Unlikely Hero

by Marie , Jordan

  “You’re being ridiculous. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “Try me, Troy,” Allen replies, basically daring him. He also makes sure his body is between me and Troy now. Even in my mini-panic at discovering Troy is probably following me around, I recognize what he’s doing and I can’t help but like that he’s protecting me. I don’t know if I’ve ever had that in my life. Actually I know I haven’t, not by a man. My mother always did, but this… this is different and it feels different.

  “I didn’t realize this was the kind of man you wanted in your life, Jess. It’s so disappointing. You deserve better,” Troy says, giving Allen and me both a look of thinly disguised hate. He turns to walk away and I find myself screaming.

  “My name is Jess-ie!”

  Troy looks over his shoulder and this time the hate is crystal clear—so much so that it turns my stomach. He doesn’t reply, though, just turns away and keeps walking.

  I watch him for a few minutes while I try to suck in my emotions. Allen turns to me, his broad chest filling my vison as his hand circles against the side of my neck. I feel his touch and my pulse leaps, but I don’t move. My eyes concentrate on the faded black color of the jacket he’s wearing. He applies pressure and his thumb moves under my chin as he tilts my head so I’m forced to look at him.

  His face is closed off. I can’t tell what he’s thinking for the life of me.

  “Hi,” I whisper when it seems the silence has gone on too long.

  I get an immediate reward when Allen’s face goes from closed off to a smile…

  A really beautiful smile.

  Chapter 6

  Allen

  “I knew the moment I saw you that you were going to be trouble,” I mumble to myself.

  “What?” she asks, her eyes round with surprise.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you shouldn’t be traveling so late at night alone?”

  “I wasn’t traveling, Allen. I was closing my shop,” she argues, annoyance bleeding through her voice.

  “You’re cute when you’re pissed off, Mouse.”

  “Again with that nickname.”

  “You really have something against it?”

  “Women would rather be called sexy, babe, beautiful, heck, even sugar.”

  “Sugar?” I ask, unable to keep the laughter out of my voice.

  “That would be preferable to being called a rodent.”

  “Some people love mice so much they keep them as pets.”

  “And some feed them to snakes for dinner,” she huffs and that’s the moment I lose it.

  I laugh, even when I try not to. Jessie couldn’t understand what a gift that is. She has no idea and I can see—even while laughing—that she doesn’t like it. She’s offended by it. She doesn’t understand the miracle she’s given me.

  “Would you really prefer I call you sugar?”

  Her nose scrunches up and that looks so cute I need to resist the urge to kiss her.

  “Is that my only other option?” she grumbles and again… I laugh.

  “Trouble,” I answer her, shaking my head.

  “What?”

  “You are major trouble, Jessie.”

  “That’s not nice,” she says.

  “It’s still very true. Where are you parked?”

  “At my house,” she answers.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I live a few streets down, so I just walk to my shop.”

  “You walk…”

  “Yeah.”

  “You walk to work, alone.”

  “I believe that’s what I said.”

  “What happens if you’re attacked? If some whack-job jumps out of the shadows and grabs you?”

  “This is Saint Augustine, Allen. That’s not likely to happen.”

  “It’s a highly populated vacation area. It’s more likely to happen here than anywhere,” I growl, not believing that she could be so naïve.

  “I’ve lived here my whole life and it hasn’t happened yet.” She says this while walking down the street. I take the few steps to catch up with her, grab her upper arm and pull her back around to face me.

  “You’re not walking home, Jessie.”

  “Yes, I am. I’ve had a long day and thanks to that idiot Troy and now you, a stressful one. I’m going home, I’m going to take a shower so hot my skin will melt, then I’m going to cuddle on my couch with Chloe.”

  “Chloe?” I ask, wondering if I misread the signs and she’s into women, or maybe both. I’m not sure how I feel about that. If I give a woman my cock, I don’t want to worry about if she’d rather have pussy.

  “My cat,” she mumbles, yanking her arm out of my hold and starting to walk away again.

  I find myself falling into step beside her. I’m grinning, thinking at least if she’s cuddling up on the couch with a pussy, this is one I can compete with.

  “Tell me about Troy.”

  “Why are you smiling like that?” she asks, and it’s only then I realize the grin is still on my face.

  “I was realizing that if you’re in love with pussy at least it’s one I can compete with.”

  “I don’t understand…” she says, her face confused, wrinkles on her forehead as she replays my words in her head. I’ve never been around a woman so easy to read, but with Jessie, I know exactly what’s going on with one look. That’s confirmed when she blushes and comprehension dawns on her—shining like a flashlight in the black of night.

  “Oh,” she gasps and I’m pretty sure she couldn’t say anything else, because she opens her mouth, then closes it. Opens it again and snaps it shut yet again. The look on her face makes me… laugh. “You weren’t this annoying the first time we met,” she huffs.

  “What was I?”

  “I wouldn’t go all cocky. I doubt you could compete with Chloe. She’s special,” Jessie answers, completely ignoring my question.

