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That makes me look up again. Now he looks concerned. He probably never saw a flush so dark before. “Yeah.” Funny he’s asking me that, though, because... “Are you okay?”
His brows draw together. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You were coughing and then...” I grimace. And then what, you stopped stalking me? “I just wanted to check on you,” I finish lamely.
His blue eyes widen.
This was a bad idea. Scratch that, it was a terrible idea. I’m suddenly aware that the guy behind the desk is still observing us, curiosity lighting up his dark eyes.
“I should go,” I say. “I mean, I see you’re fine, so now I know. I’m glad you’re well. Really glad.” I tighten my grip on my walking stick. Stop blabbing, Ev. “It was good seeing you.” And I mean it.
“Wait.” He takes a step toward me, reaching out. “You came to check on me?”
“Yes.” Is that so weird?
He’s still staring at me as if I’m from another planet. Colors shift in his eyes, shades of blue, from the hue of a cloudless sky to the turquoise of the lakes and the dark blue of the ocean. Emotions—shock, doubt, anger, then a tiny flare of hope.
It’s as if he doesn’t trust my words. As if he doesn’t think I’d care enough to check on him, and the thought makes my heart ache.
Micah touches my cheek, his fingertips trailing on my jaw. A faint smile curves his lips. “Come with me.” He takes my hand and tugs me toward the exit.
The guy behind the desk whistles, and there are a few more catcalls from the booths. A fresh wave of heat goes through me—but it’s mostly from the feel of his strong hand around mine, the heat of his skin piercing me like a flash of lightning.
As we leave the carpeted area of the shop, my stick taps on the floor, and Micah turns to look at it.
His smile fades and he stops. “What the hell happened?”
I shrug. “Twisted my knee a little. It’s still not entirely healed from the accident, so...”
“My fault,” he whispers. “You ran to get away from me, and then this happened.”
“No.” God, no. “Not your fault.”
His jaw works. “We can talk another time. This—”
“Have coffee with me?” I didn’t plan this, and have no idea what makes me so bold—but I don’t want to leave, not yet. His closeness is like the summer sun, warming me.
He hesitates, his hand still around mine, strong but gentle. A strong emotion darkens his sky-blue gaze, but it’s one I can’t name. “But can you walk? Can you—
“I’ve been on my feet all day. The stick is just to help my knee heal faster.” Christ, Blake was right. Who will want a cripple like me?
His jaw clenches. “You’re not a cripple. Who’s Blake?”
Oh God, did I say that out loud? Crap. I did. “Nobody.” I want to clap a hand over my mouth, to keep any more words from spilling out, but Micah has my fingers gripped tightly in his and doesn’t let go when I try to pull away.
“Come.” He tugs on my hand again, and I follow him outside, not even looking up.
My stomach is like a stone. Only I could screw up like that with the hottest guy I’ve ever met up close.
And it shouldn’t matter. I didn’t know why he was watching me before, but now I think I have a good idea. That fleeting emotion in his eyes I couldn’t identify before?
I’m pretty sure it’s pity.
Chapter Five
Micah
Fury heats my chest and clogs my throat as I draw her out of Damage Control and onto the street. A cripple? Who’s this asshole who thinks he can tell her such a thing? As if it should matter to anyone that she limps. Besides, she’ll heal.
