by Quinn Loftis
Tara sent a quick text to Carol to make sure she was okay and rule out that it might be the police at the front door to tell her something awful had happened to her foster mom.
How’s work?
It only took a minute for a reply to come through.
Busy. You okay?
Tara released the breath she’d been holding, relieved that Carol was okay.
Yes, ma’am.
Sleep well. See you in the morning.
As quickly as the relief came, it fled as Tara heard the pounding get even louder. It almost sounded as if the person had resorted to kicking the door in an effort to get someone to answer. Making the decision to open it, Tara figured having someone on the phone with her while she answered it so they could call 911 if something happened would be at least a little smarter than answering it without anyone knowing that something was wrong. Tara picked Shelly’s name from her contacts. Her friend answered on the first ring.
“Please tell me you’re calling because either some fine guy with a name that starts with an E showed up at your house and ravished you and now you want to tell me every delicious detail, or you figured out more about your mutation and now you know your mission.”
Tara headed toward the front door as she spoke. “Only you would think that could possibly be the reason I was calling, despite the fact that I’ve never even kissed a guy. And you really need to let the mutation thing go. I’m not joining the Justice League.”
“I’ve told you before, T, you lack creative thinking.”
“I’m getting pretty creative about all the ways I’m going to kick your ass if you keep getting on my nerves.” Tara growled as she looked through the peephole.
She gasped and nearly dropped the phone as she quickly stepped back from the door. The knocking started again, and she jumped and dropped the phone. “Dammit,” she snapped as she quickly reached down and swiped it up.
“What was that?” Tara heard Shelly ask as she put the phone back to her ear. “Was that someone knocking? Who in the fire of Hades is knocking on your door at eleven o’clock at night?”
“That’s why I called you,” Tara whispered.
“Why are we whispering?” Shelly asked.
“Because Elias is on the other side of the door.”
“What?” Shelly screeched.
“Shhhh!” Tara hushed her BFFF. “Quit freaking out. It’s making me freak out.”
“Tara, answer the door please.”
“OMG.” Shelly sighed. “That accent is just as hot as it was the first time I heard it.”
It was. It really was, Tara mentally agreed.
“Tara?” Elias called out again.
“I’m going to answer the door,” she said to Shelly as she reached for the lock.
“Wait,” Shelly said. “Don’t you think you should ask him why he’s at your door so late?”
Tara agreed that would be the smart thing to do, but there was another part of her, apparently the dumber part, that wanted to see him and didn’t really care why he was at the door so late. Something inside of her thirsted for the sight of him, and it was so disturbing that she didn’t even want to consider what it meant. She flipped the lock on the door and pulled it open.
Elias was standing there, dripping wet. Both hands were resting on either side of the door frame, and his head was hanging forward, causing his dark, wet bangs to partially obscure his face. His grey, long-sleeved shirt clung tightly to his skin, leaving very little to the imagination. Tara swallowed and looked back up to his face. He’d lifted his head and was staring right at her. Aquamarine eyes were drinking her in as if it had been weeks since he’d seen her, rather than merely a day. Elias seemed almost as desperate to see her as she was to see him. That wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be. But it also wasn’t normal that she had a body that couldn’t be injured … yet she did.
“Tara!” Shelly’s loud voice thundered through the phone, but all Tara could do was stand there staring mutely at the man on her doorstep.
Moving slowly, as if he didn’t want to spook her, Elias reached forward and took the phone from her hand. He lifted it to his own ear, and with his eyes still on her, he spoke. “Good evening, Shelly.” He paused as Shelly spoke. Tara could hear her friend’s muted voice, but she must not be yelling anymore because she couldn’t make out the words.
“I assure you that Tara is quite safe with me,” Elias told her. “I just wanted to have a chat with her.” He paused and then continued. “Yes, I could have called. But I was in the neighborhood.” He paused again. “Those are all very good questions that I am not going to answer. I will make sure Tara calls you once I leave so you will know I have kept my word. Goodbye.” He ended the call and pocketed her phone as he stepped into the house, forcing Tara to take a step back or become intimately acquainted with his very wet, very broad chest.
As he shut the door and the lock clicked into place, Tara finally got her mouth to work. “Why are you here?”
“For the reason I told Shelly,” he said as he turned to look at her. “I told you I would see you soon, and I keep my word. Like I told Shelly, I wanted to chat.”
“Why?”
“Do you have a towel? I’d rather not drip water all over your house.”
“That won’t be a problem since we aren’t leaving the foyer.” Tara crossed her arms in front of her. Her shock at having him show up was wearing off, and the ire he seemed to cause so easily was returning. Tara liked that. She could deal with irritation. She couldn’t deal with her need to be close to him. Stupid, weird feelings.
He glanced around the house and then cleared his throat. “I’m not a danger to you.”
“Be that as it may, I’m not going to parade a strange man through my house. I shouldn’t have even let you inside.”
