“Yes.” My whisper was all scratchy and self-conscious.
“Holy hell. I only saw him from a distance when he was moving in. I thought he was pretty then. . . .” She trailed off suggestively. Her eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “Looks like he’s into you.”
I huffed. “All I need is another beautiful jerk to take advantage of me. No, thank you.”
Of course I was the one feeling like a jerk after what I said to him.
But judging by the effect Darryn had on me, I was pretty sure he was much more dangerous than Hunter ever was.
Hazardous to my health.
Awareness tugged at me, that same feeling from last week, the weight of his presence strong and unyielding. Helpless, I let my attention travel where it was led—where he stood facing me with his back leaned up against the door. A small smile curved his lips, something that almost appeared regretful, something true and soft, and for the first time I thought I saw something real in Darryn Wild. Then he flipped that asshole switch, and a wide, cocky grin blotted out all traces of anything sweet. He shot me this wicked, unruly wink before he backed out of the shop, dipping his head as he hit the sidewalk. I just stared as the door fell closed behind him.
My heart all of a sudden decided to agree with my stomach and indulged in a little flip-flop in rhythm with the patter of quick, uneven beats in my chest. That presence that felt too overbearing, too overwhelming and heavy and intense, was suddenly gone, leaving a void in its place.
Scratch that. The guy was lethal.
Deadly.
I planted my face into my palms, frantic as I shook my head in them.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“Oh, Misha, don’t fool yourself. Hunter has nothing on Darryn Wild.” Hunter dropped from Indy’s mouth like a vulgar word.
I agreed on all accounts.
She giggled, sipped at her coffee, her voice all a tease as she sang, “Someone is crushing hard on the boy next door.”
My chest heated above my heart, splashing crimson all over my skin.
I wasn’t, was I? Not after everything I’d been through. Boys were trouble and I didn’t need any more of that.
I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, worried it as my eyes slanted to the huge plate-glass windows that looked out toward the campus, unable to stop myself from wondering where he’d gone and what would have happened had I taken him up on his offer to hang out with him. I still had no idea how to make sense of him, or what part of him was genuine, if any was at all.
Indy snorted, cutting into my thoughts. “You should see your face right now. Whatever questions are running through that pretty little head of yours”—she leaned over the small, round table, lifted her finger, and circled it around my face—“you’ve got your answer right here, and I’m pretty sure it’s a resounding yes.”
chapter five
Misha
I yanked at the pull-cord of the lawn mower. It sputtered but didn’t turn over. I dug my foot into the ground for leverage, giving it a good pull, a little grunt included. Another sputter.
Grrr . . .
I looked up to the blue sky, praying for some miracle that would bring this piece of junk to life. I sucked in a breath, gripped the handle in my hand, and gave it my all.
Nope.
Nothing.
I kicked the mower with the side of my sneaker. “You dumb piece of junk . . . would you give me a break and work? Come on, please.” My voice lowered to a whispered plea on the last, like I could cajole something inanimate into cooperating. I jerked it, the engine spinning, then chugging as it ran out of steam.
“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath, throwing my hands in the air as I stalked around the overgrown lawn, wondering how in the heck I’d manage to get this impossible chore done using a thirty-year-old machine. I’d take scrubbing toilets over this any day, because me and motors just didn’t seem to mix.
Behind me, the wooden fence that rose around our tiny backyard rattled. Startled, I froze as I felt more than saw the shadow of movement pass behind me.
I tore myself from the shock and twisted to look over my shoulder, gasping when I saw Darryn drop into our yard, landing on his feet, crouched down, one hand propping himself on the ground for balance, like he was humbled in the deepest bow. Slowly he lifted his head as he straightened, looked up at me with those hazel eyes, hard and intense and brimming with concern.
A rush of dizziness swirled through my overheated head, and I figured I was seconds from fainting.
Yep.
Just like I’d thought.
Avenging angel.
I gaped at his glory. Again, the boy-man-god lacked a shirt, his golden chest much too proud to be inhibited by something so ignoble as fabric. His jeans rode low, the cut of his abs so delicious I had the overwhelming urge to taste them. My mouth watered, and I was imagining tracing my tongue over the rock-hard grooves and planes.
“What are you doing?” His voice cut into my daydream, the throaty question filled with disbelief.
My head snapped up. Mortification climbed to my face when I realized I’d been staring. I blinked away the stupor, having no clue what he was talking about until I followed the trail of his attention to the beaten-down pile of junk sitting in the middle of the lawn.
Slowly I untwisted myself from the pretzel I was in, turning to face him, shifting on my feet as I watched him approach the lawn mower as if it were an injured animal.
“Um . . . trying to mow?” I said, the words almost a question as they flowed out with a tilt of my head. I squinted, trying to understand where the overt distress he was wearing like a cloak was coming from.
He settled his long body down to kneel on a single knee next to the mower, studying the motor as if it were alive, and his mouth moved as if he were having some kind of secret conversation with the hunk of metal.
He looked over his shoulder at me, sparkling hazel eyes narrowing in skepticism. “And kicking the crap out of the poor thing is going to help how?”
“Um . . . ,” I stammered again, frowning at how Darryn seemed to be bleeding sympathy for the old equipment that had become the bane of our house. Each of the four of us roommates would gladly pay good money to get out of the weekly mowing job we rotated around on the cleaning schedule, but the problem was that none of us was willing to take money to do it an extra time. “This isn’t my favorite job.”
The sight of the old mower sitting slumped in the middle of the lawn, buried in the too-long blades of grass, seemed proof enough.
He turned back to the mower. Craning his head, he poked around, muttering under his breath, “And what in God’s name are you doing out here trying to mow?” He unscrewed the gas cap, shook it around, looking for the source.
I wrung my hands together. “It’s my chore this week,” I explained, feeling the little flush of a grin come to my mouth with the idea of Darryn in my backyard, all that confusion from last week when I’d seen him in the coffee shop barely registering with the relief at him flying in unannounced and without summons to my rescue. I chewed at my lip, and for a second I decided to give up the war I seemed to fight every time Darryn came into my view, and mumbled quietly, “Thank you for coming to help me.”
“Ha, I’m not here to save you.” He flashed me this brilliant, teasing smile, the one that twisted me all up in knots and tossed me right into an endless, spiraling swoon.
Oh God.
He inclined his head, still grinning. “I’m here to save this poor machine that you’re trying to kill.”