I weighed six stone three pounds, but you wouldn’t have guessed it by the way he dangled me from one arm.
"Nice catch," I finally breathed, looking up at his face with a mixture of shock and admiration, as he held my entire body up with one hand.
His lips twitched. "Thanks."
"Well, you're definitely better at catching than throwing."
Smirking, Johnny dragged me to my feet before pulling the zipper of the jacket open and freeing my hands.
"Better?" he asked, his hands settling on the slight curves of my waist.
Not really because I could feel the heat of his hands on my body, and even though a full layer of clothes separated his touch from my flesh, I still felt it all the way down to my toes.
This was bad.
This was so not good.
Red-faced and blushing, I latched onto his forearms, balancing on my one sheathed foot, and blurted out the only thing I could think of in this moment, "I don’t want to get beaten up."
His hands tightened on my waist as he stared down at my face. "Who would beat you up?"
"Your girlfriend."
"I don’t have a girlfriend," he replied slowly, wariness and confusion etched on his face. "You know this."
"Bella."
"Did she say something to you?" Johnny demanded, tone hard, expression angry.
I shook my head.
He cocked a brow. No?"
"No," I confirmed quietly.
"You're sure she hasn’t said anything to you?" he probed.
"I'm sure," I replied. "But I don’t want to give her a reason to."
Johnny stared hard at me and repeated his earlier statement with a few tweaks. "She was never my girlfriend, Shannon."
"Yeah, well, a couple of the girls in my class were saying that you had a –"
"You were talking about me?" he interrupted, a hard edge to his tone. "With them?"
"No." I shook my head. "They were talking about you. To me."
Johnny arched an indignant brow. "Is there a difference?"
"Yes." I nodded. "A big one." I swallowed deeply and shook my head. "Listen, Johnny, I don’t need…I can't get into any more ..." Exhaling a ragged breath, I forced myself to look at him. "I don’t want to get hurt because you spoke to me." My words came out fast and breathy. "I don’t need that kind of trouble in my life. I'm not a fighter. I need to keep my head down and get through school with no drama."
There was a long pause of silence where neither of us spoke.
"You think I'd let anyone hurt you?" Johnny finally asked, his eyes dark and intense and focused solely on my face. "You think I'd let anything bad happen to you, Shannon like the river?"
I stared up at him, unsure of what to say and uncertain of my feelings.
When I didn’t respond, Johnny released a low growl and shook his head, causing droplets of rain to spray my face.
"Because I won't," he answered his own question by saying. "Nothing bad is going to happen to you," he added, blue eyes dark and locked on mine. "Because I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, okay?"
I nodded uncertainly. "Okay?"
He watched me carefully, eyes heated and locked on mine. "Do you believe me?"
"I want to," I breathed as my fingers dug into the hard plains of his shoulders –my body's helpless reaction to his words.
God, I want to…
"Good," he replied gruffly, stepping closer, hands tightening on my waistline. "I want that, too."
A strange heaviness settled over us then as the never-ending cycle of rain continued to pelt down.
Like a pressured sensation.
Like the air had grown thin around us.
He was staring down at me, looking both annoyed and excited.
It was a confusing look.
I didn’t know what to make of it.
A huge, black Range Rover SUV pulled up alongside us then, breaking the weird tension, and saving me from blurting out something dangerous.
The tinted-out window rolled down and a woman's head popped out.
"Johnny?" the woman inside the Range Rover called out. She was blonde and beautiful and looked mildly horrified as she stared at us. "What are you doing to that poor girl?"
"That's my Ma," Johnny muttered, glancing briefly at his mother before returning his attention to me. "Come on."
"Wait!" I croaked out, gripping his arms before he could go, still balancing on one foot. "What about my shoe?"
Johnny glanced down at my feet and then behind me.
Releasing a heavy sigh, he hooked an arm around my waist, pulled me to his side, hoisted me clean off the ground, and walked us over to the jeep.
He yanked the back door open with one hand and deposited me into the backseat with the other before jogging back to the footpath to retrieve our discarded bags.
"I'm soaking wet," I warned, feeling embarrassed at the thought of ruining the expensive upholstery of the car.
"Seriously, Johnny," I added with a shiver when he returned to the door with our bags. "I'm soaked right through my clothes."
His lips twitched for the briefest moment and then he shook his head as if waving off an unwelcome thought that had come to him.
"Ma, this is my, ah – this is Shannon," he acknowledged, looking clearly uncomfortable. He cast a nervous glance to me and then turned back to his mother, clearing his throat twice before adding, "She's my uh… she's new." He shoved me further into the back seat of his mother's jeep and then tossed both bags in alongside me. "I told her we'd drop her home."
"Hello, Shannon," his mother said, turning in her seat to flash me a megawatt smile.
"Shannon, this is my Ma," he announced gruffly. "I'll, ah, go and find your shoe."
He closed the car door then, locking me inside with his mother, and jogged away.
Mortified, I slumped into the backseat of his mother's Range Rover.
Well, this wasn’t awkward.
This wasn’t awkward at all.
Trying not to hyperventilate with burning discomfort was surprisingly difficult considering I was sure full-blown hypothermia was setting in.
"N-nice to m-meet you, Mrs. Kavanagh," I chattered, knees bopping restlessly, as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms.
I was so unbelievably out of my comfort zone that I had no clue what to do.
Knowing that I was dripping water all over this kind lady's leather interior wasn’t helping matters either. "Th-thank you f-for the s-spin."
"It's Edel, love," she replied, sounding distracted as she watched out the window. "What in the name of Jesus is that young fella of mine doing now?"
Muttering several profanities to herself, Mrs. Kavanagh pressed a button on the door and her window rolled down.
"Johnny!" she called out. "What are you doing running around in the rain, ya bleeding eejit? Get in!"
"He's looking for a shoe," I pointed out, cheeks flaming. "My shoe – I dropped it." More like flung it. "He's trying to find it for me."
Mrs. Kavanagh turned around to grin at me, but her smile faltered, her expression morphing into a concerned frown.
"Oh, god," she gasped. "Look at you shaking. You must be perished."
I was perished.
I was beyond perished.
My body was jolting violently as the dampness of my clothes continued to assault my skin.
Johnny's mother turned the heater on full blast, and I groaned in relief as a wave of heat hit my face.
She slipped the chunky knit cardigan she was wearing off her shoulders and draped it over my legs.
"Now, pet," she said in a soothing tone. "We'll get you warmed up in no time."
"Th-thank you s-so much," I replied as I slowly withered inside. Her small act of kindness was overwhelming to me. "I don’t want to d-dirty your c-cardigan."
"That's what washing machines are for," she replied, smile returning.
Whoa, Johnny's mother was beautiful.
And extremely well dressed.
Seriously, her clothes were like wow.
Everything matched, from her earrings to her belt.
Fashion designer, remember, my brain hissed, of course she's going to look good.
With blonde hair and brown eyes, Mrs. Kavanagh didn’t look much like her son, but he had definitely inherited her bone structure and full lips.
Johnny was right about her Dublin accent though; it was thick and much more distinct than his.