Page 3 of Moros

Sighing, I picked up what was left of my body lotion and sat on the edge of my bed.

I guess I should have felt fortunate the injuries weren’t worse.

With the tips of my fingers, I massaged cream into my skin while thinking of the man who’d stepped in to help me. I didn’t know his name or even what he looked like.

If I was being honest, I would say I’d been saved by death.

Shaking my head to clear it, I recork the bottle, set it on the bedside table and crawled my naked body under the cold sheets.

But I couldn’t sleep.

Every sound made my mind wander, every passing shadow of a car’s headlight that lit up my second story apartment left me feeling as if I was being watched.

In the wee hours of the morning, I relented, found the tattered business card from where I had it tucked within the pages of an old bible.

Someone from the foster system had given it to me

That was a useless thing to try remembering—my hands shook as I dialed the number.

He’d told me if I needed anything I should call—he said it didn’t matter the day or time, he would answer.

No one had ever been there like that for me before and I held out no hope he’d answer or even still remember who I was.

“Yeah?” The sleepy voice answered.

“Dude?” I managed.

“Yes?” He questioned. “Who is this?”

“Um—It’s Ryanne—Ryanne Larwick?”

“Ryanne? Are you alright?”

“Um—” I looked up from the corner of the room I’d been hiding in. “Something happened tonight—I was going to ask if you could help me find someone?”

“Now?”

“Sorry. I couldn’t sleep and it’s kind of important.”

Faulkner “Dude” Cooper grunted.

“Go back to sleep, baby.” Dude said. “Everything is okay. I’ll be back.”

There was the sound of a kiss and I blushed.

I closed my eyes while I waited for him to return to the conversation. I allowed myself to think about Dude, the man who’d grinned boyishly at me and waved as he told me that even though his name was Faulkner, that everyone called him Dude.

He was beautiful.

But by the time I met him, he was engaged and off the market.

He wouldn’t have been interested even if I looked like Aphrodite.

I saw the way he looked at Cheyenne—in her eyes, the world could end, and he wouldn’t have had a clue.

“Okay, talk to me.”

I explained everything to him. There was just something about the way he listened to me.

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