my apartment,” she said, after a few moments of awkward silence.
“You said north of I-60 and your friends mentioned a couple landmarks, so when I couldn’t sleep this morning, I finally got up and looked for your car.”
“So you
are
stalking me.” Her mouth twitched with some emotion he couldn’t decipher.
“Oh, no, I’d never . . .” He held up the bag of food. “Did I mention I brought breakfast muffins? Eggs and pancakes, too. Do you like syrup?” She raised an eyebrow in a way that made his knees putty. Good thing he was sitting down. She didn’t take the food. “Okay, you got me. I’m stalking you—in a totally non-stalking way, of course. And only because I didn’t sleep all night. Look, if this is too weird, I’ll go.” He held his breath.
After watching him for several seconds that felt like an eternity, she scooted closer, taking the bag from him. “I think,” she said, “that this is the sweetest thing a guy’s ever done for me. Especially a guy from Snotsdale. Oh, wait. Did I say Snotsdale? Sorry. I meant Scottsdale.”
Relief poured through him.
“That is,” she added, “as long as you brought jam, because I really hate syrup.” A shadow crossed over her face, but she didn’t elaborate.
“Well, since I have breakfast biscuits, there’s also jam. Tell you what, this Snotsdale guy will sacrifice and eat all the syrup.”
She laughed, a happy sound that filled him with light. “Wait here a moment,” she said. “I’m going to zip to the bathroom and splash a little water on my face.” She was combing her hair with her fingers as she spoke.
“Take your time. I like cold food.” He winked to show her he was joking.
She laughed. “I’ll only be a minute.”
True to her word, she was back before he’d finished unpacking the food from the bags, smelling of mint and with her hair only slightly more in order. They dug in and devoured all the food. Well, mostly he ate everything. But she tasted all of it, even when he put hot sauce on the hash browns, and she seemed to like them as much as he did.
When she yawned for the fourth time in less than ten minutes, he asked, “So how’d you sleep?”
“Considering that I got home at almost three, and then some guy beats down my door in the wee hours of the morning, I did pretty well.” As she spoke, her eyes went to the laptop and the folder on the coffee table, and a frown creased her face. “Actually, I had a little work to do, and I, uh, don’t know exactly what time I went to bed.”
He’d thought she was working as a waitress to get through school, but maybe she did accounting on the side. That could explain the folder. “In my experience, numbers don’t usually add up well in the middle of the night.”
Her face swung toward his, the frown leaving. “You know what, you’re right. You are absolutely right.” To his surprise, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She didn’t seem the type to give out affection randomly, and he knew he’d made progress. Having her this close made his heart race. Her brown eyes were deep and endless, but it was the adorable crumb caught on the side of her cheek that intrigued him even more. He longed to catch it with his tongue, to taste her skin and find his way to her mouth, but he didn’t dare make a move for fear of startling her.
“You should be grateful I waited clear until almost eight to leave home this morning,” he said, breaking the tension. He made a face. “Well, it might have been closer to seven thirty. Your neighbors are kind of close-mouthed and it took me a while to find you.”
Her eyes widened and she bounced up from her end of the couch, consternation filling her face. “Oh, no! What time is it?”
“Probably ten something by now.” He reached for his phone to check, but she was already up and running to the short hallway.
“I overslept. I’ve got to get Nate! He’s always up early on Saturdays. I told him I’d be there by nine.” Her voice cut off with the closing of the door, but within seconds she was back wearing jeans with a hole in one knee and tucking in the black tank. She looked every bit a harried mother, a complete change from the sexy woman of the night before and the driven woman who had probably stayed up the rest of the night to finish a job. The variability intrigued him. Who was she really?
“Do you see a boot over there? Or maybe a flip-flop? What about a single car key? Anything?” She rubbed her eyes.
“Why don’t you call?” he said. “Tell him you’re coming.”
“Right. Have you seen a phone?”
He laughed. “Where’d you have it last?”
“My dress!” She snapped her fingers and disappeared again down the hall.
Harrison stood and began folding blankets, shaking them to look for keys. She had most definitely slept here last night—if she’d slept at all, given her apparent confusion. Unfortunately, her reasons for not sleeping hadn’t been because she’d been thinking about him. He still couldn’t believe she found numbers so fascinating. Maybe it was something else. His fingers touched the folder before he pulled them back, reining in his curiosity. He’d be going too far if he pried into her work, and he was determined not to ruin this. He couldn’t remember ever having a woman affect him this way, not even his ex in California, whose name he abruptly couldn’t remember.
