She doesn’t reply and I wonder what she’s doing at this exact moment. I’ve been busy all week and haven’t talked to her much. I hope she doesn’t think it was because of the movie incident, though I was giving her a bit of distance, too. Seemed like she needed it.
What’s currently blowing my mind is how she hasn’t mentioned who she really is. We haven’t exchanged last names. We haven’t shared intimate details, not that I would expect to, considering we’ve seen each other less than a handful of times. I shouldn’t be surprised she doesn’t want to lead with the sort of information that would rock any normal man’s world.
My name is Katherine Watts and I survived a horrific kidnapping and rape for three days. Until I was finally rescued, and my captor is now in prison for the rest of his life.
Yeah. That’s a complete bombshell.
My phone buzzes and I check it.
Come over around six.
I answer her quickly, not bothering to play the game and make her wait. Screw that. When it comes to this girl, I don’t want to play games. I just want . . .
Her.
I’ll be there.
She gives me directions and I pretend I’ve never been there, reassuring her I can find it with my phone’s GPS, no problem. She seems excited, nervous, even via text and I wonder if she can sense the same excitement and nervousness in me.
I arrive at her house at ten to six, feeling like an idiot for showing up early but thankful I’m not late. I park directly in front, quietly closing the driver’s-side door, not wanting to alert her next-door neighbor. The nosy old lady who gave me the third degree a few weeks ago when I’d been lingering on Katie’s street like some sort of fucked-up stalker.
I’m still not proud of that moment, though I can’t take it back. Don’t necessarily regret it, either, but come on. I took it too far.
You found her, though, right? And that had been your goal all along.
I ignore the voice in my head and start up the sidewalk that leads to her front door, a bottle of wine in one hand, a bouquet of fall-colored flowers in the other. I climb the three steps to her porch and knock on the door with the bottom edge of the wine bottle.
She’s there in an instant, her slender frame filling the doorway, an expectant look on her face. Her hair is down, falling in soft golden waves past her shoulders, her lips subtly shiny, cheeks pink. She’s dressed in black, a soft oversized sweater and tight jeans that make her legs look long.
Endless.
“Hi.” Her gaze drops to my full hands. “I told you that you didn’t need to bring anything.”
“I wanted to.” I hold the flowers out to her. “For you.”
She takes them from me, her eyes dancing as they meet mine, her entire face . . . glowing. I’ve pleased her with the flowers. That I made her so happy with such a simple gift reminds me that I need to keep this up, just so I can see that smile on her face. “Thank you,” she murmurs as she dips her head and inhales. Her eyes fall closed for the briefest moment, her lips parted, and I’ve never seen her look more beautiful.
I want to, though. See her look even more beautiful than at this simple moment. Like when I have her naked and lying beneath me . . . or right after I make her come. Will she let me? Can I take it that far between us or will she throw up her walls?
Something I’m determined to find out.
“Come in,” she says as she takes a step backward, shifting to the side and holding the door wider so I can enter. “You brought wine, too.”
“I hope it works with whatever you’re making for dinner.” I have no clue about wine. I’m not a wine guy. I drink beer. Vodka on occasion. For the most part, I avoid alcohol. It reminds me of my father, the dirty, fucked-up drunk. He started drinking, then he started doing drugs, bringing various women into his bedroom, dragging me into his bedroom . . .
Yeah. I push him firmly out of my mind for tonight.
Katie looks at me as if she has no idea what I’m talking about and then she starts to laugh, the sound soft, almost musical. “I’m not much of a wine expert,” she says as she closes the door behind me, turning the lock. Trapping us inside together.
There’s nowhere I’d rather be.
“Me either,” I admit with a smile.
Her laughter dies as she blatantly drinks me in. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” I say casually, allowing my gaze to drift over her in return. “So do you.”
No answer, just a sweet smile as she tears her gaze from mine. Despite the usual hesitancy, the typical shyness that is Katie, she seems different from the last time I saw her. More confident somehow, yet also carefree. No darkness clings to her tonight; it’s as if she’s shed her nervousness. As if that panicked moment at the movie theater never happened.