Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily)

by Rachel Carrington

  Francine pokes her head back in the open doorway, grinning at my impromptu pirouette. “I forgot to tell you I put some condoms in that cute little purse hanging on the doorknob of the closet.”

  “Francine!” Though there’s heated denial in my voice, I can’t look her in the eyes. How is it that she knows so much when she isn’t that much older than I am? Unless she wears her age a hell of a lot better than I think she does.

  “It’s only dinner.” The words sound hollow.

  “To start with, but the way the two of you are together, I’ll be surprised if I see you again before Monday.”

  Sure my cheeks are burning, I turn to look at the purse behind me. “I have to work tomorrow morning.”

  “If you have other plans, I can cover for you.” She chuckles and starts to back away, but I call her name again. “Yeah, honey?”

  “I feel like I’m getting ready for the prom, and everyone knows what happens on prom night.”

  “And those who don’t go to prom are jealous as hell the next morning.” Her grin threatens to split her face. “Just go enjoy yourself. No one here is judging. I’ll be the jealous one sitting on the couch tonight.”

  Adam picks me up in his black, shiny truck with chrome fenders. It’s so high off the ground he has to help me up into the passenger seat. His hands linger a little longer than necessary on my hips before he lifts me. The leather interior smells like him. Warm. Woodsy. Intoxicating.

  He climbs up beside me and looks at me, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe, while the truck is idling. “You look incredible.”

  I smile. “I feel pretty close to that way, too.” Without restricting myself, I reach over and touch his knee. “So where are you taking me?”

  His hand scoops up mine. He kisses my knuckles then puts my hand back on my own side of the truck. “In a truck this size, it’s best if I keep both hands on the wheel. You can help me out by keeping both of yours over there.”

  Heat flashes down my spine. I barely know him, but I know I don’t want to waste this chance, this moment. Tonight there would be no doubts, no regrets. Only second chances. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He hasn’t backed out of the driveway yet. Hazel eyes meet mine. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Not a busy restaurant,” I whisper, almost scared of saying the words aloud. I’m taking a risk, and my excitement is edged with uncertainty. I can’t be sure I’m really out from under Mark’s thumb. But I don’t want to hide from this connection with Adam. He makes me feel…well, he just makes me feel. And if I don’t take the risk that’s right in front of me, I know I’ll regret it forever.

  “There’s no rush, Emily.” Adam leans in and brushes his lips over mine.

  I catch hold of his shirt before he can move back to his side of the truck. We stare at each other for a long moment before one of us moves. Maybe both of us move. However it happens, we connect, kissing with such abandon we might as well be in a hotel room.

  Something ignites inside of me, and I let my hands travel everywhere. His arms. His neck. His leg. And below his belt buckle where his hardness presses against my palm.

  He makes a noise that sounds like a groan and catches my wrist. “Maybe we should go somewhere we don’t have an audience.” He indicates the front window of Francine’s house with a jerk of his head.

  I shift my gaze in time to see the curtain fall back into place. I don’t know whether to laugh or curse. Adam kisses me again and squeezes my injured thigh as he starts to pull back.

  Pain shoots down my leg and into my calf. I try to muffle the cry, but it’s not low enough to prevent Adam from hearing. His gaze whips to mine. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I paste a smile on my face though my leg is on fire. My hands clench into fists because I don’t want to rub the wound. Sweat pops out on the back of my neck as waves of nausea roll through me.

  “Don’t give me that. I heard you. Where are you hurt?”

  I can see him doing the mental calculations. Where did he last touch me? Was it my face? My arm? My leg. His eyes clear, and he hovers his hand over my thigh. “Is it here?”

  I don’t move because I see our evening being shredded because of Mark even without his presence. “Adam, it’s fine. Let’s just go.” No amount of convincing is going to make him leave. The determination on his face is fierce.

  “As soon as you let me see the leg.” He touches the fabric of the skirt gently and begins inching it upwards. “I pictured doing this at a different time and in a much different way, but…” He stops talking when he sees the line of bandages I’ve used to cover the mark.

