Torch (Take It Off)

by Cambria Hebert

  Unless, of course, you’re a criminal. Then you probably run out the back door.

  But I wasn’t a criminal and I wasn’t running anywhere.

  Still, I wasn’t happy about it. While Holt answered the door, I stumbled around looking for a pair of pants. I finally found some shorts and pulled them on. I was reluctant to take off his shirt, but I knew I couldn’t leave it on. For one thing, it was so long if I walked out there with it on, it would appear I wasn’t wearing pants.

  That wouldn’t be appropriate.

  But I wondered what Holt’s face would look like…

  It was almost enough to get to me try it out.

  But at the last minute, I peeled it off and threw on a tank top with a built in bra. My wrists were still really sore from last night and all I could think about was a pain pill.

  Okay, and Holt.

  More specifically, today was supposed to be my day for touching.

  It seemed a little alien to me that just yesterday I’d been a little nervous and feeling insecure, but today I was feeling more bold… more willing to give things a try.

  I was smiling when I walked out into the living room. All eyes turned to me. Then I remembered I didn’t comb my hair. I likely looked like I stuck my finger in a light socket.

  I grimaced and wondered if they would think it was weird if I ran from the room in search of a brush.

  I glanced at Holt. He wagged his eyebrows at me.

  Clearly, he would be no help.

  “If it’s all right, Miss Parker, we would like to speak with you about the events that took place last evening at the library.”

  “Of course,” I replied, giving up on my hair and going over to sit on the couch.

  And so the questions began.

  This time they were more involved, more detailed because I’d actually seen someone. It didn’t matter that I didn’t get a look at his face; they seemed to think I probably did and just didn’t realize it because I was so scared. I begged to differ. I knew when I looked at a person’s face and when I didn’t.

  However, they still wanted me to meet with a sketch artist to draw what I saw. I thought it was stupid, but I agreed to it anyway. I certainly wasn’t going to do anything that might slow down the case. I wanted this person caught. I wanted my life back.

  I wanted my life back—didn’t I?

  After I told them everything at least three times, they still said the same thing to me. “We’re investigating. Be cautious.” Then, they finally left.

  The minute Holt shut the door behind them, I went into the kitchen and reached for my pain medicine and a bottle of water.

  “How’s the pain?” he asked, eyeing the way I clutched the bottle.

  It sucked. “Better than last night.”

  He gave me a look that said he knew I was lying, but he didn’t call me out.

  After I took my medicine and downed half the water, I said, “There’s a couple things I need to get at the store. I can pick up something to make for dinner while I’m out. If there’s anything you need, let me know and I’ll pick it up for you.”

  Staying here was hard to swallow sometimes because he wouldn’t let me give him money for rent or utilities. I didn’t like thinking I was mooching off him or he was taking care of me. I liked taking care of myself. The ability to take care of myself was very important to me because I was someone that would never let me down. I was someone who always looked out for me. I realized Holt was being far more supportive than most, but I still didn’t want to lean too much on him because that would make standing up straight again that much harder.

  Finally, I got him to agree to let me pay for the groceries. And then my time in the kitchen sort of became impromptu cooking lessons, so at least I felt I was repaying him even if it was in a small way.

  “I have to work today,” he said as he glanced at the clock.

  “Are you late?” I wondered, thinking he usually went in early when he had to work.

  “Yeah,”

  My eyes widened. I made him late! I wallowed all over him in bed and caused him to miss his alarm.

  He chuckled, taking in my expression. “Relax, I told them last night I would be late on account of the police coming by today. Their visit is technically work related.”

  Relief poured through me. “Do you have to spend the night tonight?”

  Since I’d been here, he had yet to pull an overnight shift, but I knew it was something he often did. It was only a matter of time before he announced he wasn’t coming home. The thought of him not being here tonight was very disappointing for two reasons:

  One, I didn’t relish the idea of being in his home alone.

  And, two, if he wasn’t here, I couldn’t look at him without his shirt.

  “Normally, yes,” he began, and I hid my regret, but then he said, “But a couple of the guys agreed to take my night shifts so I could be here.”

  It made me wonder how much he told the guys he worked with about my situation. Surely they were curious after responding to three incidents involving me. I wondered what his relationship with them was like. Was it a formal “yes, sir” “no, sir,” or was it more friendly and open?

  “Oh, well, I hope it isn’t taking them away from their families.”