  “I’ll make a note,” I tell her.

  We walk for a bit without talking. It’s not an awkward silence. It’s actually kind of enjoyable, but I smile when I hear her voice again. It has a tone that makes me feel… alive.

  “Why are you here?” she asks.

  Isn’t that a million dollar question…

  I push my fingers through my hair, completely serious now. I stop walking and she seems to catch the change in my mood and stops too. She stands there, looking up at me and that venom inside of me that stays deep inside—hidden—begins swirling. I beat it down, but in the face of Jessie’s innocence, it’s harder. I should stay away from her. I’ve tried for three days, but she’s been on my mind… teasing me… tempting me.

  I should walk away. I need to. Jessie doesn’t need someone like me in her life. I’m not fit to touch her. I don’t know a fuck of a lot, but I know she deserves better than an ex-junkie. I’m clean. I’ve been clean for years, but that doesn’t erase my past…or what drove me to use the drugs.

  “Allen?” she asks softly, her voice changing. That’s when I realize I am staring at her, but not really seeing her.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” I tell her honestly.

  “But you are,” she whispers.

  “I shouldn’t be,” I repeat again.

  Jessie reaches up and the tips of her fingers drag through my beard. The touch is gentle, but it’s the look in her eyes that I actually feel. It’s almost physical and it seeps into the darkest parts of me, calming the darkness like nothing else has.

  “Come upstairs and have coffee with me. We’ll talk,” she says. I look beyond her to the building in front of us and the purple painted door on the side. It’s an old brick building in the middle of historic St. Augustine. The bright purple seems out of place, but I like it because, it’s just like Jessie… Unexpected. “Allen?” she prompts and the urge to leave is strong. I should say no.

  I don’t.

  “Okay,” I tell her, knowing better, but unable to stop myself.

  Chapter 7

  Jessie

  “You shouldn’
t invite strangers into your home,” Allen murmurs as we make it to the top of the stairs and I unlock the door to my apartment.

  “I didn’t. I invited you,” I answer with a shrug, opening the door and walking in. I stand there holding the door open as Allen looks in, clearly unsure about coming inside.

  “You don’t know me. I could be a rapist or a murderer.”

  “Fair enough. Have you murdered anyone?”

  “No one that didn’t deserve it,” he answers and his face looks extremely solemn.

  That wasn’t the answer I was expecting and I can tell it hits a nerve for him—maybe even reminding him of something he doesn’t like. I should be scared. His answer should terrify me, but for some reason it doesn’t.

  “Come inside, Allen,” I tell him, leaning on the door. He looks at me intently. For a minute I think he’s going to turn me down and leave. I’m preparing for it, but he crosses the threshold, surprising me.

  I close the door as he passes me and I lean against it as I try and get my thoughts in order.

  “You have a nice place, Jessie.”

  I turn to look at him. He’s so incredibly tall and broad that he fills my small living room. He also looks completely out of place in a room with pale green walls and pink flowery accents and white furniture. I almost want to giggle, but Allen is still lost in his thoughts, I can tell, and he looks unhappy and I don’t like that.

  “It’s small and honestly the furniture was here when I moved in, but it’s comfortable,” I explain while I walk into the adjoining kitchen.

  “It’s sweet without being overrun with color. It’s peaceful. It fits you.”

  “You make me sound so exciting, Allen. I’m starting to understand why you call me Mouse now.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being peaceful, Jessie. It’s something most would kill to have in their lives.”

  I think about his words while I fix the coffeemaker. I hear a chair scrape against the floor and look over to see Allen pulling out a stool from the bar. He sits down, but he looks extremely uncomfortable.

  “You don’t look at peace right now, Allen.”

  “I shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles, rubbing the side of his face as he looks at me.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m… We’re never going to work.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask, blinking. I feel like he slapped me; that’s how dramatically his words jar me.

  “Jessie, you and I are too different.”

  “I don’t remember us ever dating for you to determine anything about me.”

  “There’s a pull between us. You can’t deny that. I know you felt it that day in your shop,” he says.

  “This always happens to me,” I grumble under my breath.

  “What happens?”

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I hadn’t planned on him hearing me, but it doesn’t really matter.

  “What happens?” he asks again, stressing the words.

  “Crazy men,” I mutter with a sigh.

  “What?”

  “I attract crazy men.”

  “Jessie—”

  “Allen, I really like you.”

  “I—”

  “And I mean, I really like you. I like you in a I’m-thinking-of-sneaking-into-my-bedroom-and-putting-on-my-good-underwear kind of way.”

  I watch as my words register and, despite the worries clogging his mind, he starts laughing.

  “I prefer no underwear if you were wondering.”

  “That would be good advice and maybe I would listen if you weren’t sitting at my table wishing you were anywhere else.”

  “Jessie—”

  “If you want to go, Allen, just go. But if you want to stay, how about I fix some dinner, we watch a movie and actually get to know each other before you decide we don’t even deserve a shot?”

  “Trust me, Jessie. I’m only trying to protect you.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be protected,” I answer.

