Page 85 of Phoenix

Chapter 20

Case

I’ve never been one to watch the clock. I’m generally an easy going, casual, it’ll happen if it happens kind of guy. At least, I am outside of work.

I’ve never sat and simply stared at the time over a woman. Ever.

Until Nora Masen that is.

Phoenix. The spitfire I’ve become so attached to that I’m sitting in my house, alone with my dog, staring at a clock, waiting for a knock on my door.

Rain is trickling outside as a summer storm rolls in. It’s an everyday occurrence in this part of the South. A little bit of rain, every, single day. Sometimes more, never less.

Each minute that ticks toward nine o’clock, I lose more and more hope she will actually show.

“I fucked up, Arya,” I say, and she just tilts her head in response from her spot on the couch.

I check my phone for texts that aren’t there, for calls that never came, for anything to show she’s tried to reach out, but there’s nothing. Not a peep.

“When did I become this man?” I say out loud, but really to Arya, as if she can answer. “When did I become the man who just waits around for the woman to come to me? Fuck that.”

I stand from my spot on the couch. “If she wants to play stubborn and refuse to hear me out, that’s fine, but I’m stubborn. I’m bullheaded too.” I swipe my keys from the table and move toward the door. “I’m going to her.”

I swing the door open and am met with the most beautiful pair of eyes I’ve ever seen and an arm raised as if she were about to knock.

“Holy shit!” Nora says, placing her hand over her heart. “You scared me. Were you watching for me or something?”

“No...I was coming to you.”

“But you told me to come here at nine,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“So you were going to chase me down?” she questions, arching her brow.

“I was going to make sure you heard me out. I was going to make sure you had all the information about what happened.” I lean against the doorjamb.

We just stare at each other—like we are waiting for the other to make a move—when Mother Nature forces our hands, in the form of a loud thunder crash that pulls a yelp from Nora’s lips, and sends her jumping into my arms.

“Whoa. Easy.” I wrap an arm around her back to steady her, minding my now wrapped, busted hand.

“I’m sorry.” She pushes back. “That startled me.”

“Let’s go inside before it gets bad out there.” I step aside to give her room to come in.

Arya barks once, in excitement, then bounds over to greet her.

“Hi, sweet girl.” Nora is down on her knees, eye level with Arya, rubbing both sides of her head. “You’re so cute.”

“Thank you,” I say with a grin, trying to lighten the tension.

She looks up at me with an eye roll. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

“When it presents itself, I must oblige.” I stuff my good hand into my pocket and she notices the wrapping on my other.

“What happened to your hand? Are you all right?” She stands and instantly takes it in hers to examine it.

“It’s just a little banged up. I can move my fingers. It’s okay.”

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