Page 38 of Ruin Me Gently

The only sound was the occasional chirp of a waking bird.

Oh, shit.

It hit me that I was standing there in nothing but an oversized, ancient T-shirt that hung off one shoulder, exposing my collarbone like a tragic Victorian ghost. Bare legs out in the open, with goosebumps prickling up my thighs, not just from the cold but from embarrassment.

My neighbours were lovely, all polite smiles and ‘welcome to the neighbourhood cookies.’ And now? Now this was going to be the only impression of me burned into their minds. The new local crazy lady, standing outside before sunrise, wielding what looked like a gun, yelling after some guy on the sidewalk.

The figure shifted slightly, just enough to jolt me back to reality.

Right.

Embarrassment later. Figure out what the hell was going on now.

I cleared my throat, lowering my voice to a harsh whisper. “Hey! Turn around, now!”

His shoulders tensed slightly, like he was debating whether to listen or bolt. But then slowly, he turned.

My vision swam for a second, breath catching in my throat as the world tilted.

Pretty-eye-bike-guy.

He was standing right here, on my street, in front of my house. His hood was up, coat zipped high, scarf pulled over the lower half of his face, but I knew it was him.

What the hell was he doing here?

The weight of the lighter in my hand suddenly felt useless, stupid. It was a little metal toy in a real-life nightmare.

My heart hammered a frantic, erratic beat against my ribs.

I didn’t know what was worse—Clark, the devil I knew…

Or this guy—the one who had grabbed me in the street and was now stood frozen in the dead quiet of the morning, just staring at me.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

My hands were shaking, but like hell I was going to face some man lurking in the shadows without at least looking like I had some semblance of ferocity in me, so I raised the gun.

Our eyes locked, and for a split second—one ridiculous,completely inappropriatesecond—all I could think was, ‘wow, those reallyarepretty eyes.’

I blinked hard, snapping myself out of it.

Jesus Christ, Lilith. Focus.

This was serious.

Okay. Confident face. He didn’t know my stomach was threatening to fall right out of me or that my knees felt like they were about to give out. He didn’t know a single thing unless I let him see it. So I squared my shoulders, planted my feet, and forced steel into my voice.

“You!” I whisper-yelled, jabbing the lighter-gun toward him. “Get the fuck here. Now.”

His head tilted slightly like he was weighing me up, trying to decide if I was actually a threat or just some unhinged woman waving a gun around in her worn-out clothes and broken slippers.

The answer was both.

His gaze dropped from my face to my bare legs, slowly tracing the length of them, lingering where my shirt barely skimmed the tops of my thighs.

My lungs seized.

I couldn’t see his mouth, couldn’t see if there was a smirk hidden beneath that damn scarf, but his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.

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