Chapter 9

Killian Savage

Sunset has cast the clouds into a pale-pink hue across the majority of the sky, but on the horizon, dark rain clouds threaten. The rain just won't quit here, but at least today, this part of Utah has had a small break from it.

With my hands stuffed in my jacket pockets, I stroll up the middle of the street, not bothering with the sidewalk. Dogs and their owners walk the sidewalk, and I've learned the hard way that dogs don't find me . . . approachable.

Dogs are said to be a good judge of character, so they're probably right. It doesn't matter. I had never been interested in owning a pet because I was always working. I could have brought the pet with me to my job, but for what I did . . . Not even a cat needs to witness that.

Tori's house comes into view, and as I get closer, I hear cursing. My brows pinch together until I'm on her driveway. The hood to the Chevelle is popped open, and she's leaning over the engine. I stand at the end for a moment, observing her ass as soft curses filter in my direction.

It's the perfect shape, like a peach, and just like a peach, it begs to be bitten into.

I scrub at the stubble along my jaw and start my way toward her. I can tell she has no idea what she's doing. Hell, I can tell she doesn't know what she's even looking for by the way she uses her phone's flashlight, searching.

She doesn't hear my shoes crunching on the gravel, and when I come to a stop behind her, she doesn't even notice my presence.

"This is just stupid," she grumbles. "Give me a fucking lemon for a car."

I clear my throat, and she nearly jumps out of her skin. She spins around so fast that she teeters for a second. I snatch my hand out and grip her upper arm to keep her from falling over. Her skin is soft under my firm touch, and my eyes zero in on the contact. I hadn't meant to touch her. It was pure instinct, but now that I have . . .

I don't want to let go.

"You scared the shit out of me," she whispers. There's no anger in it, and the soft tone is enough to pull my attention back to her. The expression on her face is inquisitive. Her lips are slightly parted, but when she slowly slides her gaze to the contact, I gently let her go.

She probably didn't appreciate the lingering touch. As I bring my hand back to my side, she raises her eyes back to mine, and I watch as her throat constricts with a heavy swallow.

Or maybe she did appreciate it.

Interesting indeed. Not only is she curious about me, but she's attracted to me. Not many women are, but she doesn't seem like most women, and I can't be the only thing she's endlessly curious about. A restless soul, just like someone I once knew. A touch of obsession that was never satisfied until she had answers. And right now, she's zeroed in on me.

I don't know if I should be defensive about it or let her have her fun.

"Sorry," I murmur.

She pushes her hair up behind her ear and straightens her oversized graphic t-shirt over the hem of her sweatpants. I've never seen her dressed down, but I like the look. It makes her seem less boss-like and more human. Not that I don't like her bossy personality, but seeing her raw and vulnerable like this . . . It does something to me. So much so that I take one small step back, away from where my thoughts are taking me and the very fine object that's bringing them about.

"It's fine," she breathes out.

I look at the engine so that I'm not sweeping her body with my gaze. "Car trouble?"

"Yes," she hisses. "Derek gave me a shit car." Her shoulders sag, and a defeated and tired look relaxes her face. "I should be grateful that he gave me one at all, but nothing seems to be going right for me. Everyone is trying to help, and that should make me happy, but it doesn't, and now all these terrible things are happening to me, and my life is a shit show that you should just ignore because . . . "

I glance at her, and for a moment, our eyes connect. She searches the depths of mine as I do hers. If this were my life before, I'd pull her into my arms to stop the tears that are threatening the corners of her eyes. But this isn't my ‘before.' That still doesn't stop me from appreciating her presence. However, her being in my space… It makes my spine tingle with goosebumps even if she is upset.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, breaking the eye contact. Her head bends forward a little. "I just vomited all my problems onto you."

"Sounds like a lot of problems."

She blows out a breath, and a traitorous tear tumbles down her cheek. She wipes it away angrily. "You have no idea."

The urge to reach out and rub the rest of the wetness away is strong, but instead, I clench my jaw and turn to the car. No matter how much she reminds me of her , I cannot give in because I'm not finished with what I started out to do when I left New York.

And yet, I still ask, "Want to talk about it?" I don't know why I said it. It just came out, like an automatic response.

I see her shake her head. "You shouldn't be burdened with my problems."

I nod a little because I can understand that. I don't tell people about my problems either. "So what's wrong with the car?"

She faces the hood with me. "It's weird when it starts."

"How so?"

Using her hands to gesture wildly, she explains the troubles the car has. It takes half her speech to already know what's wrong, but I let her prattle on because I know she needs it. When she's finished, I close the hood, and she turns a frown in my direction. "What are you doing?"

"You need new spark plugs."

She loosely crosses her arms over her chest, and it takes everything in me not to stare as her tits get pushed up. "Oh," she whispers.

"I can put the order into the hardware store in Mount Pleasant if you pick them up."

A smirk curves her lips. "Are you going to put them in for me too?" I nod curtly, and her expression widens. "I was just kidding. I mean, I can technically make Derek do it. You don't have to –"

I raise my eyebrows. "It's fine. Nothing I haven't done before."

Hair falls onto her cheek as she cocks her head to the side. "Were you a mechanic before you started exploring the world?"

I smile a little at that because exploring the world is putting it mildly. Very mildly. "No."

"Then how do you know how to do the spark plug thingies?"

Lifting my hand, I rub at the back of my neck, uncomfortable that we are getting dangerously close to me sharing things I'd rather not about myself. "I picked up a few things here and there."

"So, if you weren't a mechanic, what were you? And don't do that thing."

"What thing?"

She scowls at me. "That thing where you refuse to share anything with me. It drives me nuts."

I lift one eyebrow and drop my arm back to my side. "I bet it does."

"So?" She waves a hand between us. "What did you do before you started traveling?"

I debate about whether I'm going to tell her or not. Part of me wants to give in, but the other part of me knows that I can't. Instead of giving her the full truth, I say, "I made people tell the truth."

Her scowl deepens, and she takes a step closer to me. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That's all you get to know," I rumble, looking down at her. She's so close that, if I bent at the waist, I could take her mouth like I want to. Like I need to.

She starts poking me in the peck and says, "That's a crap answer, and you know it." She pauses her poking before she resumes and says, "Shit, that's hard as a rock."

I snatch her hand on instinct, and she sucks in a breath at the second contact I've given her tonight. Her eyes zone in on my hand clasped around hers. My grip isn't firm, but it is commanding, and I watch as she slowly blows out her breath. She blinks, and when she reopens her eyes, I see heat there.

She raises that heat to my own gaze. Her lips part, and her tongue slides out to gently wet them. It's almost as if she's imagining tasting me, and at that very thought, my cock stiffens slightly.

My voice is deep and husky when I say, "I can't give you the answers you're looking for, but if you want something other than answers, you know where to find me." Because I know for a fact it just crossed her mind.

And then I lower her hand to her side and take a step back. It's probably the hardest thing I've done in a long time, stepping away and walking away, but somehow, I manage it. She doesn't say anything at my back as I stride toward the B&B, and a part of me wishes like hell that she would just to have an excuse to bury myself inside her.

But as soon as my hand is on the knob, she calls, "Killian?" It's the clear, boss-like tone again, the vulnerable woman long gone.

I turn to face her, and she doesn't fidget under my gaze even though I know she's still thinking about my offer.

Instead, she asks, "Will you go somewhere with me?"