I’d forgotten how it was to feel like this.Alive.Failing in a way that only had the consequences of scrapes and bruises.
I pulled my headphones out of my ears and sat back on my heels, wiping my grassy hands on my jeans. My longboard was a ways down, stopped by a curb. A grunt and a muttered curse reminded me that I wasn’t alone, and my gaze snapped to my right, zeroing in on the guy I’d almost plowed into.
He’d apparently fallen when I had, despite my efforts to save him from it, and was doing his damnedest to get back up.
“Hold on!” he yelled, looking my way with wide, panicked eyes. He got his uninjured foot under him—one of his ankles was wrapped in purple medical bandage—and by sheer determination got back to his feet. Or… foot. He cursed under his breath as he took a hobbling step in my direction. “Lordy.Don’t move. You could have more injuries than you realize.”
A disbelieving laugh escaped my lips. He was trying to come over and helpme, which was ridiculous given his condition.
He let out a frustrated noise as he muttered to himself, squinting as he searched the road around him for something.
That’s when I saw his crutch, closer to me than him and definitely out of his reach. I was on my feet in a flash and across the road before I’d made the conscious decision to move, my heart still hammering as I scooped up his crutch.
The stranger’s wavy, dark-brown hair fell into his face, masking his features as he tried to take another step toward me. I hurried to him and jammed the crutch under his armpit. He grabbed the handle instinctively, bracing himself before he pushed his hair back and off his face.
A stubbled square jaw. Hazel eyes. Full lips pulled tight into a grimace.
With the help of the crutch, he drew himself up to his full height, and damn if he wasn’t imposing. His baggy clothes—a faded blue flannel on top of a T-shirt—couldn’t quite hide his broad chest, and nothing could diminish his height. I tipped my head back as I took him in. He was taller than my five foot five by nearly a foot.
“Lordy, ma’am, I am so sorry,” he said, his voice deep and somehow sweet too. His eyes met mine, but they seemed a little unfocused, like he wasn’t really seeing me. “I have my kit in my car. Please let me look you over.”
The clouds shifted, and the sun blazed onto us, sending a stream of light into his eyes. He huffed in annoyance and ran a hand down his face, making his stubble rasp, then tugged his oversized shirt away from his body. Before I could theorize on why he was dressed like that, my phone beeped from my back pocket, where it’d ridden out my crash without issue.
“Ma’am?” He took a short step closer to me, his big hand trying—and failing—to block out the sun. “I didn’t see how or where you fell, but it seemed—ugh.” He huffed again and used his crutch to hobble this way and that, away from the stream of sunlight, but it just kept coming at him no matter where he went.
“No worries,” I said, my voice a little rough as I tried to hold back my laugh. I definitely wasn’t going to distress this guy any further by mentioning my scraped knees. “Especially since, you know… I’m the one who made you fall first. Sorry about that.”
I was just about to flee the scene and hurry to my longboard, but then he laughed. The sound was so unexpectedly rich and husky, sofree, his lips pulling into a huge smile, showing his teeth. My gaze snagged on the sharp tip of one of his canines, and the sun at my back turned from warming to too hot, beads of sweat forming on my neck.
Adrenaline.
That’s what it was.
It was the adrenaline leaving my body.
My lips parted to say… something? I wasn’t sure what, but it was interrupted by a second warning beep from my phone.
I shrugged apologetically and mumbled something that hopefully also sounded apologetic and left the stranger with the deep laugh and baggy clothes behind and power walked to my board.
I literally did not have the time for more.
After righting my board with my foot, I kicked off down the street.
The urge to look back over my shoulder before I made the next turn prickled against the cooling sweat at my neck, but I ignored it.
There really wasn’t any time.
“Ireland.” Arizona Thames sighed my name as she hugged me. “Thank you so much for meeting me.”
“Mrs. Thames,” I greeted, patting the older woman on the back.
“Just Ari will do, dear.”
She’d asked me to meet her in a green space at theheart of Live Oak that I’d never given a second thought to, but apparently Arizona—Ari— had given itquitea lot of thought.
“Accessible greenhouses,” she said, flicking her hand over the space. “Imagine it with me, dear. Low tables, wide aisles. I got the idea from my brother.”
“Oh?” I asked, still not quite sure what I was doing here.