  “It’s too late to cook. I can take you out—”

  “How about I order a pizza?”

  He studies me and I’m pretty sure he wants to say no, but for whatever reason he nods his head in agreement.

  I smile, really glad I won this battle—even if I’m not sure why.

  “So, what do you like on your pizza?”

  “Everything,” he says.

  “Everything? Even anchovies?”

  “Well, no, that’s not standard pizza topping though.”

  “So to qualify, everything standard,” I grin.

  “Quit being cute,” he warns playfully. “Order whatever you want, I’m sure I’ll eat it.”

  “I don’t think you’d like the way I order pizza so I’ll order half your standard way and half my way.”

  “Now I’m curious to see what you order on yours,” he says, as I turn to pick up the telephone.

  Suddenly tonight holds a lot more promise than it did when I left work.

  Chapter 8

  Allen

  “Your half of the pizza looks… sad.”

  “Allen, I don’t think pizza can look sad,” Jessie laughs, staring at the opened box on her coffee table.

  “It doesn’t have any cheese.”

  “I don’t like cheese,” she says, now she’s staring at me.

  I know, because I can’t pull my gaze away from her face. She’s so beautiful. There’s a light that comes from her that shines so bright that I’d swear it somehow warms up the darkness inside of me when she’s close by.

  “There’s no pepperoni on the pizza either, Mouse. I don’t think I’ve ever seen pizza without pepperoni.”

  “There’s sausage,” she says, grinning. “I like sausage.”

  “You’re beautiful,” I whisper.

  I didn’t mean to say those words, they just slip out, but I don’t regret them—especially when I see the way her face softens with pleasure.

  “Maybe you should get your eyes checked,” she mumbles, blushing deeply.

  “I’ve got twenty-twenty vision, Jessie. I definitely know when I see beauty staring at me.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Allen.”

  “Do what?”

  “I know who I am. I don’t need you to try and boost my self-esteem. I’m never going to be pretty.”

  I stare at her, wondering who on earth would ever make her feel like she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world. She is to me.

  “Who was he?”

  “He?”

  “Who was it that failed to make you see how special you are, Mouse?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Jessie. I see it in your eyes.”

  “Isn’t this kind of… serious talk considering we don’t really know each other?”

  “I think this is part of getting to know each other. I’ve been through shit, it makes me serious most of the time.”

  “What kind of shit?”

  “We’ll get into that later,” I tell her, and even as I say it, I’m pretty sure we never will. I don’t want her to know about my past. There are just things that you don’t burden a good woman down with—and Jessie… she’s good. Good and clean. I know it.

  “That’s kind of a double standard,” she points out.

  “Quit stalling, Mouse.”

  “You’re very bossy,” she mumbles.

  “You have no idea,” I respond, unable to stop my smile.

  “There honestly wasn’t anyone, unless you count my father. I don’t think he liked me.”

  “You don’t think?”

  “He said shit all the time, but it’s kind of… murky in my brain.”

  “Jessie.”

  “I’m serious. He didn’t stay around along, he left when I was pretty young, so it’s not like I have a lot of memories of him. The ones I do have, weren’t bad… they just weren’t very good either.”

  “Do you know what happened to him?”

  “I saw
him at my grandmother’s funeral.”

  “Did you talk?”

  “He said he was sorry about Nana. I said me too. Does that count?”

  She’s trying to be flippant and forcing a smile, but I can tell that she’s hurt by the memory.

  “I’m sorry, Mouse.”

  “Allen—”

  I slide my hand along the side of her neck, her skin soft and warm. I drag my thumb against her pulse. I stare into her eyes, then lean down to kiss the crease on her brow that betrays her sadness.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her again, because I have no idea how to make it better. “It might not be the same, but you stopped my breath from the first moment you spoke to me. I saw you and my world tilted on its axis.”

  “If that’s a line, Allen, it’s a really good one.”

  “It’s not a line, Mouse.”

  “Can we revisit the whole nickname thing? Something sexy and exciting. I mean if I have to be an animal, can I be exotic? A gazelle or something.”

  “A gazelle?” I ask, unable to stop my laughter.

  “Yeah.”

  “What the fuck is a gazelle, Jessie?”

  “Umm… I think it’s like a deer with striped horns.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  “It’s not like I go on safaris and things,” she mumbles, looking so unbelievably cute I lean down and take her mouth before I can talk myself out of it.

  It’s probably the best kiss of my life. It’s sweet and spicy at the same time. It’s peace and heat. It’s touchable. Our tongues slide against each other in perfect harmony, as if they were meant to… as if they were made to.

  When we break apart, Jessie’s eyes begin to open slowly. I like that, it’s like she was so deeply affected by our kiss that it takes her time to come down from the high. I have that effect with drugs. I’ve never had that effect with a kiss, and it’s a fucking million times better. It makes me feel… alive in a way I haven’t before… not once in my life, not since the devil got his hooks into me…

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she murmurs, pulling me away from the nightmares that have settled into my bones.