Page 12 of Their Greatest Strength

“Yet?” he asks, his smirk returning as he takes another two steps closer.

I narrow my eyes and glance at the front door, looking for an escape route just in case. When I look back at him, his smirk has morphed into a frown.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he clarifies, and I think I hear genuine sadness in his tone.

“You can’t expect me to know that or to believe it. I don’t know you.”

“You could just as well hurt me if that’s the basis we’re using.”

I fold my arms over my chest, forming a barrier between us. “You’re also a man. And you’re much bigger than me.”

“You’ve got a point there. But I don’t have any plans to hurt you. You’re safe here.”

“Safe,” I echo, biting at the inside of my cheek. “From what, exactly?”

“From whatever it is you think I’m going to do that has you looking like if I take one more step in your direction, I’m going to end up with scratch marks all over my face.”

“I was going to give you at least two steps before I did that, but if you insist on one.” I shrug.

This feels a bit too much like flirting for me. Every word is just slipping out of my mouth without any thought. That sort of ease around a stranger isn’t normal, and it’s a sign that I need to leave now. Not to mention that Nate will be wondering where I’ve wandered off to if I’m not home soon, and the last thing I need to be doing is admitting that I almost stole something for him.

“I’m Jamie. J to my friends,” the owner of the house reveals, offering me his hand. “We can pretend to shake hands if you want.”

I simply stare at his hand, taken aback by how massive it is. Even without the lights on in the living room, I can make out the thick calluses on his palm, revealing that he must use his hands for work.

“Nice to meet you, Jamie, but I’m still not giving you my name. Now, unless you’re planning on calling the cops on me, I need to leave.”

Interest flares in his eyes. “Maybe I am. Why, do you have someone waiting for you at home?”

“You could say that.”

He hums, and my pulse spikes at the way his gaze sharpens, as if he’s already preparing to uncover the truth I’m hiding.

“If you’re not going to give me your name, at least give me the first letter.”

“Do you swear not to call the cops on me?” I barter.

“If I were going to, I would have the moment I saw you sneaking through my living room.”

I blanch. “You saw me come inside?”

He winks. “I heard you yelling outside but didn’t come downstairs until you passed the couch.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

“You looked so focused I figured I’d see what it was you wanted to take from me. I wasn’t expecting the Xbox, though. There are more expensive things in this house than that.”

I tug at the hem of my old shirt, suddenly more aware of howI look amongst everything around me. There’s a pasta sauce stain on this shirt and a rip in the ankle of my leggings, for crying out loud. My hair hasn’t been washed in a few days in an attempt to keep the water bill down, and my shoes are one walk away from falling apart.

I’m sure I look pathetic in a house like this. Like a beggar desperate for something to pawn off for a few hundred bucks.

“I wasn’t going to sell it. I didn’t even come inside to steal from you. Your door was open, and I thought someone else might have broken in or worse,” I mutter, too embarrassed to look at him. Instead, I focus on the path to the front door.

“You can have it,” he offers quickly, and I realize that he’s moved forward a step.

I shake my head, already moving down into the sunken part of the living room. It’s easier to go this way than to pass by him and risk being touched. He might think he doesn’t look like a threat, but as a woman who grew up in a run-down neighbourhood without the protection of anyone but myself, I know better than to let my guard down. Even if something in my gut tells me I can take this one at his word.

Jamie watches me move with a frown but doesn’t chase after me. The relief of that is instant.

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