“Why did you?” Elias rubbed his hand through his hair, causing water droplets to fall all around him. The guy looked like he was on a magazine shoot with human-engineered weather and perfectly choreographed raindrops rolling down his cheek, neck, and under the collar of his shirt.
Tara’s gaze snapped back to his face when he cleared his throat. “I don’t know,” she finally answered.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
The knowing look in his eyes, as if he could tell she was lying, made her growl as she turned on her heel. There was no point standing in the foyer if he was going to stick around, and it wasn’t like she could physically make him leave. And she wouldn’t call the cops because he wasn’t doing anything wrong, and yes, she knew those were all excuses. Tara didn’t look behind her to see if he was following. She knew he was because his eyes were burning a hole into her back. It was the same feeling she’d had after school in the parking lot.
She turned right and headed down the hall, past Carol’s room, past the spare bedroom, until she was in front of her own bedroom.
“Are we going to go inside or just stare at the door?” he asked from behind her … much too close behind her.
Tara hesitated, unsure allowing Elias into the confines of her own room was such a bright idea. It felt so … intimate. But then again, at eleven o’clock at night, while she was home alone, she’d opened the door to a man she’d met only a day ago. Apparently bright wasn’t a character quality she was trying to achieve these days.
She pushed the door open and walked in. Tara quickly glanced around to make sure there weren’t any bras hanging over a doorknob or bedpost and then breathed a sigh of relief. That would have been awkward. Or more awkward than it already was. She walked further in and then turned to face Elias. He was looking at her, not at the room.
“So, what did you want to chat about? Probably should make it quick,” she said. When he said nothing and simply continued to look at her, she huffed. Super mature. “You wanted to talk. So talk. If not, then I’ll walk you out now, and we can both get on with our evening.” She took a step toward him, but instead of backing up, he stepped toward her.
“Oh dear.” Tara breathed out
as her feet bumped with the toes of his shoes. She stepped back, quickly turned, and moved around him, a technique she’d performed in soccer a million times to fake out an opponent.
“I do want to chat,” he said. The sound of him sitting in her desk chair kept her from just walking out of her room. “Forgive me if I need a moment to gather my thoughts. I feel”—he paused for a moment and then continued—“out of sorts when I’m around you.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. She sighed, walked over to her bed, and sat down. Tara crossed her legs and propped her elbows on her knees, her hands playing idly with a string on her bedspread. “I have no idea why I would make you feel out of sorts. And why would you want to talk to me? You don’t know me.”
He stared at her silently. She tried not to squirm under his scrutiny and was about to look away when he finally spoke.
“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?”
“Fifty percent of people who answer a question with a question are hiding something serious,” Tara said.
“Really?” he asked as he settled back in the chair, propped his right leg on the knee of his left one, and rested his clasped hands in his lap.
Just make yourself at home. “No. That’s crap. I just made it up because it’s annoying when a person answers a bloody question with a question.”
“I apologize,” he said, sounding so reasonable, which irritated her even more because she felt so unreasonable. “I’m not trying to annoy you.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Checking on you. You’re a teenage girl … home alone … at night. That’s not exactly the safest situation.”
“And you’re an older guy … in my house … with me … alone … late at night,” Tara pointed out. “How safe is that? And how’d you know I was alone?”
“Lucky guess. So, why’d you let me in if you thought the situation wasn’t safe?” he asked again. His eyes narrowed as he shifted forward, uncrossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. The confident way in which he moved and the smoothness of it was mesmerizing.
Tara had to force herself to keep her attention on his face despite the intensity of his gaze. She decided to tell him the truth. Tara might be a lot of things, but one of the things she wasn’t was a coward. And like the words of the poem she wrote, she wanted desperately to not be a prisoner to her anger and fear. “Because I wanted to see you, too.”
There was a subtle shift in his demeanor. Something possessive flashed in his eyes but was gone when she blinked. The silence between them was filled with such thick tension that Tara felt as if she could reach out and grab it with her hands. She didn’t understand what the pull between them was or why it was, but she knew it was frustrating the ever-loving-crap out of her. Was it one sided? Was she the only one feeling this crazy attraction? He said he wanted to see her, wanted to talk to her. Was it because he was attracted to her as well? Was it because she was in his every thought, driving him as mad as he was driving her?
She was about to ask him a question—one she wasn’t even sure she wanted an answer to—but then her phone beeped. Tara looked around for it and remembered Elias had slipped it into his pocket after having hung up on Shelly. She turned back to Elias when she heard a deep grumble, like a growl come from him.
He clutched her phone in his firm grasp, his knuckles white from squeezing the device. He stared at the screen as if it had somehow personally offended him.
“Can I have my phone back?” Tara asked as she held out her hand.
His eyes flicked up to her and then back down to the phone. Tara felt something cold rush over her at the anger she saw reflected in those sea blue eyes. Whatever he saw on her phone was enraging him. The tension she’d felt moments ago had changed into a force pressing down on her.
“Elias,” she said, trying to make her voice sound firm despite the fact she was feeling anything but confident. “That’s my phone, and whatever you’re reading is private.”
