She nodded and was about to turn away when he added, “But the poem says it’s impossible. None of us can stay untouched by the world. It’s a fantasy.” He shrugged and stared down at the open notebook on his desk.
“Even if no one can stay innocent entirely, it doesn’t mean we don’t try to rise above.” She resisted the urge to put her hand on his shoulder and kept walking the aisles between the desks. “What do you guys think?”
A handful of kids jumped in with an answer, but the more his classmates debated each other, the deeper Devon sank in his chair. Inexplicably, his normally smiling face grew stonier with every passing minute.
His quiet words had raised the hair on her arms, but once the bell rang, he scooted out of the classroom too quickly for her to ask him about it. He couldn’t avoid her forever, though. She’d follow up the first chance she got.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, and she ended the night alone in her cozy one-bedroom apartment. Curled up on her overstuffed blue sofa, papers covering the coffee table, she sipped a glass of wine and tried to focus on the pages in front of her. For some reason, she couldn’t shake Devon’s words or his withdrawal from the class discussion.
She tried distracting herself with plans for Will’s birthday party. His first since he’d gotten out of prison, she’d been planning the celebration for weeks.
Skipping lunch to visit his work site had been totally worth it. The delight in his eyes when she presented his cake mirrored the joy she remembered from his birthdays as a kid. She missed seeing a smile on her brother’s face, and if she could, she’d put one there every day. She loved making him happy almost as much as embarrassing him with her open party invitation to his friends.
Her thoughts flitted to the big man who’d caught her eye during her announcement. Now, he was something she could focus on.
He had something about him that drew her like a magnet. Something in the eyes. Something she couldn’t put into words.
He wasn’t handsome. His face was broad, his features were wide-set, and his nose had clearly suffered a break or two in his lifetime. He was—compelling. Raw. Powerful. His brown skin had a golden undertone, indicative of an ethnicity she couldn’t quite place. She pictured it warm to the touch, like the sun’s rays had soaked its very essence into his flesh.
He’d watched every move she made so intensely, he looked as though he would’ve lifted a car out of his way if it got between the two of them.
She shivered.
He made Ryan, her ex from before, seem like a boy by comparison. Yeah, he’d been in his late twenties, but he was pretty, not compelling. At the time, she’d thought she wanted a pretty man. He fit the pattern of the other guys she dated. They went to museums and plays. He talked about literature and…carbs.
He talked a lot about carbs.
Dinner always required reservations, and last year they’d summered in the Hamptons. Actually, they’d spent two weeks there last August, but Ryan said things like “summered.” He came from money, and while their financial disparity didn’t exactly cause their problems, something between them didn’t quite click.
At least not for her. She hadn’t seen it at the time, but it had been a blessing he left when she got sick. He fit all these check-boxes she’d had about what a man should be: successful, articulate, manicured—but looking back, he’d left her cold.
The guy at the work site gave off nothing but heat. She set down her glass and closed her eyes at the memory of those thick, muscled forearms, his intense stare.
A man like him might burn her alive.
And for the first time in her life, Liv Turner was ready to burn.