Page 15 of Saint
I had every intention of not stopping, that was, until Soraya looked over her shoulder and stopped.
Which caused my arm to jerk back. My face winced at the pain, but we stopped.
That was when we both turned, and I caught sight of what the big man had in his hand.
It was the Barbie in Swan Lake doll.
I shook my head, knowing what he obviously had done.
But he opened his mouth before I could and made sure with each word he spoke that he was looking directly into my eyes.
“Seen you at the diner. We always sit in a different section. You work hard as fu... fudge. Saw some punk who didn’t tip you. Didn’t like that. So, this is my way of givin’ you your tip. Figured you wouldn’t mind spendin’ it on this for your daughter.” Well, if this man were a creeper, he had just earned himself a brownie point for curbing that f-bomb.
Something I had trained myself to do.
“What’s your name?” Soraya asked.
And that caused me to close my eyes and sigh.
She knew that she couldn’t accept anything from a stranger.
And she was doing what I taught her to do.
I opened my eyes in time to see the big man lower himself, so he was closer to her height, and then he said, “Name’s Saint. What’s your’s?”
Soraya looked at him and said, “I’m Soraya, and this is Monnie.”
He chuckled, “Monnie? That’s cute.”
He looked up at me, then said, “And you are?”
I bit my bottom lip, hesitating to answer him.
However, as I looked into his eyes, eyes that I saw were like the color of the deepest, richest chocolate money could buy, I saw something.
Something I couldn’t put my finger on... and I still hadn’t been able to figure it out when my mouth opened before my brain told it to close, “Ophelia.”
He lifted his chin as he said, “Honor to meet ya.”
He looked from the top of my head down to my toes, and at that moment, I wished I had on something better than what I was wearing.
My long blonde hair was up in a top knot.
I had no makeup on.
I was in an old, ratty sweatshirt and sweatpants.
Nothing compared to this man.
As they talked, I listened intently, all the while taking in this man’s features.
He had those rich chocolate eyes that I could see under a fitted black ball cap that was turned backward on his head. His nose was slightly crooked, which clued me in that it had beenbroken before. His lips... man, but it would be wonderful to feel those against my own.
Firm and soft. Just the right amount of pressure...
Ophelia Anne Cartwright, get a hold of yourself.I chastised my inner self.
My eyes didn’t stray to his left hand to see if it held a ring.
