Page 40 of Survive the Night
“I know.” She did know. After growing up the way she had, it was easy to believe that everyone hid an evil side. Meeting truly good people, like Otto and others she’d met in Monroe, was a shock—a good one, but still a shock. “I understand how hard it can be to trust people.”
He was silent for a long moment. “I was left at a hospital when I was two.” It surprised her when he spoke, especially when he shared something so personal. She stayed silent, not wanting to say the wrong thing and make him stop talking. “I went through a lot of foster homes. Some were bad.”
Blinking away tears, Sarah studied the piece of hay between her fingers. She didn’t want him to know that the thought of Otto as a hurt little boy made her want to cry, so she kept her head down as he continued.
“When I was eleven, I went to live with the Lopez family. They lived on a cattle ranch east of town.”
“Were they nice?” She had to know, or her heart was going to break for him.
“Yes. They were good people. I learned a lot about animals while I was there. I met Hugh that year, too, and we became friends.”
“Why did you become a cop, rather than a vet?” she asked.
“I knew I could do more good as a cop,” he said. “Besides, I don’t have the temperament to be a vet.”
She laughed, tension leaving her in a rush. Later, she knew, she’d think about Otto as a sweet, quiet little boy in an awful place, and she’d cry. For now, though, she teased, “Too much talking?”
“Way too much.”
When she snuck a glance at him, he was smiling at her. Instantly, she was caught and couldn’t look away. As attractive as he was when he was serious, he was a hundred times more beautiful when he smiled.
Sarah knew she should look away and pretend she hadn’t been staring at him like a creepy stalker, but she just couldn’t. His eyes were so pale in his tan face. That light of blue should’ve been cool, almost frosty, but they were very, very warm instead, like the flame of a gas stove.
He slowly—almost shyly—raised his hand and ran his fingertips along the curve of her cheek, along her jaw to her ear, and then down the side of her neck. Sarah’s shivers had nothing to do with the cold air. In fact, her skin prickled with heat. Otto leaned closer, his gaze locked on her mouth, and Sarah’s stomach swooped like she was going through the loop-the-loop on a roller coaster.
His lips were close, so close that she closed her eyes, waiting for the kiss. The seconds ticked by, but the contact she wanted never came. She opened her eyes to see him watching her with a look she couldn’t interpret.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, although a big part of her didn’t want to know if there was a problem. The selfish, shallow, needy part just wanted him to kiss her.
He opened his mouth and then closed it again, and Sarah started to worry. What was so bad that he couldn’t say the words? All sorts of horrible scenarios trampled through her mind: he was married or he was dying or he didn’t really want her or—
“I want you,” he said baldly, and she jumped at the juxtaposition of her thought with his words. She had a nonsensically worried moment that he’d managed to read her mind. “I like you.”
What’s the right response to that? she wondered frantically. As the moment stretched awkwardly, she finally blurted out, “Thank you.” As soon as the words were said, she wanted to smack her head against the barn wall. “I mean, I’m glad, since I do, too. Like you, that is.” Desperately wishing she’d actually gone away to college and had managed to gain some social skills and experience in conversations like these, she shut her mouth firmly before any more nonsense could escape.
His smile came slowly, like his speech, curling up until the corners of his eyes wrinkled. Sarah was fascinated. He was so honest. He was smiling because he was truly happy. Growing up, everyone she’d met—including herself—had been hiding something. Their masks kept them alive, and Sarah had become so accustomed to hiding that she’d forgotten that not everyone was forced to live that way. Otto reminded her that people could actually mean what they said.
“Good.” His fingers ghosted over her cheek again. “You don’t have to, though.”
Her forehead puckered with confusion. She hadn’t said any of her thoughts out loud, had she? There was no way—she was an expert at hiding her feelings. “What?”
Otto’s eyes closed for a moment before he looked at her again. “Sorry.” Even in the low light, Sarah could see a slight reddening of his face under his tan, and it intrigued her as much as his slow and authentic smile had. “I’m making a mess of this.”
“Not a mess,” she hurried to say, although she still didn’t know what he was talking about. “I’m just not sure what you’re saying.”
“Even if you aren’t…interested. In me, I mean.” His cheeks darkened even more. “You can stay here. I would never push you into something you didn’t want.”
“I know.”
He still looked concerned, so Sarah caught his hand and squeezed it.
“I know,” she repeated, meeting his gaze evenly so he would understand that she was serious, that she wasn’t just blowing off his warning. “I can see it.”
“See it?” His fingers closed around hers, and she marveled at his gentleness. It was such a contrast to how rough his skin was and how large his hands were. They could crush hers, but she trusted that they never would.
“You bottle-feed puppies.”
He paused, as if waiting for her to continue. “So?”
