Page 6 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Very slowly.

I turned.

“Need a hand?”

Oh. That was inconvenient. Very inconvenient.

Well. That’s…

That’s not fair.

Nobody should look like that under a streetlight. Streetlights are supposed to make everyone look tired. He somehow looked like he’d been professionally lit by heaven itself. Rude.

Gerald sighed.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m literally just standing here.”

Frank leaned forward.

“Your eye is twitching.”

He stood beneath the flickering streetlight; one hand tucked into his coat pocket. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair that looked like he’d forgotten it existed. The kind of face romance authors describe for three pages. Unfortunately for him… He landed in the wrong web. Oh well that’s too bad. He nodded toward the trunk.

“That sounded heavy.”

There it was again. His voice.

Smooth, deep, and rich enough to make my brain forget every coherent thought I’d ever had. Not honey no honey was too sweet. This was whiskey. The expensive kind that sat in crystal glasses and burned just enough to remind you it was there. A voice that settled low in your chest, warm and dangerous, the kind that made perfectly sensible women do remarkably stupid things.

Whoever handed that man a face like that and a voice like this clearly enjoyed watching women lose all common sense. I wasn’t saying I’d lost mine, but it had definitely wandered off for a minute.

“It was.”

“What is it?”

I smiled.

“Books.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Books?”

“I’m very committed to literacy.”

For a second… I thought he might smile. He didn’t.

I walked closer smiling, probably looking like a psychopath.

“I don’t think we’ve met.”

“No.”