“Please.” Her voice was nice. Husky. Warm. “I need your help.”
Again with the H-word. Tragic. Remy released the beer and rose. He tossed a twenty onto the table. The bartender was staring at a football game on a miniscule TV, not paying them any attention. “This is where I think the confusion originates. You seem to believe I am someone who helps. I’m not.” But, well, hecouldgive her helpful advice. He edged around the table toward her.
The angel backed up a quick step and sucked in a breath.
Average height. Maybe five-foot-six or so. She tilted her head back to look up at him.
“Rodney over there follows the rules of most local establishments.” Remy pointed to the bartender.
Her gaze flew toward the back of Rodney’s gleaming head. Rodney made a habit of shaving his head clean every three days. Like clockwork.
“What rules?” she whispered.
“No shirt, no shoes, no service.” Remy pointed downward at her adorable, though dirty, toes. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you appear to have lost something.”
She grabbed his shirtfront. Fisted the fabric beneath her hands. “I need to get out of here!”
Remy raised his hand and plucked a leaf from her hair. “Did you run through the woods?”
“Yes.” She shivered. Clutched his shirt even tighter. “I saw the big, black truck outside. Tell me it’s yours.”
Technically, it wasn’t, but he lied all the time so… “It’s mine.”
“Take me away in it.”
Now Remy realized that he was going to say words that henever, everhad thought he would say, especially given his previous type of work. “You seem to be having some sort of incident.”
“What?” Her glorious eyes doubled in size.
“Your clothes are muddy. You have leaves in your hair. You’ve lost your shoes.” He shrugged. “And you’re approaching a complete stranger for help. I’m assuming all of this means you’re in some sort of danger.”
“Yes.”
And here were the words. The ones he couldn’t believe he was about to utter but… “I would suggest calling the cops. The local sheriff is surprisingly adequate.” He reached for her hands. Closed his fingers around her wrists and…
Heat slid up from his fingertips. He frowned but didn’t pry her hands from his shirt.
“Don’t turn me over to the cops!”
Interesting word choice from his mystery lady.
“Please…” She looked over her shoulder once more. She kept doing that, as if she feared that someone had followed her. But no one else had entered the bar. “I just need a ride. Take me out of here. Act like—act like we’re together.”
A sigh slipped from Remy. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that strangers can be dangerous? You should not approach them. You should not ask for rides from them.” He considered the matter. “I think you’re also not supposed to take candy from them.”
Her head whipped back toward him. Those deep, deep green eyes locked on him. Such big eyes.
“I don’t have candy,” he murmured. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Are you dangerous?” she squeaked.
Ah, well, at least she’d paid attention to that part of his little speech. “In so many wonderful ways, yes.” A thousand times, yes.
The mystery lady immediately freed him. She stepped back. Shoved her hands behind her body.
Fabulous. Now they were making real progress. He pointed to the oblivious Rodney. “He has a phone behind the counter. Call the sheriff.” There. Remy had done his due diligence. Time to be on his merry way back to his cabin in the woods. Except…
He plucked the second leaf from her hair and put it on the table. He also didn’t leave.