Page 9 of Beneath Your Beautiful
“I’ll let you know when the taxi’s here,” Killian said.
I nodded and gave him and the delivery guy a smile. “Thanks.”
I watched through the open front door as Killian climbed into the back of the delivery truck. A guy with a dark ponytail and a beard called out a greeting to Killian on his way into the bar.
“Hey. I’m Jimmy.”
“I’m Eden. Is that your taco truck?”
“Sure is. If you come back later, I’ll make you the best taco you’ve ever eaten.”
“Eden. Taxi.”
Killian guided me out the door with his arm around my waist. He was tall, six-foot-three or four, and his physicality was overwhelming. At five-seven, I wasn’t short, but he dwarfed me. I was trying to tell myself he was just being helpful, a good samaritan, and his nearness didn’t mess with my head. He held the taxi door open, and I slid into the backseat, grateful to put some distance between us. Maybe now I could start breathing again. Before he closed the door, Killian handed me his cell phone. “Type in your number.”
I entered my number and handed his phone back to him. My phone rang once and stopped. “Call me if you can’t make it.”
“I’ll be here. And thanks for giving me a chance. I really appreciate it.”
He nodded once, closed the door, and took a step back. When the taxi pulled away, I leaned my head against the seat and tried to process what had just happened. The only part that was clear was I had a job. Or, at least, a chance to prove myself.
The driver stopped in front of my building, a three-story brick rowhouse, and I fished some money out of my bag. I held it out to him as he held money out to me. “What’s that?”
“Your change. Or the guy’s change.”
“He paid? For my taxi?” I asked, taking the money from his hand.
“You got a problem with that? Are you one of those raging feminists or something?”
“No. I mean, yes, I’m a feminist. But there’s nothing raging about it.” I rolled my eyes and pressed my lips together to stop myself from going off on a tangent. I’d had this argument too many times at my family dinner table. “I’m just surprised. That’s all.”
He snorted. “A girl who looks like you…I’d think you’d get plenty of free rides.”
I gave him a two-dollar tip, more than he deserved for that kind of sexist talk, and slammed the door shut with more force than necessary.
Sweat beaded my forehead as I hopped up the stairs on my right foot, using the wood banister as a crutch. By the time I reached the third floor, I felt like I’d just scaled Everest. I let myself into my new apartment, double-locked the door, and pulled the chain. This place was secured like Fort Knox. When Garrett and my dad moved me in, they did a full security sweep and found it lacking. My dad installed an additional lock with a deadbolt and made me promise to be vigilant about locking up. If he had his way, there would be bars on the windows too. My dad texted me every day to make sure I was okay. He’d insisted on a code word if I was ever in trouble. How he’d rescue me from three hundred miles away was anyone’s guess, but if it helped him sleep at night, I wouldn’t begrudge him.
Tossing my bag to the floor, I collapsed on my white Ikea sofa—the only piece of furniture in my living room—and removed my boots and socks. My ankle was swollen, and the bruising had come up just below the ankle.
I stretched out on the sofa and closed my eyes, covering them with my arm to block out the late-afternoon sunlight and all the jumbled thoughts in my brain. But I saw his face and his body, his scars, and tattoos, so clearly in my mind, like it was burned into my memory. I could still feel his arms around me when he carried me, the flex of his muscles, the warmth of his body, his heady scent.
My ringing phone woke me. I blinked in the darkness and answered without checking the screen.
“Eden,” Luke said, his voice briefly taking me back to another time and place before he and Lexie shattered my illusion of happiness. But reality crept back in, like always. “We need to talk.”
“Go talk to your baby mama.”
“We never talked about this, and I want to explain—”
I punched the disconnect key and hurled my new phone across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the hardwood floor with a clatter.Smart move, Eden.I hobbled across the room and picked up the device. Even in the dark, I could see the crack in the screen. Great. I broke my new phone. Six months later, and I was still throwing tantrums? I was better than that. This needed to end. Right here. Right now. My phone started ringing again, and I let it go to voicemail. He wouldn’t leave a message. He never did.
Who gave him my number?
Ten minutes later, Cassidy’s name appeared on the screen. Of course. “Why did you give Luke my new number?” I asked, skipping the greeting.
She sighed. “He kept stopping by my house and begging me.” Cassidy had always been a sucker for Luke. Everyone was. “Did you talk to him?”
“No. I hung up, then threw my phone against the wall and cracked the screen.”
