Page 3 of Even if It Hurts

That was it. Justnot yet.

“Well, thank you for the coffee,” I began after a long, tension-filled minute had passed between us, “but you can’t just touch and kiss people. Especially people you don’t know.”

A sound of disapproval and frustration rose in his throat as he leaned closer to me, all while very quickly and subtly glancing around us, not that I’d said the words loud enough for anyone else to hear.

When he finally pinned those dark eyes on me, his expression said he was more than aware, but there was a clear warning in his rough voice when he said, “It’s effective. Touch can do things words can’t.”

“Like have people contemplating if they’ve just met a serial killer.”

He let out a huff that might’ve passed as a laugh, but I couldn’t be sure. After taking a drink from his cup, he leaned closer still and murmured, “It can convince people you’re withsomeone like me, so they’ll think twice about taking you. You’re welcome.”

The same assuredness from earlier had ice pushing through my veins. Or maybe that was his unconcealed irritation that hadn’t been there just seconds before.

Taking my purse, he pulled it away from me and held it out of reach when I tried grabbing it.

“What are you—stop,” I futilely demanded.

He searched the contents with one hand and pushed me away with the other as if I were nothing more than an annoying fly. Just as I was about to finally yell the way I should’ve when he’d first pressed his mouth to mine, he pulled a small, circular device from my purse and held it up for me to see.

“Do yourself a favor,” he began as he shoved my bag at me, tone low and full of rage, “be more aware of your surroundings when you’re in public.”

“What is that?” I asked, reaching for the device, even though I was sure I already knew.

“Tracker,” he said unapologetically as he curled his hand around it. “The men behind you in line? The ones who bumped into you? That wasn’t an accident,” he seethed. “They distracted you by putting you off balance physically and then mentally while slipping this into youropenbag.”

I felt cold. I felt sick.

And I had no idea what to say or do as the man in front of me stood and grabbed his cup off the table.

“They’re gone, but that’s what the tracker’s for. I’ll lead them somewhere else so you’ll remain safe.” He tipped his cup at me. “Your job is to get a bag that closes and gain some awareness so you don’t need me again.”

My narrowed stare shot to him just as he turned to leave without a backward glance. Without a goodbye. Without any kind of indication that he had truly just saved me, as he’dpromised. Without any hint of the chaos still swirling inside me from the short, incredibly impactful kiss that never should’ve happened.

By the time my great-aunt arrived a handful of minutes later, I was still staring in the direction the man had left, reeling from the encounter that felt so unbelievable, and wondering if I’d wake from this outlandish dream at any moment.

“I’m late, I’m late,” she said as she pressed a kiss to my forehead and slipped into the chair the man had been occupying. Waving a dismissive hand through the air, she rolled her eyes. “Got caught up talking with the boss.”

“Aunt Ada, you’re never gonna believe what happened,” I began, the words coming out on a whispered rush as I finally snapped out of my daze. “Some random man kissed me.”

Shock colored her expression as she grabbed my iced coffee and started drinking it as if it were hers. “Have you told Jackson?”

“No, it just—I don’t even know this man. He—” I stole a quick glance around the café, then leaned closer to whisper, “He said he was saving me.” I gestured to the line of people leading up to the counter. “Itjusthappened.”

As soon as the words left me, I wondered if the man had exaggerated the entire thing simply to scare me. The tracker alone would’ve done the job, but the men who put it there could’ve been using it to steal from me once I left the shop—not stealme. Right?

I felt like an idiot for believing a man I didn’t know.

Then again, from how enraptured I’d been in him and how disappointed I’d been when he left, I had a sinking feeling I would’ve believed anything he told me.

One of my great-aunt’s graying eyebrows was raised when I focused on her again, intrigue and something like mischief lighting her eyes as she slowly looked over her shoulder, in thedirection of the door. When she faced me, a wry smirk was pulling at her mouth. “Well, don’t keep all the excitement to yourself, Lainey Ray. Do tell.”

So, I did. The entire thing from when I’d walked into the coffee shop to the man leaving.

Throughout it all, there was an undertone of guilt because I could still feel the man’s lips on mine as clearly as if he were there, kissing me all over again. Never once was there a hint of embarrassment or remorse for not reacting the way any sane woman would’ve, and surprisingly, my aunt Ada didn’t chastise me for it. But near the end, there was a whisper of frustration...

Frustration that I had trusted an irrationally handsome stranger so wholly and without reason.

Frustration that I wanted to keep this a secret from Jackson when there shouldn’t be a reason to.

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