Page 4 of The Taste of Charity
I uncurl and slip my feet to the floor. “What happened to my shoes?” I ask, surprised.
“I left them by the door. Don’t worry, I didn’t steal them.”
I shoot him a wry grin. “Why would you need to steal women’s shoes? Unless you’ve got a really weird fetish that you maybe shouldn’t tell me about. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear that. I don’t know you that well.”
He grins and runs a large hand through his hair, knocking a wild curl onto his forehead. My fingers itch to push it, straighten it out. Just touch it and find out if his hair is as soft as it looks.
I glance around the room, studying the worn couch and easy chair in the corner pointed straight at the small flat-screen television. There’s a flannel plaid blanket thrown on the recliner that leads me to believe he falls asleep in that chair most nights watching tv.
I know that because I do it myself. Mostly because I don’t want to sleep in my bed. Too many memories and feelings. Exhausting, tiring, wrecking feelings. Ones that leave me aching and yet so mentally zapped that I fall asleep in the chair.
“Your place is really nice.”
He snorts and moves closer, making sure that he keeps an eye on my figure when he slides into the easy chair. “It’s really not. But I don’t need much so it works for me. I put most of my money back into my business, anyway.”
My eyes follow his hands when he settles in the chair and then holds the blanket out to me. I shake my head. “I couldn’t take your blanket.”
“I don’t need it right now, Uptown, and you’re shaking. Are you cold?”
I hold my hands out, stunned to see them wavering. “I didn’t realize…”
“You were scared. I’m sure that’s just a delayed reaction to the fear. Why don’t you use the blanket? Curl up and rest for awhile.”
I shake my head. “I need to get home.”
His eyes harden and his hand drops, the blanket lying by his side in the chair. “Is there someone waiting for you at home?”
I laugh but there’s a hysterical edge to it and I clamp a hand over my mouth. “No, definitely not. It’s just me.” My head sinks down into my chest and he stands to come over to me. Holding out the blanket again, he says, “Baby, just rest for a little bit. I’ll wake you and take you home.”
“Not in a car. I walk,” I squeak breathlessly, feeling my heart clench in my chest.
“Absolutely. I’ll walk you home then. Unless you’d let me drive you…”
“No! I’ll walk. And you don’t have to walk with me. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“As fine as you were when I found you? That fine?”
“That’s unfair. I’m sure there are just as many nice people as bad. I just ran into a couple of the bad ones.”
“Right. Well, until we can prove that theory, which I don’t see happening, I’ll just have to walk you home.”
I open my mouth but he puts his hand over my mouth and I have this overwhelming urge to lick his hand like a popsicle.
“No arguments, Uptown. I’m walking you home. After you get some rest.”
“Fine,” I huff. I lie back on the couch and let my head rest on my hand, tucking the blanket around myself. Immediately my eyelids lower to half-mast and I struggle to keep them open.
“Get some rest, Uptown. I’ll be right here. I promise you’ll be totally safe with me.”
I shouldn’t believe him. I don’t know him. But for some reason I trust him implicitly.
My eyes close on a sigh but I can’t fall asleep. I’m so tired but I feel those old fears stir inside me. Lost in the last time I saw them. Heard them laughing and saw their happy smiles.
“What are you thinking about, Uptown? I can see that it’s upsetting you.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I roll over and stare at the back of the old couch, the muted green color the only thing I can see from this angle.
“That’s fine. But maybe you should just listen then. I was going to read.”
