Page 16 of Saint
No, they absolutely did not.
You swore off men.
You didn’t just get a giddy feeling in the pit of your stomach when you saw it was bare.
Nope. You definitely didn’t.
A deep red long-sleeve t-shirt underneath a leather vest. Dark blue jeans and black motorcycle boots.
That was when my brain clued in.
The leather vest.
The. Leather. Vest.
I gasped, “Wait, you said your name was Saint, right?”
He looked up at me, then slowly nodded.
That Barbie doll was still clutched in his other hand.
I looked down at my own hands.
One was still holding Soraya’s, and the other held the bags.
I lowered the bags to the ground and held out my hand, “Saint, it’s an honor to meet you. My name is Ophelia, and this is my daughter, Soraya.”
He slowly stood up and lifted a brow, but he placed his hand in mine, and I didn’t miss those tiny electric sparks that flew up my arm, and neither did he.
Which was proved true by the slight flare of his eyes.
After we shook hands, he said, “Thought we already made the introductions.”
I smiled, “We did, but that was when I thought you were a creeper. Now that I know somewhat who you are, I felt that it was proper to really introduce us.”
He let go of my hand and placed it in his jeans pocket. “And how do you somewhat know who I am?”
I smiled up at him and then looked down at Soraya and said, “Monkey earmuffs.”
She rolled her eyes at me but did as I asked and cupped her ears tightly.
I lowered my voice, “Our neighbors are Mr. and Mrs. Robbins. Told me about the little girl you had seen being assaulted. And you beat the shit out of him. Any man who defends a child is okay in my book.”
As I explained myself, his eyes widened, and then he nodded, “Appreciate you sayin’ that.”
I nodded, and then I looked down at Soraya and tapped her on her little shoulder.
She lowered her hands and asked Saint, “How tall are you?”
He chuckled as he looked down at her, “I’m six foot two.”
Her eyes widened at that, and she asked, “So you don’t need a step stool to reach the high things?”
He shook his head, “Nah. Usually, I gotta bend my neck so my head doesn’t bump into things.”
That caused my little girl to giggle.
And that was when I checked the time, and I gasped, “Oh, fudge sticks. We’re running late.”
