“I know.”

Steeling myself, I leaned forward and stuffed the bills into the front pocket of his hoodie.

Such a bad move.

Inside was warm with the faint grit of crumbs and life-dirt but against the soft material was a hard stomach, breathing fast.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice was a spur, kicking my heart into a frenzy.

I yanked my hand from his pocket, leaving the cash inside. “I want you to have the money. In return for a favor.”

His face tightened. “I’ve already done you a favor, remember?”

“I remember.” I glanced at his bloody knuckles where a few had swollen and bruised with injury. “Would you let me look at your hands or at least buy you some Tylenol?”

“No.”

Okay...

“In that case, all I ask in exchange for the money is you to escort me home.”

Home?

What the hell are you doing?

I couldn’t afford to let this vagabond know where I lived. Dad would be mortified. Our furniture and belongings would probably be stolen once he figured out our daily schedule and knew when the house was vacant.

You’re an awful person.

How could I think such things after he’d saved me?

Trust.

I had to trust him, despite outward appearances and circumstances.

Believe.

I had to believe in my gut when it said he wasn’t to be feared.

I wanted him to have the money over a grouchy cab driver. All he had to do was walk me back.

“You want me to take you home?” His mouth parted. His face remained in shadow, visible but still a mystery. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to know where you live?”

“If you were going to hurt me, you would’ve done it by now.” I opened my arm to incorporate the alley. “We’re alone. You already know I’m terrible at escape. Yet you’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

He barked a laugh. “Gentleman? Right.” He scrubbed his face, highlighting the dirt on his neck as he looked at the sky. “How do you know I’m not just delaying my attack to put you at ease and make you pliable?”

“Pliable? Who uses the word pliable to discuss hurting women?”

He smirked, lips smiling, eyes not. “Me.”

“And who is me?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

I put my hands on my hips. “You know my name. What’s yours?”

He stumbled back. “You—you want to know my name?”

Was that a bad thing? Had he done something terrible and didn’t want anyone to know? “Isn’t it normal for strangers to share with another? That’s how they stop being strangers.”

He coughed, rubbing his nape. “Not where I’m from.”

“Where are you from?”

His shock faded, smothered once again with a cocky attitude. His shoulders came up, proud and standoffish. “You’re nosy.”

I bristled. “Only making conversation.”

“Well, don’t. Let’s just go, shall we?” He looked around the alley. “I hate places like this.”

I wanted to ask what sort of places were those, but I didn’t dare. Instead, I focused on how I could get home. “Will you walk with me?”

“You think I’ll protect you?”

Well, yes.

“You did before.”

“That was because I don’t agree with rape and robbery. Not because I have a hero complex. The minute you’re out of this alley, you cease to be my concern.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know why that hurt as much as it did. Straightening my back, I sucked up my fear, preparing to strike out on my own—like I always did. “Okay, then. Well...how much do taxis cost to get to Upper East Side?”

One eyebrow raised. “You live on the Upper East Side and have no idea how much taxis are?” He peered harder. “You don’t just work in an office for minimum wage, do you?”

I didn’t know why, but I wanted to maintain my identity as a low-income earner. I didn’t want to come across as bragging, or worse, rubbing his nose in it. The longer we talked, the more I saw what his clothes hinted at.

He either lived rough or didn’t have a home. He wasn’t like the homeless man I gave my dinner to—this man didn’t smell, and his clothes were cleanish (minus a few stains) even if they were a little holey. But he had that scrapper look about him—a glare in his eyes, speaking of mistrust and hardship.

“Let’s agree to keep personal information secret, okay?” I asked. “You don’t want to tell me your name. I don’t want to tell you anything more.” I held up my hand. “Agree to take me home, and we won’t ask questions. Deal?”

It took a little while, but he finally slipped his hand into mine and shook.

It took everything I had not to react to the desire crackling from his palm.

He smiled. “Deal.”

Chapter Eight

NEW YORK WAS an exciting city to explore on my own.

But exploring it with another person—someone intensely attractive and utterly unpredictable—was one of the most incredible things I’d ever done.

Ten minutes had passed since leaving the alley and in ten minutes, my pulse had skyrocketed then equalized to a steady thrum of awareness.

Walking beside him shouldn’t be such an adventure. He was just a man. This was just a city. But every footfall felt different. Every breath and glance and heartbeat.