It was Rider. He was really here.
Still clutching the phone and having no idea how this was happening, I swallowed hard as I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Rider turned at the waist, and I ended up eye level with his chest. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to answer.”
My gaze flicked up, and a strangled sound escaped me. I reached out, gripping his arm and all but dragged him inside. He caught the door with his other hand, closing it behind us.
“Your face.” My grip tightened on his forearm. “What happened?”
His brows furrowed as he reached up, touching the skin around the inch-long gash above his left eyebrow. Blood had dried around the cut and a bluish-purple shade had already begun to spread out around it. “This? Oh, it’s nothing.”
I stared at him. “It doesn’t...look like nothing.”
“It’s not a big deal.” Looking around the foyer, he peeled my white-knuckled grip off his arm. Instead of dropping my hand, he threaded his fingers through mine. “I thought you’d ask how I figured out which one was your house. I’m pretty impressed with my craftiness.”
Yeah, I was curious about that, but he was going to end up with a matching scar above his left eyebrow now. “Rider, your forehead...”
He glanced down at me as he squeezed my hand, grinning. “You told me you lived in the Pointe, so I took the metro to the Center and walked the rest of the way. Wasn’t too hard to figure out.” With his other hand, he ran the tips of his fingers over the fake daisies in the vase placed on the entry table. “I just looked for your car. Lucky me, it was in the driveway. So maybe I’m not that crafty.”
Crafty or not, he was hurt and that made me feel sick. I started tugging him toward the living room.
“What are you wearing?” he asked, letting me pull him along.
My eyes widened. I’d totally forgotten I was dressed for bed and that the sleepwear showcased my sturdy body. “I was getting...ready for bed.”
He arched his brow and then winced. “What time is it? Seven?”
“Seven-thirty,” I murmured, guiding him out of the hall and into the living room.
Taking in the spacious room, his attention lingered on all the potted plants in front of the bay window, then moved over the entertainment center and the built-in bookshelves. Then he turned to me. His gaze dipped, taking a slow slide down the length of my body, and I felt my toes curl against the hardwood floors. A rush of heady warmth followed his gaze and the answering tight shiver did strange things to certain parts of me.
Our eyes locked.
The stare held that same level of intensity from the day before. The temperature in the room zipped up several degrees and my breath suddenly felt short. He shifted closer.
He was still holding my hand. “I probably shouldn’t have come here.”
“You shouldn’t?”
His head cocked to the side, and I saw then that the collar of his shirt was torn. My heart dropped, and he shook his head as he let go of my hand. I thought he might leave, so I stepped forward, practically closing the distance between us. “Sit.”
Rider looked down at me, his expression indecisive.
“Sit,” I repeated. “Please?”
He looked behind me, seemed to have shuddered, and then he moved a pillow to the side before he sat. “Now what?” he asked, staring up at me with familiar yet strange eyes.
“Stay here.” When he leaned back on the couch, shifting his attention back to the bookshelf, I hurried out of the living room.
In the downstairs bathroom, I grabbed the peroxide and a few cotton balls and didn’t let myself think too much about this or worry about Carl and Rosa. I knew if they came home early, I’d be in so much trouble it wouldn’t even be funny, especially after the conversation yesterday. And though Rider’s presence might be a match to kindling, I honestly didn’t know how they’d react if they came home and found any boy in the house. I’m sure that was another thing that never crossed their minds.
Or mine.
Rider was where I’d left him, and I exhaled softly as I skirted the coffee table. He looked at what I carried, and a half grin appeared. “I’m fine, Mouse. Seriously.”
I shrugged as I came toward him, getting between his knees and the coffee table. “What happened?”
“Just some...some trouble,” he said, rubbing his palm along his jaw. “It’s nothing I want you to worry about.”