“Why do you come into the diner every night?” I blurted out.
He reached out and wrapped a strand of my blonde hair around his finger. My breath hitched as his eyes studied my hair as he unraveled the strands only to wind a thicker strip around his finger. He diverted his eyes back to mine and took a step closer. Alarms sounded inside my head, my heart rate picked up and I felt the butterflies take off in the pit of my stomach, just as I had when I rode blindly into the night on his bike.
I stepped closer, my feet betraying my conscience, and he raised his free hand to my cheek, his knuckles gently grazing my skin. I closed my eyes as I felt myself sink deeper and deeper into foreign territory. I felt more in one hour with this man than I had in the last ten months.
He leaned close, his breath tickling my lips, the smell of his cologne branding me.
“In a world as dark as the one I live in, sometimes I can’t help but crave sunshine,” he said huskily.
Sunshine.
Me.
His mouth touched the corner of mine and something inside of me snapped. I pressed my hands to his chest and pushed with all my might—only for him not to budge.
“What are you doing?” I asked, taking a step back, staring at him in shock, his hands frozen in the air from holding my hair and face.
“Answering your question,” he said, dropping his hands back to his sides. “I’m very expressive.”
“You need to leave,” I insisted. “Thank you for the ride and for helping me treat my burn, but this…” I pointed to the space between us, “is not going to happen. I’m not looking for a man, and if I was it wouldn’t be the likes of you,” I closed my eyes at my own rudeness. “I’m sorry, that sounded horrible.”
“I get it, Reina,” he bit out, his eyes narrowing at me as his features hardened. “Only straight-laced dicks get Sunshine’s pussy wet,” he sneered.
I cringed, his words assaulting me as he stepped around me.
“Jack, wait,” I cried out, as I turned around and watched him walk away from me.
He pulled open the door and looked over his shoulder at me.
“Lock the fucking door,” he growled, slamming it behind him.
I stared at the door hoping it would open and he’d walk back inside but knew that wasn’t likely. I glanced down at the napkin in my hand, taking a deep breath before walking toward the refrigerator and hanging it alongside Danny’s picture.
I wouldn’t call.
Chapter Six
“Reina, please come in,” Dr. Spiegel greeted, as she stood in front of her office door. She smiled warmly as she always did, but this time as her eyes traveled the length of me I saw the flicker of surprise. I tucked the magazine I was reading back into the rack and stood, looking everywhere but directly at her. I rubbed my sweaty palms against the tight denim that stretched over my thighs. I knew I shouldn’t have worn this outfit. I knew she would notice the change in attire and over analyze my choice in clothing. After all, she was a shrink. She was paid to over analyze everything.
I stepped inside her office, taking a seat on the leather sofa as she closed the door behind me.
“I’m sorry my last patient ran a bit over,” she apologized, taking the seat across from me, reaching for her notebook. She settled back against the chair, making herself comfortable, eyes firmly assessing me.
“No worries,” I mumbled, turning my head to glance at the framed degrees that lined the wall.
Fancy.
“This is a nice change,” she probed. And there it was. “You’ve been my patient…for what is it now…two, three months?” “Sixty-three days,” I said, lifting my eyes to hers.
“Okay. In sixty-three days I’ve never seen you wear anything other than sweats.” She remarked, staring at my face. “You have lipstick on.”
“So what?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders. “I didn’t have a chance to go to the laundromat.”
“And the lipstick?”
“I ran out of chap stick,” I replied, sighing heavily, tempted to wipe the lipstick off my lips with the back of my hand. She remained silent, her gaze worked me over as she tried to pick apart my inner thoughts. I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair, wishing like hell I’d disappear, snap my fingers and just vanish. It worked for Barbara Eden.
“I have a closet full of nice clothes,” I whispered. I don’t know what it was about this woman, how she managed to make me confess my deepest thoughts with just a simple glance. I think a part of me believed if I didn’t speak my mind she’d still know everything I was thinking and I’d only be lying to myself. I was very hesitant about therapy at first. I naively believed that speaking to a shrink meant I was crazy. But I learned that it did help, especially for a person like me who had no one else to talk to. I left every session feeling a little less broken and took comfort in the shreds of clarity I gained from my time with Dr. Spiegel.