Page 2 of Guarding Her Love

“You still not over that two-timing slut, man? Forget her, dude. There’s plenty of fish in the sea.”

“I don’t want plenty of fish,” I reply. “I just want one…fish. The perfect fish.”

“Doesn’t exist, pal. Unless you’re talking about fresh caught Atlantic salmon, pan fried with thyme and butter.”

Tim loves to cook. I can barely make a steak without charring the shit out of it. It’s a shame he’s not a woman; we’d make a pretty good couple.

“I gotta go, Tim,” I tell him. Normally, I’d be happy to chat for the ride home, but I know he’s just going to hassle me more on my “celibacy” and how I need to get back out there and start dating, and I don’t want to hear it.

“Hey, man. I’m just trying to talk some sense into you,” he persists. “How about that girl, Susan I’ve been trying to set you up with? She’s free tomorrow night.”

“Sure, put me down for a date,” I reply.

“You’re a shitty liar,” Tim laughs.

“Later.”

I hang up and set my phone aside and take another breath. Tim is just trying to help, but I’m really not interested. I’m not actively trying to be a monk – to be celibate – but I’m also not looking to just hook up with a ton of girls either. I want one woman—the perfect woman.

I thought I had her with Gloria. We met my junior year of high school, dated until graduation, and she stayed with me for the whole time I was in the service, even when I was deployed overseas. Knowing she was at home waiting for me gave me the strength to make it through those times. But when I got back, it all came crashing down.

I tried dating a bit after her, but it all felt hollow. Call me a romantic, call me old fashioned, but if I don’t feel that spark the moment I meet a girl, I’m just not interested. And since Gloria, that spark’s been missing from my life.

My breaks squeal as I take a turn past the railroad tracks, and just as I’m pulling up the hill, a white station wagon crashes right into me.

“Shit!” I cry out as my head slams into the steering wheel and the seatbelt cuts into my chest. The passenger side window shatters and I look up to see steam spraying from the hood of the car that just hit me.

“Oh, unbelievable!” I exclaim. I have to laugh; after the day – after the year I’ve had – this is just the cherry on top of the most bitter sundae in the world. I unbuckle my seatbelt, shove my door open and get out of the car. The driver’s sitting motionless in their car, and as I get closer, I see it’s a woman. She’s slumped over the steering wheel with her hair covering her face. Her window’s down, and when I look in, thankfully, I don’t see any blood.

“Tell me you’re not dead,” I say. But she doesn’t move. Fuck. Her door is all mangled and crushed against my car, so I have to go around to the passenger side to get to her. I lean across the seat and gently lean her back and brush the hair from her face, and what I see takes my breath away.

She’s gorgeous, devastatingly so. Smooth skin, plump lips, long soft hair…and curves that go on for days. She’s got a wicked bu

mp on her head too, and while I’m really worried about her, I can’t stop my body from responding the way any man’s would.

“Jesus…” I whisper under my breath as I put my hand on her neck. She has a pulse, so thankfully she’s not dead – just out cold. I look around and find a water bottle on the ground, pour some into my hand and splash it on her face. “Hey. You all right?”

Her face twitches, her eyelids flutter and she slowly opens her eyes. When she sees me, she loses her shit.

“No!” she cries out, flailing her arms frantically. She swings one fist at my face; I catch it, and she swings another. I catch it too and push them back against the seat.

“Relax, relax!” I tell her, trying to keep my voice at a reasonable level. “I’m not here to hurt you. You were in an accident, all right? You ran into my car. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“Wh—what?” she stammers. “I what?”

“You ran into my car,” I repeat. “Are you all right? Do you know where you are?”

“I—”

She’s confused. Her voice is strained, but I’m captivated by her. Her eyes blaze with an intensity I have never seen from a woman, and I feel a swell of something inside me that I haven’t felt in years. A spark, like I never thought I’d feel again.

“What’s your name?” I ask her. She looks around, panicked, like she’s running from something or someone. I reach out and gently take her face and pull it back; her eyes lock on to mine and I feel it again.

Holy shit.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I tell her. “What’s your name?”

“J—Joy,” she stammers. “My name is Joy.”

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