Seeking Her (Losing It #3.5)(17)
Author: Cora Carmack

“Listen, I get the whole protective thing,” she said. “It’s what guys like you do. And don’t get me wrong, it’s kinda hot.” That should not have made my blood rush faster. “But I don’t need a babysitter.” I barely contained my laugh. “So put the knight-­in-­shining-­armor fantasies on hold for the night.”

I channeled my laugh into a roll of my eyes. I was no knight. And between the two of us, she was the one covered in armor.

“And I already told you that I don’t care what you think you need.”

I was paid to ignore that.

“So, what? You’re going to follow me whether I want you to or not?”

I smirked, because the universe definitely had a sense of humor. It was a dark one, sending me of all ­people to look after a girl like her, but it was a sense of humor all the same.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Someone needs to get you home.”

She scoffed and skirted around me. “I’m not going home yet. So run along and find yourself another damsel.”

I took a frustrated breath and hid it behind a smile. She reminded me so much of myself, it was like looking in a mirror. A mirror I wanted to shatter. She walked away, and I called out after her. “You’re a real piece of work.”

I’d thought the same thing about myself on a daily basis once upon a time, until I’d had enough to drink to stop caring.

She spun around, walking backward, with a giant smile. She stretched out her arms displaying how much she didn’t actually give a f**k and said, “You bet I am.”

It would have made a great exit if she didn’t stumble on her next step. I darted forward, but she caught herself on her own. Without sparing a look at me, she continued forward, walking a little faster.

Knowing it would drive her mad, I caught up and fell into step next to her. She glared at me and tried to walk faster, but my legs were longer than hers. For a moment, I thought she might run just to leave me behind. Instead, she asked, “What’s your name?”

Not what I expected.

“You waited long enough to ask that.”

In fact, I was damned surprised I hadn’t given myself away already and called her by name.

She shrugged. “Names aren’t exactly the important bit in places like this.” She waved a hand back in the direction of the bar we’d left. “And, honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

“So, then, why ask? If names aren’t important and you don’t care?”

“Well, first, we’re no longer in said bar. And second, you’re following me, and I’m asking questions to fill the silence, because otherwise things will get awkward. And talking keeps me from thinking about how you’re probably a serial killer, hence the whole following thing.”

Well, at least she wasn’t completely oblivious to her safety. Though, if I did mean to harm her, asking my name wasn’t going to stop me.

“From a knight in shining armor to a serial killer.”

She bounced one shoulder in a shrug. “The nice-­guy bit could be an act. And you definitely look like you could be dangerous.”

I was. And not just because of my training. Kelsey might be wild, but the old me still could have put her to shame. And if I fell off the wagon, I could easily drag her down that road with me.

“Are you always this honest?” I asked.

“Not even close. It’s the alcohol talking. Totally powers down my filter.”

Good to know.

“I’ll tell you my name if you’ll tell me something about yourself.”

I had only facts on a paper and observations that I tried incredibly hard to keep from morphing into the worst assumptions.

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter. Something else honest.”

She paused for a few moments, her steps faltering. She veered sideways, her shoulder brushing my arm. I held out a hand ready to catch her if she fell, but didn’t touch her yet.

“Honestly? . . . I’m tired.”

I laughed. I asked for honesty, and I guess I got it.

“That’s because it’s almost dawn.”

“Not that kind of tired.”

“What kind of tired, then?”

“The bone-­deep kind. The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix. Just tired of . . . being.”

For a few moments, I was shocked into silence. I’d known there was something more going on in her head. I’d wanted to crack open her facade and find the truth beneath it. But I didn’t feel any better having my suspicions confirmed. In fact, I felt infinitely worse, sickened by the worn look on her face and frustrated by my inability to fix it.

“You don’t show it.” Not to most ­people anyway, but I was the one person who saw when no one else was looking.

“I don’t show much of anything.”

Damn. For all my desire to unravel her secrets and excavate her issues, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know now. I already felt too much for someone who was supposed to be my unbiased mission, and knowing what hurt her would only dig me deeper.

“I bet that gets tiring, too.”

She sucked in a breath and raised her chin like she was going to nod, but then she stumbled, one of her heels sticking between the cobblestones. I caught her up to my side, squeezing her a little closer than was probably necessary.

How drunk was she now? She had to be sobering up.

“How are your cheeks?”

She blinked a few times, and the fist at my shoulder uncurled, fingertips pressing into my muscle.

“Can you feel them?” I added.

When she still didn’t react, my traitorous hand drifted up, and I brushed my fingers across her cheek.

“They, um, just feel a bit heavy is all.”

I stared into her eyes, wondering if I might find some of those secrets I craved and dreaded, there in her gaze. As it turned out, it didn’t matter whether she was dancing or smiling or frowning, she was still magnetic.

And I didn’t want to resist it anymore. But I had to.

I made sure she was steady on her feet and then let go.

“Your turn,” she said.

“My cheeks feel fine.”

She shook her head, smiling. “I meant your name.”

I kept walking, determined to just get her home.

“Most ­people call me Hunt.”

Everyone called me Hunt except my family. I don’t know why I hadn’t just told her Hunt straight out. Maybe I wanted her to know some of my secrets, too.

“Should I call you that? Am I most ­people?”