Melinda expelled a sigh. She was trying to sound annoyed but she suspected she came across as spoiled instead. “There’s a pub just down that street.” She lifted her phone from her bag. “But I only have an hour.”
“An hour is good.” He fell into step beside her, adjusting his long stride to match her shorter one.
“Do you live around here?” Melinda asked, after several moments of silence had prickled between them.
“I’m not from England,” he said after a pause. “I’m just here for a few months.”
Well, that was good. Good to know. Because Melinda could never be interested in someone who wasn’t going to stay around.
Interested in someone? Jeez! This poor guy was doing a good deed and she was sizing him up for marriage already. She had literally known him for all of ten minutes. What was wrong with her?
The pub, when they arrived, was warm. It glowed amber through the windows and there was a buzz of conviviality coming from within the walls. Christmas lights were strung across the street, giving the whole area a glow that had been noticeably absent from the alley.
“Here?” He compressed his lips but she caught the hint of distaste.
“Yes,” she said defiantly. “Is there something wrong with it?”
He opened his mouth as if to enumerate its failings and then thought better of it. “It will do.” He grabbed the door and held it open for her. “After you.”
“Thanks.” She stepped into the room and inhaled the smell of safety. Normality. The usual and banal.
He scanned the restaurant and shook his head. “I presume I order at the bar?”
“Yeah. I’ll get it though. It’s the least I can do after you came to my rescue.” She reached into her bag for her wallet but he put a hand over hers. Sparks shimmered over her skin. His touch was terrifying for the instant effect it had on her body. She jerked her eyes to his face just in time to catch speculation there.
“Buying you dinner is part of the service,” he said simply. “I insist.”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “I’ll find a table then.”
She chose one near the back of the bar, away from the crowds. It wasn’t that she wanted to be alone with her good Samaritan so much as she wanted to be away from others. The reality of what had happened was beginning to sink in, and though she was putting a brave face on it, there was horror there too.
Horror, compounded by the discovery that Brent had, yet again, ditched rehab.
Months of pressuring him into going, the hope that maybe this time would be different, all evaporated before her.
She leaned back in her chair and looked into the pub just as Ra’if began to cut through the crowds. He did so effortlessly, his tall, muscular body moving with a lithe athleticism that spoke of true strength. Even in this crowd of after-work professionals, dressed in his exercise gear, he seemed to radiate power and machismo.
He slid a glass of red wine towards her and straddled the seat opposite. She noted he had no drink for himself.
“Thank you.” Melinda didn’t drink often, but her nerves were quivering inside of her. She sipped it, taking in a big gulp and closing her eyes as the warmth of the wine soothed its way down her body. She could feel it spreading to her fingertips and toes, quietening the frantic race of her pulse. She sipped again, eyes still closed, mind racing.
“Hey.” He reached over and put a hand on hers. Sparks seared her soul. She jerked her eyes open and stared at him. Their eyes locked and it was though a wild electrical current was arcing between them. But it was out of their control; it was sharp and it was strong. “Don’t be afraid now. What happened to you was random. He’s gone. You’re okay.”
Was she?
Why did Melinda feel more terrified now than she had in the alley? She knew she should pull her hand away but her body wouldn’t cooperate. “I know that.” She sipped her wine once more, but kept her eyes on his.
“Do you always leave work at this hour?” He asked, pulling his hand away and settling back in the chair.
“No.” She frowned. “I rarely stay after five.” It was just that Jordan was having a play with the kids upstairs, and she’d needed space and time to process yet another Brent disappointment. “I got caught up,” she said as though it hardly mattered.
A waiter appeared a minute later. “Chips?” She juggled a bowl onto the table and Melinda smiled her thanks.
“And the steak?”
Melinda looked at Ra’if.
“Just put it anywhere.”