Page 18 of Living with Fire
“Your ride not show up?” A deep voice calls, and I look up to see a silver truck stopped, the man inside leaning over so he can see out the passenger window.
Nate.
Seeing his face makes it hard to keep the dam behind my eyes from breaking wide open, and I suck my bottom lip between my teeth to try to stop it as I shake my head.
“Get in,” he says, and I must look at him like he’s lost his mind because he reaches over and pushes the door open. “Get in the truck, Savanna.”
I have very few options right now, but I don’t know if getting into a vehicle with a virtual stranger is the best idea. Sure, I’ve met his sister now, and I know he’s a firefighter who saved me from being burned alive, but that’s all a lot different than getting into his personal truck to go God knows where, to do God knows what.
Sucking in a deep breath, I glance down the road, considering my alternatives.
Calling either one of my brothers is at the top of that list. But Vincent dances through my vision, and I’m reminded of why I didn’t call them from the hospital in the first place. Protecting them is number one. It’s why I left. Making that phone call home has to be my last resort.
Walking to my apartment is an idea, which will take me a couple of hours I’m guessing, and that’s only if I can figure out how to get there. In the six months I’ve been in Santa Rosé, it’s not like I’ve been to a lot of places and know the lay of the land. I realize now how much of an oversight that was on my part.
Finding the beach and hanging out there is another option; I could camp out there in the sand. It’s still warm enough outside at night that maybe I could sleep there. It’s not really a long-term solution, though.
Or I could just get in the truck with Nate. I could ask him if I’d be able to get into my apartment today or not, and if I can’t, maybe he could drop me off at the beach and save me from figuring it out on my own. Or maybe he’d let me use his cell phone again, and I’d truly make a call I’m dreading.
I think my decision was made before I thought it all through, because I’m on my feet walking towards his truck before realizing that I made the choice to get in with him.
Sliding into his passenger seat, I close the door and grab the seatbelt, taking in my surroundings. There aren’t any weapons visible that look like they’ll harm me, so that’s a plus. Nate doesn’t seem the type that could hurt a fly, though you can never quite be sure about someone. Even when you know them. I have firsthand knowledge when it comes to that.
Vincent never seemed like he could hurt me. Not at first, anyway. He was kind, caring, considerate. When we started dating he would look at me with this warmth in his eyes that made me feel like the only girl on his radar. He would drop everything to pick me up from work, or if I had to stay late, he’d drop off dinner. Flowers came regularly, and coffee showed up even more frequently.
He knew exactly what he was doing to lure me into a false sense of security. I never saw the abuse coming.
“You hungry?” Nate asks, pulling me from my thoughts as he pulls away from the curb.
I turn to look at him, surprised by the question. I want to say no, but it’s been a long time since I last ate, and now that he’s brought it up, my stomach rumbles in protest at not being fed.
I know he hears it when he says with amusement, “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I don’t have any money for food,” I tell him quietly, embarrassment coloring my cheeks. Not that I can help it, and I know he knows that, but that doesn’t make it any better.
“Well, I’m starving and planned on going for breakfast. I’m not about to eat by myself in front of you, so you might as well let me buy you breakfast,” he says, glancing in my direction with a grin. “You ever been to the Windmill Diner?”
“No,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I haven’t really been to many places around town.”
“You’re not from around here, I’m guessing?”
While I don’t make a habit of telling strangers that I’m not from here, I find myself telling Nate before I can think about it. “No. I’ve only been here for six months.”
He stops at a red light and looks over at me, curiosity filling his stunning blue eyes. I’m pretty sure that I could get lost in them if I looked long enough. I’ve never met someone with such an intense, brilliant blue, and he has these amazing eyelashes that frame them, making them stand out even more.
“Where you from?”
“Colorado,” I tell him honestly, again without hesitation.
“Ah,” he says, nodding as if this makes sense. “From the mountains to the ocean.”
I smile, my thoughts drifting to that first time I got to see the ocean. “I’d never seen the ocean before I moved here.”
“It boggles my brain when people tell me that,” he says with a laugh. “I’ve been in Santa Rosé my entire life, so I can’t imagine not being near the ocean.”
“I can’t imagine it anymore,” I respond with a content sigh. “I haven’t been able to stay away from it all summer. There’s so much to see, and it’s as relaxing as the mountains used to make me feel. The beach has been my second home.”
“Hence why you haven’t gotten to know all the other local amenities,” he teases, and I can’t help but laugh. “There’s a lot more to Santa Rosé than the beach, you know.”