Page 51 of Porter's Angel
Was someone letting off early fireworks, or was his pulse exploding out of his ears?
He tipped forward, pressing her against the brightly painted door. Smirking slightly at his stumble, he steadied himself and studied her face. Man! Who was sweeping who off their feet? What a clumsy charmer he was turning out to be.
Their unruly activity had brightened her cheeks. Her brown eyes sparkled, with absolutely no hint of her earlier sadness. Seeing the crease of happiness against her cheek, he touched that with another kiss and found her lips again with his heart slopping all over the place. Might as well finish what he started. He wasn’t sorry, not one little bit. Funches couldn’t accuse him of chickening out this time. No, Porter had completely lost his mind.
Angel was the first to break away, though she still kept a firm grip on his fingers. She stepped to the side of that wretched door. “Porter!” She was out of breath. He couldn’t be more proud… though maybe a niggling whisper of sanity began to rip through his stomach the further out of reach she became. “Nowit’s the best day ever,” she said.
“Don’t go yet,” he said. “Are you sure… are you absolutely sure it’s safe for you to stay up there at Emily’s, because I can just take you home now.”
She laughed, but she knew better than to console him with a kiss on the cheek. They both knew where that would go. “I promise, I’m fine.” Her brows shot up with mischief. “You weren’t just kissing me to soften me up, were you, drag me home to Lily and make me your personal gardener?”
That would’ve been a great idea, but no. He’d lost his brain back at Funches’s. And now as he started to collect pieces of it, like pool noodles caught in the storm after a swim, he began to remember why he was supposed to wait to kiss her.
“I’ve never really had someone worry about me… like you do,” she said.
He groaned inwardly. The story of how she’d been a foster child caught up in the system still tore at him. He never wanted her to feel alone again. “Come here.” He hugged her this time, resting his arm behind her neck to keep her nice and close.
“You know what?” she breathed into his throat. “I’m not afraid to trust you anymore.”
He’d made another mistake, hadn’t he?
She stepped back, touching his arm before she peeled open that yellow door and disappeared inside. This time when she left, there was a smile on her lips and a frown on his.
What had he done?
It was bad enough that he was lying to her, but to kiss her when she didn’t even know how much he’d tricked her? At the same time, he wouldn’t take that kiss back for the world!
And yet, he was pretty sure that he’d been worse to her than Nash.
Inching backwards in his retreat, he stared up at her window on the third flight. In a few moments, the light went on. She was safe. He stuffed his hands into his pockets to stop them from gathering pebbles and throwing them at her window to get her to push her head out, so he could see her again. He’d turned greedy for any glimpse of her.
He left for his pickup, kicking himself the whole way. He was such a coward, and she was–she was breathtaking. He’d held back because something in his gut told him that she needed time… for the truthandfor the… kisses. He sure ignored that, but there was a reason to wait. She’d said it herself!
Ugh. Justifying staying quiet was just his fear talking. If she knew, she wouldn’t have let him off the hook. He was terrified of losing her. She was the real deal—patient, deep, sweet, soulful, fun-loving. He’d set out to make her fall for him today and it had worked the other way around.
Now there were so many possible misunderstandings that could get in the way of a really good thing. He never wanted to be “that guy.” He was dying here!
Was it really possible to fall for someone so fast? It didn’t matter, he had.
He climbed into the driver’s seat and peeled out of downtown, driving too fast on these roads, but needing something to clear his head. Angel had been so stand-offish earlier, almost morose, and somehow that mood had transferred to him through their kiss.
What did Nash know about Angel that he didn’t? His phone was set in a holder on the dashboard and he tried to call his brother a few times, but no dice. Nash was off doing who knew what!
Sleeping? It was past midnight. No, never. Nash didn’t sleep unless he was sleeping in.
Porter took the fork from Main to get home. The smooth pavement quickly dissolved into dirt roads where he took off even faster. The speed did nothing to make him feel better. Porter only felt like he was getting further away from Angel, not his conscience. That stayed with him nice and close.
Porter tried to call his twin again and this time, he left a message. “Hey, you big idiot, I need to talk. Call me.”
He hung up, torn between leaving Angel alone to sleep and possibly dream about their kisses or turning back to come clean and beg her forgiveness. Who knew which one would help his cause to win her most? Porter could very well be clearing his name from whatever vile thing that Nash had done to her by admitting his own sins… and then he could get to the bottom of what was really bothering her.
To come here with only the clothes that she was wearing? She kept talking about Lacy, an old boyfriend by the sounds of things… and a cheat. How anyone could throw her away, he’d never know, but some guys thought that they could have it all.
Had Lacy turned violent when she broke things off? His hands clenched over the steering wheel.
The night had taken a turn when Funches had mentioned WhiteBoulder. Yeah, Porter had no idea what that meant, but he’d find out soon. His gut wasn’t turning in on itself for nothing. She was in trouble, and it had to do with that guy.
Well, that would be easy enough to take care of. He’d send the sissy Lacy scrambling back to the city the second he showed up here… his name was Lacy, for crying out loud. He sounded like a man who used his hands for signing documents, not fighting.