Page 24 of Raging Inferno

Chapter Seven

A Ghost Standing Between Us

Sliding two hundred-dollar bills into the leather bill holder, I lift my eyes to the waiter as he takes in the untouched plates on the table.

“Sir, would you like me to wrap the meal?”

“No, thank you. Keep the change,” I tell him, rising from my seat. Brushing past him, I make a beeline toward the restrooms and glance at the watch on my wrist. Deciding the ten minutes I gave Melissa to collect herself is ten minutes longer than I like, I knock on the door to the ladies’ room.

“Melissa?”

She doesn’t respond and instinctively I throw my shoulder into the door before testing the knob. It flies open and I find her on her knees, hunched over the toilet. Rushing to her side, I pull her hair away from her face as she dry heaves.

“I’m so sorry,” she moans, wiping a hand across her mouth.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” I assure her as she leans forward and flushes the bowl. Bracing her hands on the seat, she tries to lift herself but, I quickly intervene and lift her into my arms. To my surprise, she doesn’t put up a fight and I stride for the door.

“I’m drunk,” she murmurs as she rests her head on my shoulder. Balancing her with one arm, I pull open the door.

“It happens to the best of us,” I tell her as I carry her through the restaurant, ignoring all the sideways glances we receive.

“I ruined our date,” she continues. Reaching the parking lot, I feel my pants for the keys to my truck and can’t help but grin. Yeah, the night didn’t go as I planned but having her admit this was indeed a date is more than I imagined she’d give me. And though she’s drunk, having her in my arms is another bonus.

“Are you kidding? You just admitted it was a date. That’s a win for me,” I murmur against her ear. Unlocking the door, I pull it open and gently slide her into the passenger seat. She closes her eyes and leans her head back.

“My head is killing me,” she groans, shifting in her seat. Her purse falls from her lap and the contents tumble onto the floor of the truck. Leaning over her, I bend and try to collect her belongings. That’s when I spot the two empty bottles of vodka. Pocketing them, I set her purse upright and go to work on securing her seat belt.

“You’re a nice guy, Jimmy the hose Casale,” she sputters. Lifting my head, I bite back the chuckle and watch her eyes open. “I didn’t say that,” she warns, wagging a finger at me.

“Never heard it,” I swear, clicking her seatbelt into place. I’m about to step back when she grabs my face and turns me back to her. Unsure what she’s about to do, I stare into her eyes and like a raging inferno she sucks me in. Her lips, soft and firm, crash against mine. Every coherent thought disappears as I move my hands to her face and hold her in place. Our lips slowly part and I pepper hers with another peck before releasing her.

“I kissed you,” she says.

“Yeah, you did.”

“I threw up and then I kissed you,” she groans, smacking her hand to her forehead. “Ouch.”

Giving into the laughter that rolls through me, I pull away from her and close the door. By the time I make it around the front of the truck and into the driver’s seat Melissa is out cold. The drive back to her house is uneventful and when I pull into her driveway, I try to wake her. She doesn’t budge, causing me to lift her out of the truck and carry her to the door. Remembering her sister at the window when I picked her up, I don’t bother searching for her keys and instead, I knock on the door hoping not to wake her kid.

The door swings open and Melissa’s sister stares at me with bulging eyes.

“What the hell did you do to my sister?” she shrieks. The shock wears off and her eyes narrow at me. Ignoring the ridiculous question, I reposition her in my arms and look over the sister’s shoulder.

“Where is her son?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time, what did you do to my sister?” she commands, clenching her jaw.

“And, I’m going to ask you one more time where her son is, so he doesn’t have to see her like this,” I retort, losing my patience. It’s one thing to misjudge a person, but it’s another to accuse a man of foul play.

Crossing her arms against her chest, the armor slips from her face.

“He’s sleeping,” she replies, moving aside to allow me room to enter. Stepping over the threshold, I carry Melissa into her house. “Living room is to the right,” the sister says from behind me.

I hear her close the door as I gently lay Melissa down. Unable to help myself, I brush my fingers down her cheek before standing to my full height and meeting the sister’s fury. Running my hands over my head, I try to remember the name of the woman whose eyes are drilling a hole in me.

“You have five seconds to explain,” she hisses.

“Listen… uh…”

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