Page 15 of Burn Point

“Let’s go.” Nate’s voice was a low growl that had the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

I took his outstretched hand, the warmth of it engulfing mine. The simple act filling that hole in my chest that the storm seemed to rip open. At this moment, I didn’t really care where he was taking me. I was grateful that my own personal knight in shining armor had shown up once again when I needed him most.

I slipped my bag over my body with my free hand as he tugged me through the room and out the front door.

Outside, the frigid night air was a slap to the face, instantly waking me fully and setting off involuntary shivers. The warm yellow-orange glow of decorative lights lit the path of the sidewalk down a set of stairs to a lone four-door pickup truck sitting at the curb.

Nate led me to the passenger door, opened it, and helped me inside. Afraid that I might be dreaming, I kept an eye on him as he slammed my door and stalked around the front of the truck and climbed in next to me.

The engine growled to life with the push of a button. He punched a couple of knobs on the dash, and a flood of warm air blasted over my frigid toes, eliciting an involuntary moan from my throat.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His scruffy jaw clenched, his brow furrowed. He looked pissed. I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me, and I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d come if he clearly didn’t want to.

“What are you doing here?” I broke the tense silence.

He shook his head and huffed a small breath. “I’m not sure.”

Well, that didn’t make me feel so great—not that I wasn’t grateful for the warm air and the feeling of safety. “Okay, then why are you here?”

So it was the same stupid question, but I was too exhausted and dumbfounded to think of another.

Draping one hand over the steering wheel, he turned to face me, leaning his shoulder into the seat. A lone streetlamp broke the darkness of the night. Inside the cab though, there was barely enough light to see by. It lent an intimacy to the moment that made my breath hitch.

Feeling all kinds of self-conscious, I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and forced myself to meet his gaze. His eyes swam with some emotion, probably pity, or maybe disgust at the mess of my current state. Either way, the hard set of his jaw and flaring nostrils weren’t giving me the warm fuzzies. The hand on the steering wheel fisted, as if he wanted to punch something.

I flinched and shrunk back a little.

His expression softened at once. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you and steal you away, and I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable now.”

I nodded even though I still didn’t understand what was happening.

“Let’s start over. Pretend I just found you again.” He stopped abruptly and his jaw flexed. “Maybe without the part where that asshole was jerking off next to you.”

Realization dawned. He was mad at the shelter guy, not me.

“Okay.” My voice was small and tiny in the cab of the truck. Tentatively, I stuck my hand out and offered him a small smile. “Hi, Nate. It’s good to see you again. Thanks for saving me.”

One side of his mouth tipped up in a half-grin as he took my hand, rubbing his thumb over the skin on the back of mine. His fingers were warm, and I wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to him and see if the rest of him was just as toasty.

“Hey, Jordan. I’m glad you’re okay.” Instead of releasing me, he held on, lowering our clasped hands to the console, his thumb still brushing softly.

An unruly curl flopped over his handsome forehead. My smile grew until I was pretty sure all my teeth were showing. I kept my voice light and flirty, like I would if I were hitting on him in a bar, rather than in his own pickup truck outside of an emergency shelter for storm victims.

“What brings you to the local shelter in the middle of the night when it’s freezing cold?” I asked.

The grin grew as his gaze wandered my face. His attention shifted to the area outside the truck in the direction of the tornado destruction and his smile fell away.

He studied the same area I’d been gazing at all day.

He was silent for a few moments. When he finally spoke, his voice was gruff. “I was at home, sort of coming down from the last two nights, processing all that’s happened.” He paused, throat bobbing as he swallowed. His grip on my hand tightened. “A buddy of mine mentioned some trouble with some of the homeless people earlier. There are a few who do some pretty ugly things sometimes.”

The line of his jaw worked as he stared into the night. After a moment, he turned to me with an expression I couldn’t read. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I needed to know you were in a safe place. The shelter wasn’t answering their phone, so I drove over to see if you were still here.”

The rhythmic way his thumb rubbed my hand settled me a bit, and my shoulders relaxed. Was this man for real? This was some next-level romantic shit.

“That was awfully kind of you. But isn’t it kind of late?” My voice was soft and timid.

“It is. And I’m sorry if I woke you. Are you okay? How is your leg?”

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