Accidental Knight: A Marriage Mistake Romance(116)

“Holy –” I slam on the brakes at the same horrible instant I realize it’s a kid, wrenching the wheel to keep from hitting them.

The van bounces like it's about to burst apart as it scales the curb before jolting to a stop.

Oh, God. My hands are shaking and my heart pounds up my throat as I look through the windshield, eye to eye at the boy standing mere inches in front of the bumper.

Thanking God all the while he is still standing!

“Hey, are you all right?” I ask, throwing open the door and jumping out.

“I-I d-didn’t see you. Sorry, miss.”

He’s clearly shaken.

So am I. I could have hit him. Flattened him.

“How'd you miss it?” I ask, pointing a thumb at the van. “It’s red! A huge red blob!”

Just like you could've been! I think to myself, shaking my head.

Sighing, I step forward and flip the black hood off his head to get a good look at him. He’s a good-looking kid. Young. Early teens, maybe.

I want to grab him, shake him, but that’s because I’m so upset. He is, too, so I try to pull myself together.

Take a deep breath. My nerves are literally shot. Breathing doesn’t help one iota.

His eyes are cast down at the pavement.

I glance in the same direction. Notice how one end of his skateboard is crunched under the van’s driver's side tire. The other end caught behind the bumper.

A sense of relief washes over me that it's only his skateboard.

“That could've been you,” I say, shaking in my boots all over again.

God, that was too close. This is all too close for comfort.

He nods and bites down on his quivering bottom lip. “I'm really sorry.”

I should let him go. We all make dumb mistakes when we're young, right? But something holds me back.

Feeling like I need to drill down how easily this could've been a whole lot worse, I ask, “What were you doing? Where were you going so fast that you couldn’t even see me?”

He glances around, as if looking for a place to flee.

Then I see more. Like the shallow, anxious guilt curdling his young face.

I know what I’m looking at. I also see the hands shoved in his coat pockets, fidgeting, far too much for just the cold. “Show me your hands.”

His eyes widen, and he looks around again.

I know what this is before he even moves.

Years working downtown in a business that's had more than one kid snitch something off the counter tells me. It also turns my terror at almost hitting him into anger.

“C'mon, kiddo. Hands. Now!”

Slowly, he takes a hand out of his pocket, holding something out.

I snatch the case he’s holding and flip it over. “A game? You almost got yourself flattened, killed, for a freaking video game?!”

Now, it's making sense. There’s a game shop up the road.

He probably stole it and was so focused on getting away that he couldn't see anything. An adorably annoying little rat, and a desperate one.

“A used twenty-dollar game, too.” I mutter, handing it back to him. “An old one from a series that's been around since I was a kid.” It’s based off a movie about robbing cars, and that makes me add, “Don't tell me this is practice. Thinking of upping your game? Learning how to steal cars instead of games?”

“No. I-I’ve never done anything like this before.” He shoves the game back in his pocket. “I don’t know why I took it. Really. I just...I wanted...”

Before I can blink, he goes stock-still. His face loses color. “Oh, no. Here he comes.”

I glance over my shoulder. A big black SUV is slowing down. The vehicle looks like an FBI rig, complete with tinted windows.

It’s not really the FBI or even the police, but this kid knows whoever's in that vehicle, and he's even more scared than before. “Who’s that?”

“My dad,” he answers, voice quivering.

Great. I’ve run into this before. I'll never deliver my cake on time without hearing the end of it.

Not when daddy dearest is probably one of those parents who think it’s the store’s fault for leaving things sitting out for their kids to steal.

It’s a store. Things are displayed for people to see them. Not steal them. But some people just don't get it. Don't want to get it. Especially when it comes to their precious kids.

“Please, lady, have a heart...he’s gonna be mad. Like, really mad.”

There's that hangdog my whole world just ended look on his skinny face again. Flustered at the empathy that rises up inside me, I roll my eyes and ask. “We'll see. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Ben.”

It's all he gets out before jumping at the sound of a car door slamming shut.

My insides jolt a bit at the sound, too. Drawing in a deep breath of Minnesota cold, I turn around and damn near choke. Not on the icy air, but the sight of the beast-man walking toward us.

Not beast as in jungle.

Beast as in built. Manly perfection. All muscles, five o'clock shadow, body halfway to the sky, and shoulders wide enough to give the horizon itself a good run.

The kind of primal, almost dangerously gorgeous man you see in ads. The ones you know are Photoshopped.

Except...this guy isn’t Photoshopped, and those long, thick legs of his carry his bulk and brawn with a swagger that can’t help but draw attention to the rest of him.