Page 32 of Scorched

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” Eliseinsisted, feeling more and more like a burden. “I hate to be such a problem.”

He touched a finger to her lips, startling her into silence.

“Ms. Johnson, you are not the problem.” He winked and stepped away, closing her door firmly between them.

She sat for a moment, her tongue sliding across her lips, the salty taste of his finger giving her entirely different tingles than the scary ones of earlier.

Get a grip, girl.You’re not on the market. A cold slap of reality hit her. She didn’t need to get involved now or ever. All her concentration should be on raising her sons and keeping them safe.

With the little pep talk firmly in mind, she shifted into Drive and blended into the line of cars filled with teens and their parents eager to get away from the school and back home.

Once off campus, she headed for Highland Street, cutting through the back roads. Paul followed.

A red light caught him. Without a good place to pull off the road, Elise continued toward home, turning left at the next intersection. She still couldn’t see Paul and slowed. No one was behind her, so she slowed even more until she was almost at a standstill.

As she peered into her rearview mirror a dark object sailed into her peripheral vision. Something smashed into the front windshield. Elise screamed and flung one of her hands up to protect her face. Glass shattered, tinyshards projecting through the air. Elise slammed her foot to the break and squeezed her eyes shut.

Too late. Little slivers of glass prickled behind her eyelids. Afraid to open her eyes and unable to move, she sat frozen in her seat, her heart hammering in her chest.

CHAPTER 9

At least fivetimes in the two minutes he sat at the red light, Paul debated running it. Each time he talked himself down. What could happen to Elise in two minutes?

The light changed. Just as Paul pressed his foot to the accelerator, a young woman driving a burgundy sports car and talking on a cell phone ran the red light.

“Damn!” Paul slammed his foot on the brakes to keep from hitting the oblivious idiot. As soon as she passed, Paul checked for oncoming traffic. Nothing. He hit the accelerator and sped forward, determined to catch up with Elise before she got home.

At the next corner, he barely slowed, taking the turn a little faster than was safe for the normal driver. His tires squealed and he slowed. That’s when he saw Elise’s metallic gray, four-door sedan with the blue and goldMinnesota Vikings bumper sticker parked in the middle of the road.

Paul slammed his foot to the brakes and skidded to a halt behind her. He engaged his emergency blinker and jumped from his truck.

As he rounded the side of the vehicle, shards of glass on the ground caught the sunlight and twinkled up at him. Elise sat inside, her body rigid, her hands covering her face.

Paul’s heart jumped into his throat, and he jerked at the door handle. “Elise!” The door was locked. “Elise, unlock the door.” With desperation trumping reason, Paul yanked on the door, knowing it wouldn’t open until she unlocked it.

Her eyes still shut, Elise dropped her left hand to the armrest and fumbled to locate the power switch for the door lock.

At the faint click, Paul jerked the door handle and flung open the door. “Elise?”

Both hands were covering her eyes again. “I have glass in my eyes. I’m afraid to do anything in case it cuts me.”

“Just be still. I have a bottle of water in my truck. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Reluctant to leave her, Paul ran back to his truck and rummaged in the backseat for the bottle of water he kept handy for after a workout. By the time he got backto her, Elise had turned sideways in her seat and set her feet on the pavement.

“Here, let me help you.” He hooked an arm around her waist and helped her straighten without bumping her head. He steered her to the curb. “How bad does it hurt?”

“Just prickles like big grains of sand in my eye. But I’m afraid to blink or open my eyes until I have something to remove the glass.”

When she’d straightened, Paul slid his hand from around her waist up beneath the hair at the back of her neck. “Lean back and I’ll flush your eyes with the water.”

She tipped her head back, a small chuckle escaping her. “You’re going to smear my mascara.”

That she could laugh at a time like this was more than Paul could take and not kiss her. He pressed his lips to her temple. “I promise not to laugh.” Holding the bottle poised over her left eye, he said, “Tilt your head a bit to the left so we don’t wash it out of one eye into the other.”

Oblivious to the cars creeping around them in the street, Paul poured water over her eyelid. “Open slowly.”

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