Cora Carmack - Seeking Her

She took a few steps, her hips swinging and smiled. “You got a better offer?”

Did I?

One part of me screamed, “Hell, yes,” while the other was busy urging me to pull away. I leaned toward her, but my fists stayed clenched on the bar top behind me, locking me in place.

Starting something with her would end badly no matter how I planned to proceed. I couldn’t follow her anymore for fear of being recognized. And I couldn’t travel with her because not a single guy she’d met so far had made it to day two with her.

So, no. I had nothing I could (or should) offer to her.

I slumped back against the bar, silent.

She followed my retreat, stepping up toward me and laying a hand on my chest. My muscles flexed involuntarily, and I had a very hard time remembering the argument I’d laid out only seconds ago in my head.

What if I could manage a second day with her? And a third? Maybe even more?

While I was struggling to maintain my control, she pulled the cup of water between us, wrapping her full lips around the straw. She took a long drink, and my blood migrated south.

I cleared my throat, not to say anything but because I needed something to do to keep from dragging her lips to mine.

She said, “Let me know if you change your mind.”

I was changing my mind every 2.3 seconds.

And while I struggled with my thoughts, she sashayed back to the dance floor, back to the Hungarian guys I could have stolen her away from.

I WATCHED KELSEY dance with another local guy from the group she’d come with, and she was a force to be reckoned with. I didn’t know how anybody said no to her. She closed her eyes as she danced, and she was magnetic as always—­drawing more than just my stare.

I turned, tearing my eyes away, and realized where I’d been left. Alone. The bartender came up, mixing a drink, but looking at me in question.

I opened my mouth.

I thought about ordering a beer. Would a beer really be so harmless? As long as I stayed away from the strong stuff . . .

No.

Goddamn it. No.

I shook my head at the bartender. “I’m good. Thanks.”

And then I shot out of there, needing to put as much distance as possible between me and the bar.

I chose a spot in the first room, where I entered the building. It was a little more low key, and I figured I could just station myself there for the rest of the night. I was close to the exit if I needed some air, but it was also a prime spot to wait for Kelsey.

With distance from the bar and from her, I was able to think a little bit more clearly. Though that didn’t make what I should do any more evident.

I hadn’t left myself with many choices.

I was still thinking about them when Kelsey came barreling by a few minutes later. Bracing a hand on the wall as she walked, she looked upset, so I followed. Ahead of me, she stumbled out onto the street, sucking in air like she’d just run a marathon. Then she doubled over and was sick on the street.

Fantastic.

That was one way to help me stay away from her.

Except . . . damn it.

I stepped up and pulled the hair back from her face. It was the least I could do. When she looked back at me, though, she gave me a look that said I was the last person she wanted to see.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine.”

She pushed away from me, her hair slipping through my fingers as she tottered out into the street.

“Where are you going?”

She didn’t look back at me as she answered, “Away. Just away.”

She walked down the middle of the street, her hands out at her sides like she was prepared to catch herself if she fell. Follow at a distance? Or stick with her?

Like there was really a choice there.

“Hold on,” I said, jogging to catch up.

As I overtook her, coming to a stop in front of her, she perched her hands on her hips. “Seriously?”

I pulled my lips into a thin line, understanding her incredulity. I couldn’t believe I was doing this myself, but something about the image of her walking away from me had snapped something inside. I’d had enough of watching her from a distance.

“I’m not letting you walk around by yourself.”

Never mind that I couldn’t.

She crossed her arms over her chest, and her surprise melted into agitation.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

I didn’t believe her. Hadn’t for a while now.

“Bad things happen every day to ­people who are fine.”

And didn’t I know it. You don’t go into the military expecting to escape unscathed. Hell, a part of me had always thought I’d be one of the ones to never come home. The reality had been much worse.

“Listen, I get the whole protective thing,” she said. “It’s what guys like you do. And don’t get me wrong, it’s kinda hot.” That should not have made my blood rush faster. “But I don’t need a babysitter.” I barely contained my laugh. “So put the knight-­in-­shining-­armor fantasies on hold for the night.”

I channeled my laugh into a roll of my eyes. I was no knight. And between the two of us, she was the one covered in armor.

“And I already told you that I don’t care what you think you need.”

I was paid to ignore that.

“So, what? You’re going to follow me whether I want you to or not?”

I smirked, because the universe definitely had a sense of humor. It was a dark one, sending me of all ­people to look after a girl like her, but it was a sense of humor all the same.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Someone needs to get you home.”

She scoffed and skirted around me. “I’m not going home yet. So run along and find yourself another damsel.”

I took a frustrated breath and hid it behind a smile. She reminded me so much of myself, it was like looking in a mirror. A mirror I wanted to shatter. She walked away, and I called out after her. “You’re a real piece of work.”

I’d thought the same thing about myself on a daily basis once upon a time, until I’d had enough to drink to stop caring.

She spun around, walking backward, with a giant smile. She stretched out her arms displaying how much she didn’t actually give a fuck and said, “You bet I am.”

It would have made a great exit if she didn’t stumble on her next step. I darted forward, but she caught herself on her own. Without sparing a look at me, she continued forward, walking a little faster.

Knowing it would drive her mad, I caught up and fell into step next to her. She glared at me and tried to walk faster, but my legs were longer than hers. For a moment, I thought she might run just to leave me behind. Instead, she asked, “What’s your name?”

Not what I expected.

“You waited long enough to ask that.”

In fact, I was damned surprised I hadn’t given myself away already and called her by name.

She shrugged. “Names aren’t exactly the important bit in places like this.” She waved a hand back in the direction of the bar we’d left. “And, honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

“So, then, why ask? If names aren’t important and you don’t care?”

“Well, first, we’re no longer in said bar. And second, you’re following me, and I’m asking questions to fill the silence, because otherwise things will get awkward. And talking keeps me from thinking about how you’re probably a serial killer, hence the whole following thing.”

Well, at least she wasn’t completely oblivious to her safety. Though, if I did mean to harm her, asking my name wasn’t going to stop me.

“From a knight in shining armor to a serial killer.”

She bounced one shoulder in a shrug. “The nice-­guy bit could be an act. And you definitely look like you could be dangerous.”

I was. And not just because of my training. Kelsey might be wild, but the old me still could have put her to shame. And if I fell off the wagon, I could easily drag her down that road with me.

“Are you always this honest?” I asked.

“Not even close. It’s the alcohol talking. Totally powers down my filter.”

Good to know.

“I’ll tell you my name if you’ll tell me something about yourself.”

I had only facts on a paper and observations that I tried incredibly hard to keep from morphing into the worst assumptions.

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter. Something else honest.”

She paused for a few moments, her steps faltering. She veered sideways, her shoulder brushing my arm. I held out a hand ready to catch her if she fell, but didn’t touch her yet.

“Honestly? . . . I’m tired.”

I laughed. I asked for honesty, and I guess I got it.

“That’s because it’s almost dawn.”

“Not that kind of tired.”

“What kind of tired, then?”

“The bone-­deep kind. The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix. Just tired of . . . being.”

For a few moments, I was shocked into silence. I’d known there was something more going on in her head. I’d wanted to crack open her facade and find the truth beneath it. But I didn’t feel any better having my suspicions confirmed. In fact, I felt infinitely worse, sickened by the worn look on her face and frustrated by my inability to fix it.

“You don’t show it.” Not to most ­people anyway, but I was the one person who saw when no one else was looking.

“I don’t show much of anything.”

Damn. For all my desire to unravel her secrets and excavate her issues, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know now. I already felt too much for someone who was supposed to be my unbiased mission, and knowing what hurt her would only dig me deeper.