“I’m trying to get to the Stumble Inn, but I got kinda lost. Either of you know where it is?”
The Stumble Inn was a bar on the other side of town, but I didn’t believe his true interest was in asking directions.
“Catch a cab and ask the driver,” I said, my tone curt but polite. “They’ll help you out.”
“Can’t afford a cab, man,” he said. “Got a few bucks?”
I glanced at Annie out of the corner of my eye. Her eyes widened slightly, and her limbs were stiff. Just like me, she’d sensed the danger and was prepared, tensed.
“Not tonight,” I said. “Have a good one.”
My body still positioned between him and Annie, I stuck my arm out to lead her away. One of his hands shot out, grabbing Annie by the wrist before we’d taken a step. The other deftly reached into his pocket and pulled out a mean-looking blade.
“That’s a nice purse,” he said. “Bet she’s got a few extra dollars in there.”
Annie let out a scream, trying to jerk her hand away. He gripped her tightly, however, not letting her go.
It was the last move he had a chance to make.
The first step was getting Annie out of harm’s way. I grabbed his wrist, twisting and squeezing it hard enough to break his grip. I shoved the man back, making damn sure he wasn’t close enough to touch her, let alone hurt her.
“Ow! Shit!” He grabbed his wrist with his other hand, the blade dangling between his middle and index finger.
My nerves even and calm, I focused on the problem at hand and solving it as though it were nothing. Panic didn’t enter into it.
Next step was disarming him. I pulled my fist back, driving it hard in his direction. His eyes went wide as my fist connected with his jaw, a sickening crack indicating a broken jaw. Pain radiated through my hand instantly. The man stumbled back, his knife dropping to the ground with a clatter. He fell next, stumbling and hitting the sidewalk hard, blood trickling down the side of his mouth. He was in a total daze.
I spotted the knife on the ground and kicked it away, making sure it wasn’t in arm’s reach of the man. I turned to Annie. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. Then she glanced down at my hand. “But you’re not.”
I raised my hand to my face and saw what she meant. I was bleeding. Not a lot – just a few drops. “We need to get out of here,” I said.
I put my hand on the small of Annie’s back, shooting the mugger one last hard look before leading her away from the scene. Less than a minute or two later, we were at my car, the locks clicking shut.
“Holy shit,” she breathed, tension releasing from her shoulders.
“Are you alright?” I repeated.
“Fine,” she said, reaching for my hand. “But your hand.”
“It’s nothing – probably just grazed a tooth.”
“It’s not nothing – you’re bleeding.”
“Let me get back to my place before we worry about a scratch. Okay?”
A nod. “Okay.”
The drive was silent, and all I could think about was how fucking furious I was, how enraged the idea of anyone even thinking about hurting Annie made me. Relief hit me as soon as we pulled up to the house. As we approached it, her head swiveled so she could look at everything.
“Wow,” she mused, eyes wide when we pulled into my drive. “This place is all yours?”
“It is.”
I parked in the garage and led her inside. Her eyes moved around every inch as if we’d just walked into some kind of ancient cathedral. “I think you could fit a dozen of my apartments in here.”
Her attention was captured by the tall, arched windows that overlooked the back stretch of the property, the mountains rising in the distance. As she watched, I flicked on the gas for the fireplace, warm, inviting flames rising inside.
“This is amazing,” she said, turning around to face me. “I’ve seen these houses whenever I drive through town. But I’ve never actually been in one.”
“In that case, I’m pleased to welcome you,” I announced, heading to the bar and glancing around for something appropriate to drink. “A little red?”
She glanced down at my hand again, the sight of blood on my skin snapping her away from the subject of my home. “Speaking of red,” she said. “Where’s a medical kit?”
“It’s fine. No medical kit necessary.”
“Duncan, some strange man broke your skin with his tooth. It’s not fine.”
“Every bathroom has one. Nearest is just over there. Kit should be under the sink.”
Annie nodded and hurried off, returning moments later with a red-and-white medical kit. “Come here,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen bar and opening the kit. She began poking around, looking for the right gear. “Let’s see…God, this isn’t just some regular med kit – this is heavy-duty stuff.”
“Doctors don’t mess around,” I said with a chuckle. “Here...”
I plucked the necessary stuff out. The cut was nothing to worry about – just a scratch, really. But some antiseptic wouldn’t hurt.
“Okay,” she said, getting it all ready. “Now, this might sting a little.”
She dabbed a cotton ball with the antiseptic and placed it on my cut. It stung, but not enough to get a reaction. She clean the cut with an alcohol swab, then applied ointment and a Band-Aid.
I grinned. “Want a job? Got a few clinics opening.”
She let out a laugh, playfully swatting my arm. “Smartass. But thanks for what you did. It was stupid, but brave.”
“Stupid and brave is what I do best.”
Her hand on mine, she gazed into my eyes for several long moments, the heat building between us.
“A drink,” I said, getting up. “Don’t want to pat myself on the back, but I think I’ve earned one.”
“I’ll say.”
I picked out a bottle of cab and, before opening it, nodded toward the iPad on the coffee table. “I pick out the wine, you pick out the music. How does that sound?”
“Oh,” she said, sounding a touch surprised. “What do you want to hear?”
“I want to hear whatever you want to hear,” I said. “Whatever’s on your mind right now.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts and gave me a sly smile. “What if what’s on my mind is, say, Norwegian Death Metal?”
I laughed as I poured the wine, almost spilling a bit on the bar. Smart and beautiful and funny. What more could a man want?
“If that’s what you’re into, then go for it,” I said with a wink. “Not like you’d be bothering the neighbors.”
She picked up the iPad and considered the idea for a long moment. Then she turned and looked out the window, watching as shimmering flakes of snow fell from the sky.
“Ah,” she murmured after several minutes of searching. “I’ve got it.”
Music flowed from the surround-sound speakers. The music was wonderful, a delicate classical piece that sounded a touch familiar.
“What’s this?” I asked, approaching her with the wine and handing her a glass.
“Vivaldi’s Seasons. This one’s Winter, of course. One of the best. And I thought it was appropriate.”