“You’re going on a date,” he began and let out a slow breath before continuing, “with him?”
“What?” She’d had enough. She slipped off the bed with more effort than it should take and reached forward, wrapping her hand around the top of the phone. Tara tugged. He didn’t release it.
“Answer me,” he said in a dangerous whisper.
Tara’s fear turned into anger. She knew he was talking about Tucker. What she didn’t know was why he thought she was going on a date with him. She hadn’t agreed to that, and even if she had, what right did Elias have to be angry over it? Did he want to have a right to be angry about it? Did she want him to have the right to be angry? Bloody hell! Why, whenever she was around him, did she start psychoanalyzing her thoughts and playing twenty questions with herself?
“Yes,” she blurted out simply because he was pissing her off. “I’m going on a date with him. Now give me my damn phone.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Tara,” Elias said, as he used his free hand to lift her chin so she had to look at him. “Cursing isn’t ladylike.” The anger was still in his eyes, but it had faded from his voice. Now there was something else, something that felt very much like seduction.
Tara sucked in a quick breath and tugged at her phone again. He finally released it, and she dropped her eyes to the screen as she headed back to the bed and some much-needed space from the intensity that was Elias Creed. Taking a moment to collect herself, she read the text that had obviously put the idea in Elias’s head that she was going on a date with Tucker.
“I’m picking you up Friday at 7. Call it a date, call it two friends going out. IDC. I just want to hang out with you and your specialness. Xoxo -T
What the hell? Xoxo? What was that about? Tara wanted to frown at the screen, but she could feel Elias’s eyes on her and knew he’d be reading into her every tiny movement no matter how subtle. Did she want to go on a date with Tucker? No. But did she want to irritate Elias because she was so thoroughly annoyed that he affected her so intensely? Abso-freaking-lutely.
She sent a quick text back.
Fine. I’ll call it coerced fun with a not-quite friend.
A second later, her phone beeped.
Ouch. But I’ll take it. Night. Xoxo -T
Unable to help herself, she rolled her eyes and set her phone behind her, out of Elias’s reach, in case he got any ideas. When she finally looked at him, she was surprised to find he wasn’t watching her at all. He was staring at what must have been his own phone. Had he gotten a text, too? Was it from a girl? Good grief! Nope. Not going there.
“Why are you home alone?” Elias asked, not taking his eyes off his phone. Tara found this irked her but that was stupid because, well, it just was.
“Carol is a nurse and works night shift sometimes.”
“Carol?” he asked and finally looked up at her. “Not mom?”
She shook her head. “Carol is my foster mom. And you should know that since you read my aptitude test,” she pointed out.
He ignored her statement and asked, “How long?”
“Since I was thirteen.” Which he should also know, but there was no sense in pointing it out again. He’d probably just ignore her.
“Are your parents alive?” He finally looked up from his phone, turning the intense attention back on her.
Tara shook her head. She saw understanding in his eyes before he spoke.
“I lost my parents when I was six,” he said quietly. “But I had my grandparents.”
“My parents were killed in a car accident,” she said after a few silent heartbeats. “I was brought to Carol a couple weeks later.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, luv,” Elias said gently.
He truly meant it. Tara could see it in his eyes. The anger that had been there was completely gone and replaced by concern. He hurt for her. She didn’t understand why, but he did. She hadn’t missed that he’d called her ‘love.’ It would be stupid to read anything into it. She knew it was a British term commonly used
. Who didn’t? But that didn’t mean her skin didn’t break out in goose bumps and her face didn’t flush. “Thank you,” she said honestly.
He stood to his feet suddenly, and Tara found herself scrambling off the bed. She straightened her top and cleared her throat as he watched her.
“It’s late. I should let you get some rest,” he said, his demeanor much more subdued than when he’d arrived.
Tara didn’t want him to leave, but she didn’t want him to know it. Geeze, being attracted to someone was emotionally exhausting. “Yeah, of course,” she said and motioned toward her door. “I’ll walk you out.”
He held out his hand, indicating her to lead the way, and she once again felt his eyes on her back the entire way to the front door. She started to open it, but it was pushed quickly closed. Tara gasped as she looked up and saw Elias’s large hand pressed to the door above her head. She felt his presence right behind her and could feel the heat from his body against her back. Tara closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, specifically that she actually kept breathing because she was finding it very difficult to draw in any air.
“Breathe, luv.” Elias’s voice interrupted her thoughts. His lips were beside her ear, and his warm breath caressed her neck. “You’re going to pass out if you don’t take a breath, Tara.”
She sucked in a sharp breath and pressed her forehead to the cold surface of the door. What. The. Hell. What was going on with her? He was a guy. She’d been around hundreds of them in her lifetime, and none of them had ever induced loss of ability to breathe. Then again, none of those previous guys had ever made her feel the way Elias did.
“Why did you text me today?” She needed to know if it was only her. Was this connection she felt only one sided? Tara wasn’t about to tear down her walls for a guy who was merely curious about her, not when she knew that her feelings for him had the potential to grow into so much more.