  His eyes softened at my concern over his coworkers’ lives. “It’s not. I’ve taken a lot of the overnight and weekend shifts the past year since I was separated and divorced from Taylor. They owe me.”

  His mention of Taylor left me feeling a little sick. I didn’t like to think of her perfect Barbie hands touching him.

  I murmured some sort of agreement and then moved past him to go tame the nest of hair on my head before heading out.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he said, catching me around the waist and towing me backward.

  “To brush my hair?”

  To my astonishment, he began to nuzzle the side of my neck. I felt his deep inhale of breath and thought, Did he just smell me?

  Tingly shivers raced across my skin, all the way down to the floor where my toes curled against the linoleum. Brushing away my hair, his lips moved across my neck, pressing moist, gentle kisses to my extremely sensitive flesh. One of his arms wrapped around me from behind, pulling me fully up against his body. It certainly didn’t escape my attention that there was something very hard and very large poking me in the back.

  Apprehension slithered like an unwanted guest up my spine. I had no idea how something like that was supposed to fit into someone like me. My body certainly didn’t seem to think it would be a problem, but my brain wasn’t so sure.

  I turned my head to the side and he moved up, capturing my lips in an all-encompassing kiss. Slowly, he spun me around so I faced him and he could fully claim my mouth. Before pulling his head away, he cupped my butt, giving it a gentle squeeze and then looking down at me with a thoroughly satisfied smile on his face. “Good morning.”

  Something had changed between us. Last night was the first time since our morning kiss in the kitchen. I’d thought after that kiss he wasn’t interested because of the way he pulled away. But now… now we felt closer. The magnetic energy that pulsed between us was harder to ignore.

  “What’s the matter, Freckles?” he said, pressing a light kiss to the tip of my nose.

  “What changed?” I blurted out.

  He drew back. “Changed?”

  “You seemed like you were trying to keep distance between us before, but after last night…”

  “I should get a medal for managing to keep my hands off you that long.”

  “It was only a few days,” I reminded him dryly.

  “Felt like a lifetime.”

  “So those first kisses… you liked them?”

  His eyes widened. “You thought that I didn’t?”

  “Well, after that you didn’t touch me.”

  “Shit,” he swore beneath his breath and ran a hand over his head. “I liked it too much. The sparks between us are so hot, I was afraid I
wouldn’t be able to stop. I was afraid I would scare you off. Thank God I did because you’re so innocent.”

  Innocent? Ugh.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “So what changed your mind?”

  His smile was sexy and filled with innuendo. “I realized you could handle the heat.”

  I still wasn’t so sure, but I didn’t tell him that. “Well, you are definitely hot.”

  He grinned. He had such a big ego. “How hot?”

  I shook my head. “So hot your touch leaves torch marks on my skin.”

  He whistled between his teeth. “Damn. I’m good.”

  I patted his chest. “I’m going to get ready.”

  I ended up just pulling my hair up into a topknot on my head, not even bothering to try to tame the frizz. It was one of the reasons I was going out. I needed some serum to help tame it. And I also needed some body lotion, some more disposable razors, and a few other girl necessities. If Holt was going to be touching me a lot more, then I needed to look good.

  I shoved my feet in a pair of flip-flops and grabbed the canvas navy-blue purse I got off the clearance rack at Target, containing my library ID, a lip gloss, and new bank cards. Thankfully, the bank got new ones to me immediately to save me many trips to the bank itself.

  I still didn’t have a wallet or any of the other items I used to carry around, but it was better than nothing at all.

  I made it all the way to the front door when I realized I was forgetting something essential.

  I didn’t have a car.

  It was still being looked at for evidence.

  Holt came out of the hallway a few minutes later, dressed for work in a pair of dark jeans and a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up around his elbows and collar open at the throat.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I forgot I don’t have my car.”

  “Well, that is a problem.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll call a cab. While I’m out, I’ll stop by and bug the police for my car.”

  “You’re not taking a cab.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have no idea who drives those things. They probably don’t even have real driver’s licenses.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, right. Isn’t that illegal?”

  “So is arson and murder,” he said seriously.

  I felt the color drain from my face.

  “I’m not trying to scare you.” He sighed.

  He didn’t really; I was already scared.

  “You can take my truck.”

  My eyes about fell out of my head. “I thought no girls were allowed to drive your truck.”

  “You’re not just any girl.”

  “I’m not?”

  He shook his head.

  I glanced out the window toward the driveway where his very huge, very shiny truck sat. “It’s too big.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I’ll hit things.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You better not.”

  “I’ll just stay here.”

