He looked rough around the edges, as if he spent more time on the streets than at home. His clothes were disheveled and a day away from being utterly filthy. I noticed the serpent tattoo on his arm, one that looked like it had been given to him in the dark with how badly it was done.
His eyes were locked on me, the expression he wore, the way he slowly smiled when he pulled the bottle away, showing a missing tooth at the side of his mouth, had my body revolting.
I made my way across the street and quickly went toward the SUV. I didn’t like the way he made me feel. It was the way some men made me feel when I had to walk home from the pub a few nights.
Dirty.
They made me feel lewd and obscene, as if I were naked, and nothing I could do could shield myself from them.
Once the back door was open, I started shoving in the grocery bags, just wanting to get in the vehicle, wanting to get back to the house… back to Fin. That last bit didn’t surprise me, although it should. I liked his presence.
He made me feel safe, not just because he was a big, Viking-sized man, but because there was a presence about him that made me feel like nothing could penetrate the safety that surrounded me when I was with him.
I put the last bag in the back and shut the door and was about to turn around and put the cart in the little corral, when a shocked gasp left me. The guy who’d been standing by the side of the building was now on the other side of the cart, his hand on the red handle, his cigarette now gone as he grinned at me.
He brought the bottle up and took another drink before saying, “You have a couple dollars you could spare?” His voice was scratchy, as if he’d been smoking for the past forty years, although he hadn’t even been alive that long.
He gave me a wider grin. I swallowed but didn’t answer right away. It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to people asking for money. That happened quite frequently in the city. But I just felt uncomfortable with this man, as if what he really wanted had nothing to do with cash.
I slowly shook my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t.” His smile faded, and he moved around the cart, coming closer to me. I shifted the cart so it was still between us.
“You’re telling me all those groceries you just bought, this big, nice SUV you drive, you can’t spare a couple bucks to someone in need?”
I started to get really nervous. “This is my employer’s vehicle. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” I started pushing the cart toward the corral, but when he gripped my forearm and jerked me back, instinct took over.
His grip was strong, bruising even, and I knew he’d be going for my purse next. After that? I didn’t know. He seemed desperate for just about anything if he was willing to attack someone in the parking lot of a grocery store while it was still light out.
But living in the city meant you had to know how to take care of yourself. It had been something my father instilled in me when I was younger. So I’d taken self-defense classes religiously. I’d never had to use them, not until now.
I brought my knee up right to his groin, and the grunt of pain that came from him gave me pride. He doubled over, grabbing his crotch as he struggled to catch his breath.
He stumbled backward, his body hitting one of the other vehicles, the car alarm going off and the brown-paper-covered liquor bottle falling from his grasp. The bottle didn’t break, but the sound of it clanking on the pavement seemed to echo loudly. The alcohol that was left inside poured out onto the asphalt.
He hauled ass out of there, the commotion drawing attention. I shoved the cart in the corral and got in the Suburban quickly, locking the doors and squeezing the steering wheel tightly.
My heart was beating like a racehorse, and a light sheen of sweat covered my body. I looked down at my forearm, the skin red and feeling raw. I knew there would be a bruise before the night was over with.
Half an hour later, I pulled in front of the house and cut the engine. My pulse had calmed slightly, but my mind was still running wild over the situation. My arm burned, the redness starting to show purple and blue on my skin.
I closed my eyes and just breathed. I pushed the experience away—tried to, at least—knowing I couldn’t let it affect me or I’d obsess over it. Things could have gone a lot worse, but they didn’t. I’d handled myself, diffused the situation just like I’d been taught, and I was whole.
Maybe I should have called the police, but I’d just wanted to get out of there. And besides, it wasn’t like I knew who the guy was. Aside from the serpent tattoo on his arm and the missing tooth he sported, he was probably like any other guy who thought they could take advantage.
I exhaled once more and smoothed my hands over my thighs. Things weren’t so bad, I kept telling myself. I let my mind go to Fin and it made me feel more at ease.
He made me feel more at ease.
The one thing about Finland Hawthorne was he not only wanted meals prepared each night, but he wanted me to actually eat those meals with him. At first, I declined, not feeling comfortable. I was his employee, after all, and eating with my boss seemed very personal and almost intimate.
But he insisted, almost demanded, and after the first couple times of my initial awkwardness, I started looking forward to these moments where we sat across from each other and just talked. He was a quiet man, reserved, very personal. And that’s how it had always been with him.
But I felt like he opened up to me, little by little, piece by piece. He wanted to know so much about me... the little things, what I liked and disliked, what my favorite season was, if I preferred horror or comedy movies. And telling him about me was so easy. I wanted to share bits of myself with the man I was falling for harder each day.
It was dangerous to feel these things, and a part of me wished I could stop.
I actually felt myself smile as I thought of those things, how he made me feel. Thinking about him pushed away the horrible experience at the grocery store. I inhaled, just letting it sink in, just letting myself absorb it.
I’d have to face these feelings eventually. I couldn’t keep pushing them down, couldn’t keep hiding them. And although eventually I’d have to be honest with him, because it would just be too hard working for Fin while my feelings for him continued to grow, a part of me thought that maybe this wasn’t one-sided.
The way he looked at me constantly, as if he always had to know where I was, certainly wasn’t something an employer did. Not that I experienced anyway.
So maybe if I was honest, he’d be honest as well?
Or maybe if I told him the truth, I’d lose my job, have to go back into the city, and I’d never feel this way for another person again.
9
Fin
If I were being honest, Kitty leaving the house set me on edge. I didn’t like her away from me, and I didn’t want to scare her off by being overly possessive. But when she told me she was going to the store to get groceries for the week, I nearly told her I’d take her.
Don’t smother her.
Don’t scare her off.
That’s what I told myself over and over again, and I’d been surprised as hell at myself that I actually listened to that inner voice. I hadn’t wanted to, that was for damn sure, but I let her go, watched her take my Suburban, insisting she use that vehicle because it was the safest, because it was big like a fucking tank.