  I cover one of his hands with both of mine. “It’s just a small cut. It stings more than I thought it would.”

  “I’m trained in first aid, Emily, and a cut wouldn’t have caused you that much pain nor would it require that much bandaging. Let’s try the truth this time.”

  Instinct is telling me to get out of the truck. He wants answers I can’t give. Shouldn’t give. I close my eyes and tug his hand away. “Okay, it’s not a cut, but it’s okay. I’m taking care of it.”

  His face tightens, and his jaw clenches. “So what is it?”

  Now I get annoyed, and I reach for the door handle of the truck. It pisses me off that he is so insistent, like it hasn’t even occurred to him that this might be something too personal to share with him. “Maybe I should just go. We can do this another night.” I’m sure my tone tells him otherwise.

  He takes hold of my wrist. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong with your leg, Emily? Are you protecting someone?”

  The question draws a laugh out of me, but it’s bitter. As if Mark needs anyone to protect him. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  The fingers around my wrist go gentle, and he starts stroking my skin with the pad of his thumb. “How can I? You’ve been hurt. I want to make sure you’re okay. And even though I don’t understand why, I need to make sure.”

  His words melt me, and before I can think about the many reasons why I shouldn’t, I raise my shirt to just above the top bandage and slowly peel it back. Then I move to the second one. And the third. As the blistered skin finally comes into view, Adam’s curse is so furious and loud, I’m surprised Francine doesn’t come running out of the house.

  “Who did this to you? Your boyfriend? Is this why you left him?” He snags my wrist as I try to cover it again. “MM. Are those his initials? What’s the bastard’s name, Emily?”

  “You have no jurisdiction in his county.”

  “I don’t give a shit about jurisdiction.”

  “I know you don’t, but you can’t arrest him.”

  “Someone will. That son-of-a-bitch is going to jail, Emily I promise you.” He raises his hand and strokes my cheek. I hear each labored breath he takes as he tries to rein in his temper. Then he draws me close and kisses my cheek “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  “The hospital?” I sit up straighter and lower my skirt. “What are you talking about?”

  “That wound’s infected, badly unless I miss my guess. You need to be on an antibiotic before it gets any worse, and since no other places are open, the hospital is it.”

  “I don’t have to go tonight.” The last thing I want to do is spend the evening in the emergency room. “I can see a doctor tomorrow. The emergency room isn’t for cuts and scrapes.”

  Adam shifts the truck into reverse. “That’s isn’t just a scrape, Emily.” The fury is back in his voice. “And, no, you can’t wait. You’ve waited long enough as it is.” As though sensing his anger was taking its toll on me, he softens and covers my hand with one of his. “I’m sorry.”

  I keep my gaze trained on his fingers. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m sure you’re used to dealing with stuff like this.”

  As he rolls the truck out onto the road, he glances at me. “Stuff like what?”

  I can’t say the words aloud. It sickens to me even think about associating my
name with domestic violence. But that’s exactly what this boils down to. I place one hand over my stomach in a useless attempt to quell the nausea that has taken up permanent residence in my stomach.

  “Hey,” Adam prods me. “I don’t lump everyone or everything into the same category. And, no, I’m not used to dealing with stuff like this. Men in this area don’t treat their women like…” he breaks off, but I finish his sentence for him.

  “Cattle?”

  He winces, telling me I accurately pinpointed the word. “Tell me this is why you left him.”

  “I left him. The reasons don’t really matter.” I look out the window, though it’s already too dark for me to see much of anything except the brief flashes as we pass the streetlights.

  “His ass needs to be in jail.” His words drag my gaze back to his profile. Though his eyes are on the road, I know his entire focus isn’t there.

  “Well, you can’t go after him.”

  “I don’t even know his name,” he reminds me.

  “I doubt that will stop you.”

