Chapter 3
Scarlett
Terror knifes through my chest. A horn blares, brakes squeak, and tires skid over rain-slick pavement. A taxi bumper punches my knees and sends me tumbling on my ass.
I’m lying flat on my back, assessing how badly I’m hurt as the rear door to the taxi flies open, and a man erupts from the vehicle.
“Oh my God,” he calls out and lowers in front of me. “Are you all right?”
“I, uh, yeah. I’m fine.” I’m not fine. My pulse is a runaway train, my palms slick with sweat. I flex my legs, testing for pain.
“You walked right in front of my taxi.” His tone isn’t exactly accusing me, he’s just stating a fact.
“It just tapped me.” And that’s when I look at him.
Blond. Tall. Broad. Black leather jacket. His face is thirst-trap material with his cut jaw and shadowed stubble.
Jesus.
My brain itches that I’ve seen him before, but I’m not sure where.
He crouches down and stares at me with eyes the color of emeralds. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
My pulse is racing, and shivers run up my spine. “You just scared me.”
With all this rain and how I’m feeling, I’m not sure whose fault this is. I can move my legs, and as far as I can tell, I can use my fingers, hands, and arms. I’m good.
But his taxi just hit me. The least he can do is pick me up off the ground. And then follow it up with a little mouth-to-mouth just to be sure.
Girl, calm down.
“Is she dead?” the taxi driver shouts from his idling car in the middle of the road.
“No,” his passenger says dryly.
“I’m out of here.” He slams the rear passenger door closed and then takes off.
“Great, I just lost my ride,” the man says, shaking his head. “Did you hit your head when you stumbled back?”
“Maybe,” I hedge, because I don’t want to be dragged to a hospital. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
The man leans in closer, and I sigh at his clean scent. Cool Water perhaps, but with a hint of cedar. One hand lifts as if to check me, but he hesitates for some reason. “Look at me.”
I do. And I see beyond beauty. There’s something else there.
His eyes lock with mine, unblinking, and I imagine he’s assessing why I would be walking in a downpour. “You’re shaking,” he says quietly.
“I’m drenched from the rain,” I manage.
He doesn’t ask why I’m walking alone in the storm, carrying a duffel late at night. My smeared mascara and wet clothes scream homeless.
“You have something under your eye.” His gaze flicks to my right cheek, where I was slapped.
“It’s nothing.” I gently tap that spot, and when I feel pain, I figure a bruise must already be forming.
Great.
His jaw tightens, and he asks, “Where are you heading?”
“Nowhere,” I say, then wince. “I mean, nowhere specific.”
His gaze sharpens. “That’s not an answer.”
The streetlights blur in my eyes, and I blink hard, refusing to cry in front of a stranger. I’m tired, hungry, and humiliated. Pierce’s words still ring in my head: No one else will tolerate you like me.
The shame that he might be right sticks to me like old gum on a dirty sidewalk.
I wipe away the rain sliding down my neck. “I’ll figure it out.”
The man exhales slowly. “Do you have somewhere safe to go tonight?”
“Yes,” I blurt the lie of the century.
He shakes his head like he doesn’t believe me.
“Come on. There’s a hotel on the next block.” The man grabs my duffel. “I’ll walk you there.”
“No, I—”
“I’m not leaving you here alone, hurt, and lying on the sidewalk in the rain.” His tone says he won’t take no for an answer. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
He closes his eyes. “Trust me. I just can’t.”
The way he insists, I should be bristling. I don’t like being told what to do. But something inside me unclenches. Just a little.
“What’s your name?” he asks with an air of authority.
I consider lying. I also don’t like my name. All the teasing I got growing up left me triggered. Scarlett O’Hara, the Scarlett Letter. Then, when I got to medical school, it got worse in a different way.
I’m Scarlett Ford. Dean Bradley Ford’s daughter.
The weight of everything ahead of me and the expectations are only harder because I’m a Ford.
“Hello?” The man waves at me.
“Scarlett.”
“Last name?”
“Just Scarlett.” Too many people know my father. And Pierce.
“Okay, Just Scarlett.” He helps me up to my feet, but my legs go soft, and I fall against his chest.
