Page 4 of Bound to You

As if reading my thoughts, Fernando raises his arms innocently. “Look, I’m not going to kidnap you. I just want to help, really.”

“We can look after ourselves.”

“Really? Cause it looks like you’re stuck in a foreign country, on the side of the road, with no idea where you are and no way to get somewhere else other than me.”

If anyone else said that to me, I’d be shoving my middle finger right where the sun don’t shine, but he’s got this look on his face. He’s not being cocky, just stating facts. Facts that I can’t exactly argue with, so I just pop my hip out and fold my arms in front of me.

“I promise I’m not taking you to my underground death bunker, okay?” A smile slips from his lips, and one threatens to slip from my own like it’s contagious.

I look over to May in question. She shrugs, and I know her thoughts probably mirror mine: what other choice do we have?

The other choice would be either waiting for another car to come along or to walk.

Potential death by hot stranger? Or potential death by heat stroke?

“Fine.” Potential death by hot stranger takes the win.

I reach into the car to grab our bags so I can put them in his car. I’m still not a hundred percent sure about this, but we don’t really have another choice. At least not any good ones.

I stretch across to grab my purse from the other seat as the breeze catches my scarf once more and it quickly unravels from my neck. I squeak a noise of worry as I reach to catch it before it flies away, but my hands are too full.

Well, I won’t be getting that one back. Trust me to lose something the day I get it. Whether it’s my keys, my phone, or my car in a mall parking lot, I’m always losing something.

After loading my arms with my luggage, I turn around to see Fernando rising from the ground with my scarf in hand. He brings it up closer to his face while he takes off his shades, as if to get a better look at it.

“Here.” He pins me with his gaze as he reaches forward to return it to me.

“Thank you.” I wrap the scarf around my hands, fiddling with the ends without ripping my eyes from his. They are the most gorgeous shade of blue—bits of cerulean swirled with cobalt—with a dark ring around his pupils, like the depths of the ocean. You could easily get lost in eyes like his and never be able to find your way back, never be able to swim up to the surface for air. I can already imagine which hues I would use to recreate this color, but I’m not sure if I’d ever be able to do them justice.

May clears her throat and I quickly avert my eyes from his. She’s standing there with her eyebrows raised to her hairline and a teasing look plastered on her face.

By the time I look back, he’s got his shades back on and is grabbing his jacket from the seat of the car.

Shit.

Note to self: don’t eyeball the hell out of strangers minutes after you’ve met them.

I can’t help it though. Sometimes I just get the overwhelming sense that I need to take a mental picture of a certain moment. If I look away too quickly, the picture will blur too easily, and I’ll never be able to recreate that picture how I originally saw it.

Not that I’m recreating anything at the moment, anyway.

We pile our baggage into the Ferrari, and both hop in the back like this guy is our chauffeur. I prefer to think of him as that instead of potentially the last person to see us alive.

That new car smell invades my nostrils. The dark leather seats are in pristine condition, not a speck of dust in sight. No soda cans in the middle console. The dude is tidy.

“Where to?” he asks.

“Oh, just drop us in the center of town and we can find our way from there,” I reply.

“With all this stuff? No, let me drop you at your accommodation. I know the area. Just tell me where it is, and I’ll take you to the door.”

His kindness is met by silence from May and me as we look at each other, trying to speak telepathically through our facial expressions.

He turns from the front seat to face us. “What?” he asks, interrupting the silent argument and forcing our attention back to him.

“Well,” May starts, “we don’t actually have anywhere to stay yet.” She really emphasizes the “yet.”

“You came all the way here with no plans on where to stay?”

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