Emma Kerry froze in her tracks, then turned to face the man who’d protected her. “How can you help with my locks?” she asked, her pulse pounding against the front of her skull. Given how this man had just helped her, part of her felt ashamed for feeling any wariness, but there was something about him that sent a chill down her spine.
He nailed her with a stare, his eyes startlingly pale blue, something that stood out when everything else about him was so dark. Black knit cap, black hoodie, black jeans, small black gauges in his ears, denim-and-black-leather cut-off jacket from that motorcycle club she sometimes saw around town. Patches on that jacket read:
Caine
Sgt. At Arms
Was Caine his first or last name? Or a nickname? She didn’t know. But what she did know was that he was tall and possessed an edgy intensity that made her feel anxious. Or maybe that was just her projecting how on edge she felt after getting jumped.
“I know how to pick them,” he said. “So I can let you into your house.”
Hugging Chewy in tighter against her chest, Emma took an unconscious step backward. “Oh, uh, right.” She gave a nervous laugh that sounded close to hysterical in her own ears. “Well, thanks, but I’ll call a professional.”
He shrugged. “Saturday night. They’re gonna take hours.”
Emma’s instincts didn’t know how to read this guy, because he made her feel both vulnerable and safe, like he was some kind of magnet that messed up her internal compass. It was probably this damn headache. “It’s okay.”
His brow slashed downward and he took a step closer. “Why won’t you let me help?”
Her heart threatened to take flight, and she fell back another step as words rushed from her mouth. “Um. Because I don’t know you. And you have a knife. And I just got mugged and now you’re talking about breaking into my house?”
The man froze and held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Whoa. If I was going to hurt you, I could’ve done it by now.”
Emma gasped, the truth of those words needling in even though... “That is not at all reassuring.”
He winced, and it made him momentarily appear a little vulnerable himself. “I suck at reassuring.”
“No kidding.” Her stomach went on a loop-the-loop, because something about this man made her feel like she was standing on shaky ground.
Hands still raised, he took another step back. “I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
She shook her head, and the gesture made her feel a little nauseous. “You didn’t. But I’m okay now. So, thank you.” With that, she turned and rushed away. She would’ve sworn he watched her until she disappeared around the corner, and then she moved even faster just in case he followed. Thank God her place was only six houses down.
Except, of course, that she couldn’t get in. Still, the golden glow of her front porch light and the colored lights on her Christmas tree that twinkled from her front window restored some of her sense of security. “Here you go, baby,” she said, sitting on her stoop and settling her Shih Tzu in her lap. “I’m gonna get us in.”
Her phone was her one saving grace of the whole night, and she used it to look up emergency lock-out services…only to find that the Caine guy was right. They gave her an estimate of ninety minutes. Which would put them here after midnight. Awesome.
Emma dropped her head into her hand. “If I throw up, I promise not to do it on you, Chewy.”
The little guy spun in her lap, seemingly knowing she needed his comfort judging by how he nuzzled her face. She laughed at his antics despite herself.
She tugged the collar of her coat up around her neck and pulled her free hand inside her sleeves. With the other, she opened her e-reader app on her phone and found a new book to start. There was nothing to be done but wait. And the light of the app made her feel less alone.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the rev of a motorcycle engine tore into the quiet somewhere down the block, and both she and Chewy startled. The dog growled and ruffed out little half barks that expressed concern but not outright alarm. But then the motorcycle came toward them and its rumbling engine echoed louder off the buildings, sending Chewy into full-on protective mode.
Especially when the bike pulled to the empty curb in front of the house next to hers.
Caine. His boots braced against the ground as the sleek all-black Harley came to a stop.
Emma stared. Once again, her brain seemed to be caught in an internal war between fear and fascination, panic and relief. Definitely relief, if she wanted to be honest with herself.
The engine went dead, and silence rang loud in its wake.
“How long?” he called out.
She hesitated only a moment before realizing what he meant. “Til the locksmith?” Her phone said fifteen minutes had passed since she’d called. “About seventy-five minutes.”
“Okay.” Parked at the edge of the illumination cast by her lights, Emma could just make out Caine’s movements. He crossed his arms and his head fell forward.
“Um, Caine?” she said, testing out that name.
“Yeah?”
She leaned forward to try to see him better. “What are you doing?”
A sigh that sounded like pure frustration. “Waiting.”
“For?”
“You to be safe.”
Those four words. Those four words added a serious dose of fascination to the relief his presence brought. Because why would he go to this trouble for her when he’d already helped her and she’d kinda brushed him off? Who did that?
But if she’d been blown away by his presence and his determination to watch out for her and those words, it was nothing compared to what happened next. About ten minutes later, Emma became aware of the distant sound of another motorcycle, but didn’t think about it until it got closer—and then turned onto her street.
Somehow she knew it was going to stop near Caine, and then it did just that.
Emma felt like she was watching a movie and had absolutely no idea what was going to happen next. New biker guy handed Caine something, looked her way, and seemed to hold a conversation she couldn’t quite hear over his motor. Then, as quickly as he came, he left again. Until the street was once more quiet and his engine noise became a distant whine.
Caine got off his bike, and Emma’s pulse kicked up in her veins. She had no idea what was coming at her. And then he was in front of her, standing within the circle of light so that she could see him clearly. Her breath caught as those eyes landed on her. Ice-blue heat in a harsh face. Harsh all except for—
“Here,” he said, holding something out to her.