  He smiles and takes hold of my hand again. “And I bet you thought you didn’t know me.”

  “It’s too soon for me to know you.”

  “Everything isn’t always about time, Emily. Sometimes, just the feeling is enough.”

  “Feelings go away, Adam. They can’t always be trusted.”

  “They don’t go away if they’re real.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “And sometimes, you just know.”

  Does he know? Whatever is happening between us is intense. Powerful. But is it real? I know I can’t tell the difference between reality and a deluded sense of it.

  “You’re wondering how I know.”

  “Didn’t know you read minds, too, Sheriff.” I try to play off his words, but he’s not buying it. With a sigh, I nod. “This. Us. It’s a little overwhelming.”

  “There’s nothing saying we have to rush. Let’s just take our time.” He turns my hand over and presses a kiss to my palm.

  The warmth spreads through me like hot cocoa on a bitterly cold night. I curl my fingers around his and look out the window just as the headlights of the truck illuminate the ten mile sign to the hospital. I slide my hand out of his and resist the urge to cower by the door.

  Hospitals terrify me. The last time I’d been inside one, I’d had to say goodbye to both of my parents after a head-on collision had killed them. But Adam has no way of knowing about my revulsion unless I tell him.

  “I hate hospitals,” I whisper in the darkness. “People die there.” It sounds childish, but it’s pure honesty.

  “People get better there, too.” His response is simplistic, not an attempt to discredit my fears. Just a matter of fact addition to my thoughts. I’m learning that’s Adam.

  We drive along in silence for ten minutes before he speaks again, the sound of his voice shocking me. “Why do you hate hospitals?”

  A lump forms in my throat. I’d brought the subject up so I couldn’t blame him for asking. He knows precious little about me. An opening like that is bound to stir up the curiosity. I keep my reply as simple as possible. “My parents died six years ago. A hospital was the last place I saw them.”

  “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t pry for more information, but I’m compelled to keep talking.

  “They were on their way home from a camping trip. A car swerved into their lane, and Dad drove off the road to avoid hitting it. They went over the ridge.” I taste blood and realize I’ve bitten my lower lip. “I got to the hospital in time to say goodbye. The doctor said he thought they were both holding on until I arrived.” A tear leaks from my eye and trickles down my cheek. “There’s no way he could know that, but for a hysterical, nineteen-year-old, it helped.”

  “I’m really sorry. I know how hard that can be. It’s not the same as losing them suddenly, but I lost mine about a year apart from each other. I’d just turned twenty-five when my mom passed. My dad just stopped living after that.”

  I squeeze his hand. “It’s funny that growing up I sometimes wished they were out of my life because of all the rules. I never wished them dead, but I wanted freedom. Once they were gone, I wanted them back so desperately. It took me over a year to start functioning again.”

  “You’ve done a good job of it.”

  I take his compliment at face value. Adam isn’t the type to hand out “I just want to get into your pants” praise. But I have to tell the truth. “Not as good as I could have.” My finger traces the window. “If I’d listened to my dad, I would have gone to college, gotten a career…”

  “There’s still time for that.”

  My hands drop to my lap. This isn’t about time; it’s about what’s coming. I know I’ll never have the chance to settle down, to make a life for myself, not as long as Mark is looking over my shoulder. I left him, but there’s no doubt in my mind he’s still back there. Waiting. Lurking. He’s coming after me, and he likes that I don’t know when. I know him. My fear is what he lives for.

  Chapter Six

  Three hours later, we finally leave the hospital.

  Mark’s brand had caused quite a stir with every nurse on the floor coming in to the exam room to sneak a peek. Though I’d gotten a nice enough doctor, he’d began prodding for answers the moment he’d seen my leg. Adam finally showed his badge and assured him the situation was handled.

  I’m sure they have to report incidences of abuse to local authorities. Adam’s presence had made that a little more tenable. I don’t know if the staff there are talkers, though. That makes me uneasy. I don’t want my name to end up in a newspaper no matter how small the circulation might be.

