Chapter Three
Now
Eighteen.
Nineteen.
Twenty.
Twenty-one.
“Looking for me?” a deep, masculine voice questions as I reach the bottom of the stairway that leads to the subway platform.
The voice, although I’ve never heard it before, is familiar. Like the voice of a childhood friend you are reunited with years later. It comforts me.
I lift my head and I meet the same melted chocolate eyes from this morning only a couple of feet in front of me. With me standing on the last step and him standing on the ground, we’re nearly the same height. People hustle past us and ignore our unusual exchange as we silently stare at one another. I, however, cannot ignore the pull that this man has on me. My body leans forward in a slight way as I discreetly inhale his scent.
“Sniffing is going to cost you,” he smirks.
Smirking is definitely a good look on him and apparently I wasn’t as discreet as I had originally thought.
“Is that so, Crow?” I question with a raised brow. Leaning my shoulder against the wall beside me, I challenge him with a foreign smile tugging at my lips.
His eyes briefly drop to them before he flashes me a grin. “Crow?”
As he says the word, I watch his full lips while they move. They’re soft in appearance and mixed with the cinnamon fragrance coming from them, I have the insane urge to kiss them.
“You’re a woman of few words. What’s your name, chatty?”
I scoff at his statement but can’t help but reward him with a smile when a dimple forms on his left cheek. I’m just now noticing that his cheek is dusted with a scruff that hasn’t been shaved in a day or two. His dimple draws me in—hooks me with its innocent charm.
“Maybe I don’t talk to strangers,” I retort.
He leans toward me, and I feel like I should move away from this man that I haven’t even learned his name yet. But I don’t. In fact, I stay planted right where I’m at and non-verbally invite him into my personal space.
“I’m not a stranger,” he says simply. As if his words mean something—that I should trust him.
Strangely, I do.
“Natalie.”
He lifts his gloved hand between us and after a brief hesitation, I give in and shake it with my own gloved hand.
“I’m Crow,” he chuckles, “Nice to meet you.”
“What’s your real name, smartass?” I groan in faux exasperation.
Our hands remain joined, neither of us willing to let go of the other. His cheeks turn the slightest of pink as he darts his eyes to someone passing by us.
“Let’s just say I prefer the nickname you’ve given me over my real name. Henry isn’t exactly a badass name. Now, Crow, a name like Crow insinuates that I’m one cool-ass motherfucker,” he muses.
Henry.
“Are you from Texas or something?” I laugh.
He shakes his head ruefully at me. “Jersey. Do I look like a country boy to you?”
I release his hand and lean back to inspect his body. He’s tall with broad shoulders—maybe a previous football player in college. His black leather jacket hugs his thick arms and it’s open in the front, revealing a tan waffle-textured thermal shirt. The shirt stretches nicely across his chest and I have to tear my gaze from it.
“Those look like arms that have tossed more than their fair share of bales of hay,” I tease.
I watch his lips twitch in amusement and I wonder why it is that I’m so enamored by this man. This Henry—the man who claims he’s not at all a country boy.
“Do you always pick on strangers?”
I roll my eyes at him. “You’re not a stranger. Not anymore, Henry.”
“Crow,” he murmurs, seemingly attached already to his new nickname.
“I’m going to miss my train,” I tell him finally.
Truth is, I’m in no hurry to get home but the subways aren’t a safe place for a young woman at night. I’d rather spend my evening having playful banter with this good-looking Henry than rushing home to nuke up a TV dinner and watch endless reruns of Friends.
“I’ll ride with you,” he states firmly.
When my eyes meet his, I see that his good-naturedness is gone and he’s quite serious. It warms me that after a few minutes of speaking, this man already feels protective over me. He steps back and with a flourish of his hand, leads the way toward the platform.
Together, we walk side by side until we reach the landing. The train hasn’t arrived yet but will be here soon. Everyone stands around looking at their phones or lost in their heads. I’m glad, for once, I have someone to stand with.
“Do you live around here?” I ask.
I turn to see him staring at the tracks thoughtfully. Finally, he breaks his trance and peeks over at me under his thick eyelashes. He’s shy and confident all at once—an unusual combination that most definitely intrigues me.
“You could say that. I guess you work around here?”
I frown, and his eyes narrow. “Yeah but hopefully not for long.”
The sound of the train clattering along the tracks toward us steals our attention away. When it comes screeching to a halt and the doors open, I sneak another glance at Henry. His face is pensive as he watches me. Under normal circumstances, I might feel uncomfortable as someone attempts to visually peel away my layers.
But not with him.
Not with Henry.
Instead, I smile at him and clutch on to his elbow. “After you, Crow.”