—the soft fullness of his lips. Emma had to drag her gaze away to see what was in his hand. A plastic grocery bag swung heavy in his grip.
“What is it?” she asked.
One thick, dark brow arched upward toward the knit cap.
Chewy sniffed and danced in her lap, his tail wagging. Guess he’d made his vote on Caine clear.
Unleashing a shaky breath, she took the bag.
The moment she did, Caine stepped back into the shadows and returned to his bike. Only then did she peer into the bag.
Her heart was a sudden bass beat in her chest. She pulled out a bottle of water. A bottle of Coke. And bottles of Excedrin, Aleve, and aspirin. Chewy sniffed each item as she pulled it out.
Emma could only stare at the small pharmacy she lined up on the stoop next to her. He’d…called someone to get her medicine? And they’d actually gone and bought it and then drove it to him—for her?
Who. Did. That?
“Is it…the right stuff?” he asked quietly, his voice coming to her from the darkness.
Seriously. No one did that. Who was this guy?
“I can’t believe you did this,” she said.
“Fuck. It’s not the right stuff?”
She shook away the disbelief. “No, no. It is. Thank you. I’m just…stunned.”
And totally not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not when this night had unleashed a marching band in her head—and that had been true before getting mugged, getting saved by a biker, and then…getting saved by him again?
She uncapped the Excedrin and the Aleve, fought through the foil seals and stuffed cotton balls, and greedily swallowed down two pills of each medicine with a long gulp of the Coke.
“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can,” she said, grateful beyond words. It’d been a long time since anyone had looked out for her like this. Not since the grandmother who’d raised her died three years ago.
He didn’t respond, and she had the strangest feeling that she’d said the wrong thing.
Emma debated. Resisted. Debated again. Then sat Chewy on her stoop and pointed at him with a “Stay.” Her stomach flipped as she stepped down to the sidewalk. But there was still that relief and even more of that fascination, and so she approached his bike like he was a lion who was maybe wild and would eat her alive but maybe, just maybe, tame and would let her pet him. Which was a totally weird way to think of a man, but whatever, it seemed right here. For this man.
Even though she couldn’t make out his face in the shadows, she felt his eyes on her almost immediately. Emma fisted her hands at her sides and forced her feet to keep moving until she reached the edge of the sidewalk just a few feet from his bike. From him.
“Thank you,” she said.
He palmed the cap on his head. “You said that already.”
His gruffness might’ve hurt her feelings if she hadn’t gotten the feeling that her gratitude made him uncomfortable. “Well, all of this is worth saying it more than once.”
He breathed out heavily from his nose, a sound of exhaustion…or exasperation. Emma didn’t know.
She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “You don’t have to stay, you know. I’ll be okay. Especially after the medicine.”
He crossed his arms. “I’m staying.”
“Why?”
“You want me to go?”
“No,” she rushed out, stepping down off the curb. Closer to him. Close enough that she caught the flash of his eyes in the dimness. “No, I don’t. I just don’t know why you’re going to such lengths to help me. That’s all. Curiosity.”
“Curiosity killed the…”
“…the cat. Yeah, yeah, I walked into that one, didn’t I?” She chuckled. “Seriously, though.”
“I let him get away.”
“What?”
Now his sigh was more like a growl. “The asshole who jumped you. I let him get away.”
Wait. He felt guilty? “You didn’t let him—”
“I did. And now he has your keys and your address. And you’re stuck outside in the freezing cold at midnight.”
A chill raced down Emma’s spine. Because in the midst of everything else, she hadn’t put those two facts together in quite that way. For just a moment, her headache fought back against the pain meds. “Do you think he’ll come back?”
“Fuck,” he bit out. “I didn’t mean to…probably not, okay? Guy was probably just a junkie hoping for some cash for his next fix.”
Emma wasn’t sure that made her feel much better. Because her purse was still going to be floating around out there…somewhere. And not just with her keys and license, but with all her credit cards, too. Canceling those was one more thing she needed to do once she was done with the locksmith. “You’re probably right,” she managed. And then, with more conviction, “None of which is your fault, obviously.”
“Look, lady—”
“Emma.”
“What?”
“My name is Emma. And I’m totally not old enough for you to call me lady.”
He huffed, and she could almost hear him roll his eyes.
She found herself biting back a smile. “You sigh a lot.”
“You talk a lot.”
That made her laugh. “I know. Hazard of my job, I guess.”
He shifted on his bike, and his boot scuffed the pavement. “Which is?”
She almost missed the question, but her belly gave a weird little flip that he’d asked. He didn’t seem like a jobs-and-weather small-talk kinda guy. “I teach kindergarten. When you spend your days with twenty-three five- and six-year-olds, you’re bound to be talkative.”
He grimaced and scrubbed a hand over his face.
Now she was the one sighing. Because she felt like she’d said something wrong again.
Which made her want to do something that might help him. And, in a weird way, allowing him to help her actually would help him, too. Because then he wouldn’t have to sit here anymore either. In the freezing cold at midnight.
So she swallowed down the little ball of nerves suddenly in her throat and asked, “Still want to pick my lock?”
His head jerked toward her and then he was off the bike and standing right in front of her.
And wow if all that intensity wasn’t overwhelming up close. Overwhelming and strangely breathtaking. “Is that a yes?” she whispered.
“Hell, yes.”