Chapter One #3
An amused glint returned to his eye. “Perhaps it is you who is blocking me. I was on my way to the door after all.”
“See? Aggravating.”
He chuckled then nodded at my stained dress. “Dare I ask about the punch mishap? You were in a hurry, no doubt, when it occurred?”
I fixed him with a flat-eyed stare. “Two children bumped into me, if you must know. They were fighting or playing or…I don’t know.
” I threw up my hands. “I’m not a clumsy person.
” I worried my lower lip, thinking about how clumsy I could be, then decided the small fib was acceptable under the present circumstances.
“Clumsy is not the word I would use to describe you,” he murmured so quietly I wondered if he had meant to speak aloud.
“Oh? What word would you use?” Damn, why did my voice sound so breathless?
He cocked his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as his gaze flickered past me once more.
The realization that he was keeping an eye on Sylvia made my throat tighten.
It had been so long since someone had watched over me, the feeling of being protected was almost foreign. A slow warmth unfurled in my chest.
“Perhaps introductions are in order, Ms.…?” he said.
I hesitated. I was enjoying my anonymity. It offered a type of freedom I rarely experienced, and I felt more confident and daring than I had in a long time. I didn’t want it to end.
“No names. You can call me…” I furrowed my brow while I thought and then smiled. “Knight in Shining Armour…well, perhaps punch-stained armour.”
He raised his eyebrows, drawing my attention to his dark blond hair. Thick and a little unruly, it fell across his marred forehead. Did he keep it longer on purpose to hide what lay beneath?
I shrugged. “I helped someone recently. They called me that.”
“Intriguing. And I suppose I shall be Mr. Aggravating?”
I chortled, clapping a hand over my mouth, but then my heart skipped a beat as I thought of more suitable nicknames.
Mr. Chance Encounter. Mr. Blue Eyes. Mr. Muscles.
Mr. Your Lips Look Entirely Too Kissable for My Peace of Mind.
Mr. I’ve Felt More Alive Talking to You in the Past Few Minutes Than I Have for Years.
Mr. I’d Really Like to Get to Know You Better If I Wasn’t Such a Mess Right Now.
“You have another name in mind, don’t you? Tell me.”
“I don’t.”
“You most certainly do. I need to know.” An unmistakable twinkle entered his eye as he waited.
“No. We’ll think of something else.”
“Mmm…let me guess. If you’re a knight, then I must be the dragon.”
I snorted. “Too easy.”
“Even with my scaly hide?” He gestured to his face.
I tilted my head. “Do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Self-deprecation. Your scars don’t bother me, but perhaps you think you can make me turn away.
If so, you should know I’m not so easily dissuaded.
” It was true, I realized. His wounds didn’t frighten me or elicit feelings of pity.
Instead, they intrigued me. They were stories of pain survived, written on his skin.
He drew back in surprise, his expression growing thoughtful. “I suppose…never mind. You still owe me a nickname. Tell me or I’ll never let you pass.”
“Never?” I smiled. “Alright…Gandalf.”
He barked out a laugh, and several heads turned in our direction. I tensed—Sylvia must surely see me now—and he immediately quieted, glancing over my head again. Whatever he saw had him quickly moving to the side and gently pushing me past him with one hand on the small of my back.
“Through the kitchen. Out back. There’s a gate.”
I breathed a sigh of relief yet felt oddly disappointed that our conversation was ending. Perhaps we should exchange names. “I—” I spotted Sylvia’s red scarf moving toward me through the crowd. “I have to go!”
“I’ll run interference for you if you do the same for me,” he quickly whispered. “If you see my father, distract him while I make my escape.”
“That bad?”
“Worse. He’s even more aggravating than me.”
“Imagine that,” I murmured, the need to flee warring with my desire to stay.
“Don’t worry. The Balrog won’t get past this Gandalf.” He winked and moved to block Sylvia’s view of my retreat.
A pang of regret tugged at me as I slipped into the backyard, hastily paying my respects to Charles while muttering something about needing to change clothes.
“You can’t go yet,” Charles protested. “I haven’t introduced you to my grandson.”
“Another time, perhaps. Sorry, Charles. I’ll visit again soon. It’s just that…” I gestured helplessly at my dress and darted toward the gate.
I did not return to Charles’s house that afternoon.
I wasn’t interested in dating after what had happened with Todd, and I absolutely did not want to chance running into Sylvia.
I did, however, stand by my window watching for Mystery Man.
I was rewarded with a view of his broad-shouldered frame striding from the house, his blond hair catching the light of the afternoon sun.
When I fell into bed at last, nightmares did not plague my sleep. Instead, I dreamed of storm-blue eyes and strong arms wrapping me in safety and love.