  Back in Adam’s truck, I close my eyes as the engine begins its throaty idle. “Do you want me to take you back to Francine’s?” There’s hesitation in his voice, and I turn my head to look at him.

  “Some first date, right?” The cream the nurse slathered on my leg is pouring copious amounts of fire onto the wound, but I somehow manage to summon a smile.

  He reaches over and cups my cheek with just one hand, his thumb sliding close to my mouth. “I won’t say I’m sorry for taking you.” His hazel eyes crinkle. “But no, it’s not the ideal first date. Then again, who says we have to call this our first date? We can try again. See if the next one goes a little better. If it does,” he lifts a shoulder in a shrug, “that one gets crowned our first date.”

  I curl my fingers around his. “I’d like that.” Honestly, I’m not sure if tonight isn’t some kind of omen for our future, but I decide to keep that to myself. My mother had always been superstitious, and I think a little of it rubbed off on me. Adam doesn’t strike me as the type to believe in old wives’ tales or worry about ominous signs.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  The deep timbre of his voice strokes me in the darkness, and my face goes hot. We still haven’t left the parking lot of the hospital, and it looks like Adam’s in no hurry to go anywhere. We’re alone in his truck, sequestered in our own little world. I realize how much my hands itch to touch his face. So I clear my throat and answer. “Where else would you take me?”

  “Where you don’t have to be alone.”

  “Francine will be home.” I whisper the words only because I know what he’s intimating. He wants to be with me. God knows how I feel, but there’s a wall standing between us I’m not sure either of us can breach. He wants answers to unasked questions, and whether it’s tonight or later, he’ll ask them. But what will it do to this—whatever it is we have in the works—if I don’t answer?

  “I doubt you’ll let her hold you tonight.” He moves in closer, and my resolve weakens to the consistency of pudding. Calloused fingertips slide down my cheek, chasing a shiver down my spine. “Will you?”

  “No.” Though his face is barely visible in the darkness, I don’t need to see to know his gaze is on me. He hasn’t stopped watching me since we got back into the truck. And though he’s asking, I can’t think of
anything else to say, and he takes my remaining silence as acquiescence. And backs the truck out of the parking lot.

  He’s left a light on at his house, and it bathes the front porch with a soft warmth that encompasses the wooden swing hanging from two chains. It isn’t the house I expected for a bachelor. This one was probably built sometime in the 1930s. Though it’s been restored, it hasn’t lost its charm.

  “It’s beautiful.” I tip my head back to appreciate the view of the wraparound porch. This is a family home. Perfect for children and dogs. My throat is so tight I can’t speak.

  Adam takes my hand and leads me inside. An oval braided rug lays at the opening to the living room which is all wood and leather—a man’s house. As he shows me around, I’m trying to focus on anything but the warmth of his palm in mine, but it quickly becomes too difficult. The deep rumble of his voice and the perfection of being so close to him without a chance for interruption overwhelms me, and I stop walking.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” I nod then shake my head. “No.

  My heart beats so erratically, I have to wonder if he can hear it. It’s part nerves and part anticipation. I know very little about this man other than he’s caring, compassionate, a great kisser, a protector, and…I stop thinking. Those were all the good things I knew. Were there any bad things?

  In the hallway, we turn to face one another. It’s narrow so our bodies are pressed close enough for me to feel his reaction to mine. He braces his hands on either side of me. The slant of the moon through the shades plays across his face as he leans in, his lips so close to mine I quiver.

  The kiss is too gentle to deepen, and disappointment swells within me when he pulls away. He takes my hand again and leads me into master bedroom. It’s as masculine as the living room with lots of dark wood and bold colors. At the edge of the bed, he draws me into his embrace and holds me for several long seconds.

  I breathe in his scent and, eventually, rest my head on his shoulder. This isn’t passion, but strength he’s offering. Rejuvenation. He guides me to the bed, and I sit while he slips my boots off my feet.