Page 8 of Swept Away

“Do you know who this old woman might be?” I ask.

“I have no idea,” he says, his eyes igniting little fires across my lips.

He struggles to move his stare to my eyes, and I doubt his story is true.

He's paying more attention to my mouth than my story.

“Okay… Well, do you have a phone number? I can call you if anyone fitting your description steps into that house?”

He hesitates before he speaks again.

“Yeah. We can do that.”

“I don’t have my phone with me right now.”

“I’ll call you,” he says, scooping out his phone from his back pocket. “What’s your phone number?”

I give him my number before he calls my phone.

It rings in my room, and his eyes go in that direction.

I don’t know if it was wise to tell him so much about me. He now has my phone number and knows where I live.

And what do I know about him?

He’s sex on a stick and good at crafting a story, which I bet is a lie.

There is no sister in this story, and yet she’s the only reason I’m here, still talking to him.

He ends the call, and silence falls over us.

I speak again, convinced I’ll never call this man.

“Thanks for the cat,” I say and reluctantly give him a little wave.

“Any time,” he says, reaching inside his pocket and pulling out a cigarette.

He slides it between his lips and leaves it unlit.

“Call him Gizmo,” he says as I spin around to leave.

I stop and look at him.

“Why?”

“He’s cute and curious,” he answers around his cigarette and gives me a smile that’s only for me, a mix of mischief and trouble.

My cheeks burn again, and a soft wave of pleasure sets my insides alight.

Normally, I’d flash back a flirting smile and flick my hair over my shoulder.

None of that is possible now, as my grin would look like I was trying too hard, and my hair can’t just magically escape my loose bun.

Smiling to myself, I shift around and wave at him again, although he’s not looking at me, busy with making the trip back.

GEMMA