“Sorry,” I mutter into the rich leather of his coat, also getting wet.
We hold each other’s stare for a moment. Being this close, I’m glad I showered before I left the EMS station.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He freezes and blinks. “Cormac.”
“Thank you for helping me, Cormac.” I didn’t give him my last name, so I’m not surprised he didn’t give me his.
“Of course. Can you walk, Scarlett, or do you need to be carried?” he asks with a hint of mischief in his voice.
I flush at the thought. “I was walking fine until your taxi ran into me, Cormac.”
He smiles. “Humor. That’s a good cognitive sign.”
Cognitive… Is he a first responder, too?
His height and the way his biceps bulge through the leather, I’m thinking fireman. God knows I feel the heat.
“This way.” He slings my duffel over his shoulder and steers me onto the sidewalk, away from cars speeding into puddles.
As Cormac strolls beside me, I sense there’s something unsettled in him. He radiates tension, not toward me, and not the violent kind. More like he’s got fragile secrets.
We reach a hotel nestled between vintage plate-glass storefronts with carved moldings and a chic flair. Warm light spills out from the lobby windows.
Cormac opens the door for me. “The check-in desk is this way.”
I slip inside, and he follows.
“Do you—” I swallow. “Are you staying here, too?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m just making sure you have someplace safe to sleep tonight.”
This stranger’s kindness hits in contrast to what just happened with Pierce. I felt cautious that his insistence on taking me to a hotel held an ulterior motive. But now it appears, he’s simply making sure he can, without guilt, walk away from me. And my problems.
Right now I’m magnetized and drawn to him, aching for more of the safety he offered while wanting nothing in return.
Cormac pulls a credit card from his wallet and slides it across the counter before I can protest. “One room. For her. Keep it on file. She can stay as long as she wants.”
As long as I want? That’s insane.
“Sir?” the clerk says, like even she can’t believe it.
Especially after looking at me. A drowned rat with raccoon eyes.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Cormac. “I only need one night.”
“Like I said, as long as you want.” He takes back the card from the clerk and hands me my duffel bag.
I only need a place to stay because it’s late. I’m drenched and have a bruise forming on my sore cheek. I can’t face my father looking like this. Or Regan, my best friend and EMT partner. I don’t want to hunt her down while she’s still on her shift to ask if I can sleep on her couch.
That’s tomorrow’s humiliation.
Right now I need to decompress. Put Pierce behind me. Perhaps this man’s hands on me will incinerate the memory of Pierce’s face until the memory is nothing but an ash cloud.
I pull the duffel strap firmer against my chest. “Can I buy you a drink to say thank you?”
Cormac’s eyebrows cinch together. “I think you need to get warm and dry. Good luck.”
He turns to leave.
Maybe he’s buying me off because I got hurt and he feels responsible. A panic surges in my chest, watching him walk away.
“Cormac, wait,” I call out.
He freezes and turns around. “Yes, Scarlett?”
“Can you…” My throat tightens. “Will you come to my room? I don’t want anything. I just… I don’t want to be alone right now.”
I can’t believe I’m inviting a strange man up to my hotel room. But the silence up there and being alone with my thoughts will tear me apart.
He studies me. “You should call a friend. You don’t even know me.”
The fact that he’s hesitating makes me trust him more. If he intended to hurt me, we’d be in the elevator already.
“I had a fight with my boyfriend,” I blurt.
His shoulders go up and his jaw twitches. Stalking closer, Cormac brushes wet hair away from my face. His eyes land on my bruise.
“Where is he?” he growls.
“No. He’s not worth it.” I don’t know how to explain it.
“If you don’t go back to him, then it was worth finding out what kind of man he really is.” His eyes flutter. “Was this the first time?”
I nod.
“What can I do?” he asks, getting closer to me.
This stranger with stormy green eyes is the only thing I want to think about right now. Like he’s the only thing in the world, and I don’t have a Mt. Everest-size mountain to climb in order to get my life back on track.
“I just need someone.” I swallow. “Close. Maybe, so I don’t think any of that was real. I can’t face what happened yet.”
Cormac’s expression visibly rearranges at my confession. Low and manly, he says, “I don’t make a habit of this. But I can’t walk away now. Come on.”