Page 137 of Ride With Me
It takes a while for me to find my voice, and when I do, I croak.
“Could I have a drink?”
His eyes widen, and he scowls slightly, but I don’t think it’s at me.
“Yes, of course. Sorry, I should have thought of that.”
He goes to a small kitchen area and I glance around the cabin. There’s not much, except a large bed, a drawer unit and closet, a couple of chairs, and a small table. To one side is a kitchen area, and across the room is a door, which I assume is a bathroom.
Victor holds a glass of water and I take it, downing it in one go. When I hand it back, he gives an approving nod.
“Do you need any more?”
I shake my head, and he takes the glass away.
“What’s your name, cutie?”
I like him calling me cutie, but I answer, “It’s Jamie.”
“You don’t live here, right?” I ask him. It certainly doesn’t look like anyone would live here.
“No,” Victor chuckles. “I’ve just been renting it for the week. I live in London.”
“Me too.”
“What are you doing out here, hitchhiking?”
At the memory of last night, the tears spill over again and sobs wrack through me. The bed dips a second before strong arms encircle me. I lean into the warm embrace; it feels safe and comforting. He doesn’t speak, but gently strokes my back.
When the sobs subside and my tears dry, I push back, and immediately he relaxes his hold, but doesn’t release me completely.
“I’m sorry. I seem to have snotted all over your shirt.” I point to a damp patch on his chest.
“It’s fine,” he huffs. “How are you feeling?”
I sigh. “Better, thank you. I’m sorry you seem to have landed with me. I can go now.” I glance around. I don’t want to leave, and I don’t have anywhere to go, but I feel bad taking up any more of this stranger’s time. This handsome, strong, kind stranger.
“It’s fine.” He pushes away a lock of hair that’s stuck to my forehead and smiles. “Now then, cutie, what’s your story?”
I must look a sight, with bloodshot eyes and a snotty nose, and he called me cutie. He must need his eyes tested.
I drop my eyes. I don’t want to admit my embarrassment about what happened with Aiden. I give him the shortened version.
“It was a date weekend gone wrong, so I left, but I didn’t get the chance to pick up my bag or my wallet. Then my phone died.”
His face looks menacing when I tell my story, but somehow I don’t think it’s directed at me, so I carry on. “If I could charge my phone, I can get my train tickets up and get home...”
“Sure, we can charge it for you to go home, but you said London, right? If you want, I can drive you back tomorrow. If you don’t mind staying.”
I look round the cabin, at the one bed. Oh. But then he doesn’t feel at all like Aiden. I imagine if I ask him to sleep in the chair, he probably would. Would I want that? I guess we could share. I’m getting ahead of myself. Who would want a sorry sight like me to stay?
“Don’t decide now,” Victor says, and I realise I haven’t answered him.
“I don’t want to put you through any trouble.” I cling to the hope he’ll say it’s alright and my tension eases when he says it will be.
“First though, we have to go back to the training centre.”
“What training centre?”