Page 6 of Search for the Truth
On reflex her hand clenched again.
It was only by the grace of luck that she didn’t use her fist when a man came up at her side and startled her.
“Excuse me.”
The voice was a deep, deep baritone. A sound that almost felt like it was anchoring her to the spot. Which seemed to match perfectly with the man it had come from.
He was tall. A tall that would have been comical on most, yet the man was wearing his height, and everything else, well. He looked tailor-made by a group of women who had grown up watching romance movies, where the male lead was the rough-and-tumble handyman next door. Dark eyes, dark hair slightly unruly but in a neat way, facial hair clipped close, and all pleasing angles making up a face that was as handsome as it was alarming when it popped up out of nowhere. There was a scar, she thought, near his neck, but for the life of her, Blake’s detail-oriented brain skittered a bit.
The best she could do was raise an eyebrow in question.
A question that the man answered before she could put it into words.
“I thought maybe this could help you out for the time being.” He held out a denim shirt. Blake was so flustered she took it. The man nodded to the doors. “It might make you more comfortable in there.”
Blake blinked a few times.
“You want me to wear this?”
The man shrugged.
“If you want to, you can. I’ve seen a few ladies come in wearing these things like jackets, so it might look trendy.”
Blake was about to do the polite thing and refuse the offer, but feedback from the gym cut through the thought. Blake turned toward the window on the door. The daycare director was at the microphone onstage.
“If you don’t want to wear it, it’s no big deal,” the man added. “You can just throw it on the chair over there.”
He pointed to the corner of the lobby.
Blake eyed the shirt in her hands.
It was long-sleeved and blue. A button-up left open. It seemed clean enough and would certainly cover the water stain.
The man went through the doors without another word.
Blake opened her mouth to tell him no thanks, ask his name and ask why he was doing this, but the director’s voice cut off all worries.
Blake put the shirt on like a jacket and hurried inside.
LIAMFOUNDTHEwoman when a little girl onstage told the entire gym about the differences between moths and butterflies. While the girl was quiet and mostly still, a woman in the last row of seating was not. She shot up tall and wielding two cell phones, both of which were trained squarely on the kid. From Liam’s angle, he could see her mouthing along with the short speech.
He could also she was wearing his shirt.
Liam was glad for it. Offering the piece of clothing to her had been an impulsive act. One that had been spurred on by her body language alone.
He hadn’t meant to, but Liam watched as she tensed and panicked, as she balled her hands into fists, as she hesitated.
All while outside of a daycare program.
Liam had thought about his own mother when he was a kid. She’d had to do a lot solo since his father was deployed. Liam didn’t know this woman’s story—if she was single or if she was temporarily by herself—but the urge to help her had been one he couldn’t ignore. He had only hoped it would be helpful.
He was glad to see that it must have been.
“Hey, I found her.” Price sidled up to him, voice low. They were standing at the wall on the side of the open gym. The lights were mostly off, so the stage was the center of attention, but Liam could still see where Price pointed.
“She’s in the flowery dress with the big hair,” he added on.
Liam nodded and pushed his arm back down.