  “You’ll be bored in five minutes.”

  I’d rather be bored than driving that thing over curbs.

  “Come on,” he called, going out the front door. “You can drop me off at work.”

  I followed along behind him, hoping I wouldn’t regret this.

  14

  Three telephone books. That’s how many he had to pile on the seat so I could see over the dashboard.

  I wasn’t embarrassed.

  Nope.

  Mortified, uncomfortable, and vaguely amused just about covered how I felt while firefighters piled out of the station to watch their chief stack phone books into the driver’s seat of his cherry-red pick-up and then hoist me up inside.

  Never mind the fact I felt like I had to stretch my leg all the way out to press the gas pedal.

  I giggled as I turned into the parking lot of Target (it’s my favorite store) remembering the slightly greenish cast to Holt’s skin as I drove away. When I raised my hand to wave to him, the green turned much deeper and he yelled, “Both hands on the wheel!”

  I mean really, why did he insist I drive the truck at all?

  It was a nice vehicle, but it was really big and I imagined driving it felt a lot like driving a boat. It seemed to bounce over the road, dipping over every little bump or unevenness in the pavement.

  I parked about a mile away from the entrance. I was terrified of sideswiping another car or getting it stuck in a spot I wouldn’t be able to back out of. So I settled on the very last space in the lot and pulled through so I would be able to drive right out when I left.

  I didn’t really feel like shopping, but I didn’t have anything better to do, so I wandered around for quite a while, looking at things I didn’t need and looking at other things I wish I could afford. I wandered into the home section and caught myself picking out things that would look great in Holt’s place. Throw pillows for the bed, art for the walls, kitchen utensils that could possibly withstand his attempts at a meal. When I realized what I was doing, I stood there looking around like someone caught me with my dress tucked into my pantyhose and toilet paper trailing from the bottom of my shoe. I hightailed it to the makeup section before I ended up at the jewelry counter staring at diamond rings.

  Not going to happen, I reminded myself because clearly, I needed a reminder.

  After that, I got down to business, selecting razors, tweezers, hair products, and all the other basics a girl might need. My eye strayed to some really beautiful hairclips, but I didn’t bother to pick them up because they cost too much money.

  Sighing, I turned away, catching movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked swiftly, only to see something dark disappear around the end of the aisle. I couldn’t help the way my heart rate picked up or the slight tremor in my hands.

  It’s just someone shopping. I reassured myself.

  Even still, I headed away from the section, peering down the aisles as I passed. About three rows down, I saw him.

  A man with a dark hoodie.

  Everything in my cart toppled over with the force of my halting stop.

  What the hell are you doing? my mind demanded. Run!

  But it was too late. The person heard my fumble and turned, pushing back the hoodie and looking in my direction.

  Long blond hair spilled out around her shoulders. She gave me a strange look as I stood there and gaped. I tried to smile and not sound like a complete stalker. “Sorry! I thought you were someone else.” And then I moved away, silently cursing myself.

  I grabbed a couple boxes of the power bars that I noticed Holt liked to eat and then wandered over toward the sleepwear. I gazed at all their cute pajamas, with the tank tops and matching bottoms. The nightgowns were feminine and pretty with bows and polka dots. I thought about getting something… something I could wear to bed in case Holt decided to sleep with me again tonight.

  But in the end I didn’t.

  Because if I bought those pajamas, I wouldn’t need his T-shirt.

  I made my way to the checkout counter, feeling tiny pinpricks of warning on the back of my neck. I felt creepy… I felt watched.

  I glanced around, but no one appeared to be staring.

  Quickly, I paid for my items and piled the bags into the cart. I could have carried them all, but with my wrists still hurting and the mile I had to walk to the truck, I decided I would just use the cart.

  Outside, the summer southern heat blasted me, and I paused to dig in one of the bags for the new pair of sunglasses I picked out. They were white with wide oval-shaped lenses. Once they were in my hand, I checked the street and then continued out, fumbling with the tag hanging from the frame of my shades.

  I heard the acceleration of an engine but didn’t look up.

  Not until the screeching of tires seemed entirely too close and someone across the parking lot gave a shout.

  My head snapped up.

  Time slowed.

  The car did not.

&n
bsp; At the very last second, I swung the cart in front of me and dove to the side, slamming into a parked car and falling onto the hot asphalt.

  The sound of crunching metal pierced my ears.

  I was aware of the car squealing away, and then there were people surrounding me, trying to help me off the ground.