He grabbed another blanket and a set of keys fell to the floor. He held them up as she appeared in the adjoining kitchen. “That’s not it,” she said, moving aside several dirty plates that sat on the minuscule counter. “I mean, it should be, but I took off my car key last night so I could fit it in the pocket of my dress. I got home so it has to be here somewhere. I have a copy, but Nate has it in his backpack. It’s a long story, but that’s where I keep the backup.” She began emptying the pockets of her sweatshirt while he continued to shake out and fold the blankets. There were five, and he wondered why she’d needed so many when it definitely wasn’t cold this time of year.
A clunk made him look up to see a small handgun on the counter. So he’d been right about the gun. What did she need one of those for? Then again, who was he kidding? She was a single mother living in a rough neighborhood. He hoped she knew how to use the weapon. He himself had only fired a gun once in his life.
As he crossed to the counter, she zipped the pistol back inside her sweatshirt pocket. “We could search for it,” he said, “or I could drive you and we could find it later.”
“No.” She shook her head, taking a handful of what looked like cut up newspaper from another pocket. “I couldn’t ask that. He’s at Tessa’s sister’s house. It’s a good thirty-five minutes away.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” He laid his hands over hers that were trying futilely to straighten the newspaper pieces that he now saw were grocery coupons. “I’ve got nothing better to do. Besides, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer?”
Her hands stilled as her gaze met his. “Friends? Is that what we are?”
He took a step closer, not releasing her hands. He loved the softness of her skin against his and could imagine those same hands trailing over his body. “Makayla,” he said, his voice going husky, “I want to be your friend—I hope we become friends. But I have to admit that what I’m feeling for you right now is so far beyond friendship that if you’re not looking for a relationship you should probably run away. Far, far away.”
Her brown eyes grew liquid under his stare, but she didn’t back away. “I’m not going anywhere.”
They came together in an instant, his lips finding hers. Her mouth was soft, her breath hot and sweet against his skin. She felt so good. Was it finally happening for him? Because even though he wanted to pick her up and take her to wherever she had her bedroom, a larger part of him wanted to take time to know her inside and out. He wanted to learn about her past and how she ended up in this . . . place. How her parents had died and how she survived. He wanted to wrap her up, drive her home, and take care of her. He wanted to make her laugh.
What’s more, he didn’t care one little bit about why she’d been in the gym parking lot yesterday, except that maybe her being there might create an opportunity for them to spend more time together.
She pushed him away. “Nate will be waiting,” she said gently. “We’d better go.”
“Right.” He kissed her once more before leading the way to the door.
Chapter Eight
M
akay’s lips tingled. In fact, her whole body was tingling again. Being with Harrison felt so right, and yet that couldn’t be possible. People didn’t just fall in love one day to the next.
No, it was passion. Lust, maybe. That she could understand. All her life she’d learned to expect lust from men and avoid dangerous situations. Even so, she’d been exposed. Bumping noises coming from the room where her father had yet another girlfriend before meeting Fern, the men she saw with hookers in the parks where she’d slept, the kids out behind the bleachers at school. She had vivid memories of being groped in the middle of the night by a friend’s brother as she slept on their couch, and even Lenny had tried to sleep with her when she was fifteen. Thankfully, she’d been wise enough to tell him to get lost.
Yet Harrison didn’t have to bring her breakfast, and he didn’t have to drive her to get Nate. He was sweet, tender, and downright beautiful, and she wanted to be with him. Still, she should be tracking Lenny, but maybe that could wait a few hours.
His car was a Sebring, as promised, a convertible like hers. A beauty of a car in a metallic steel gray. The matching gray leather seats looked supple and every bit of the interior was pristine.
“Not as nice as your custom paint job,” Harrison said, opening the door. “But I like it.”
She tossed the folded blanket she’d taken from the house in the backseat. “Are you kidding? This is beautiful. Makes mine look like ancient. And I had no idea my paint job was custom. The previous owner must have done it.”
“What’s the blanket for?” Harrison asked. “Are we going on a picnic?”
She grinned at the hope in his voice. “You’ll see.”
As Harrison rounded the car to get in on his side, she began asking herself what she was doing. She
never
exposed Nate to her dates. What was the point? She didn’t want him to get attached, especially not after that embarrassing episode in kindergarten when he’d tried to set her up with the substitute teacher.
“So where to?” Harrison slid into the car.
“A place called Lily’s House.”
“I’ve heard of it. That’s Tessa’s sister?” He punched a few buttons on his phone.