Deceived by Julie Anne Lindsey Page B

stay beside him.
    A Jeep sat cocked at an angle on the cement outside the doors. Parking spots must’ve been too inconvenient.
    “What happened to your motorcycle?” I was relieved not to be getting on it. Somehow I was certain that if I lifted one thigh toward it, my dad would materialize for a lecture on vehicle safety. Better to start my year of adventure with a seat belt.
    Brian held the door for me. My last chance to decide. Was he dangerous? I stepped inside, arranging my bag at my feet before Brian shut the door behind me. Leaving with him felt wrong, risky, but walking home alone was impossible after reading all those awful newspaper articles. I glanced back toward the library one last time. A dark silhouette stood in the shadow of the building. I hoped it was just someone waiting for a friend. Brian slid in behind the wheel and I jumped. I was pretty sure he was dangerous. Something else told me I was in good hands.
    The Jeep’s interior was gray leather. The fragrance of cinnamon and vanilla was strong, a fragrance I could pick out anywhere. A steaming latte sat in the cup holder on the passenger’s side.
    “I thought if I ran into you, you’d be in the mood for coffee.” He looked years younger as he spoke.
    I smiled. He had come looking for me.
    He rolled his eyes and turned to face the windshield. “I couldn’t bring you coffee on the bike. Besides, the Jeep is safer.”
    I snapped my seat belt into place and bit the inside of both cheeks. Faint memories of the plain black coffee Davis had brought made the gesture sweeter. I’d ordered coffee one time in Brian’s presence, and he had remembered.
    The night was beautiful. It made small-town living seem nicer. The sky was clear. Deer grazed in pastures along the dark county roads. The trees showed the first signs of their fall apparel. I loved autumn in full swing. My heart fluttered. Images of swooning ladies a hundred years back crossed my mind. I understood. I couldn’t speak, or breathe. Or think.
    I snuck peeks at Brian as we drove. He caught me every time. On the one hand, I was completely embarrassed, but on the other … he was looking at me, too. I raked at my hair with my fingers. Silence with him felt heavy on my lungs. Too many secrets. Too much unsaid. I wanted to ask a hundred questions, but I had no idea what to say. I sipped the fresh coffee to keep my mouth busy.
    “How did you remember what I drink?” I licked a drop from my bottom lip. I wasn’t even sure Pixie would know without asking.
    “I pay attention.” His eyes dropped to my lips and his mouth twitched at the side.
    “Astute.” That’s what he’d called me.
    “Is there anything you want to talk about? We’re finally alone. I thought we could drive for a few minutes. We can be candid, if you like.” His dimple disappeared, and he looked troubled. It seemed he wanted to talk about something. Well, he wanted me to talk, but he had all the information. Shampoo mingled with the scent of new leather seats to fill the space inside the car. Cologne swirled with the cinnamon and vanilla in the air, confusing me. Anywhere I looked gave me pause. He was everywhere. Hands large enough to palm a basketball stretched around the lucky steering wheel. His knee flopped into the gearshift. An elbow rested dangerously close to mine, heat radiating from it, invading my space. Permeating my brain.
    I took a deep breath. “My life is an open book. Yours is … ”
    “Not.”
    I supposed that meant I shouldn’t ask, but if not, then what? All my questions were about him.
    Too soon he angled his Jeep onto the curb outside my building. He had never asked where I lived. My muscles tensed as I thought of the car and the squeaky belt and the cigarette butts. I flipped open his ashtray and he looked at me with furrowed brows. The tray held loose coins and a pack of gum. I shut it and look at the floorboards.
    “Thanks.” I lifted the cup into the air and tilted my head toward my