Hidden Away (KGI #3)(20)

“I stocked up on groceries after I got here. I think I wiped out most of the meat from the market. Why don’t I head over, get all the fixings then come back and grill us a steak. You like beer? I have a good stock of that.”

She was surprised by his offer and equally unsure of what to say. She frowned and then pressed her lips together. She glanced down the beach at his house then back to him as she battled her indecision.

“Thought it might be good to have company until you’ve settled down from your fright. It’ll make your cottage less scary.”

“Yes,” she murmured. She took a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you. A steak sounds nice.”

He smiled, and careful not to crowd into her space, he descended the steps and started for his cottage. When he reached the beach, he turned to find her watching him.

“Give me just a few minutes and I’ll be back. You can wait out here for me if you prefer not to go in alone.”

A smile crept over her mouth, lifting the corners until he saw the flash of her teeth. “Thank you.”

CHAPTER 7

SARAH eased her bag onto the steps and then rubbed her hands up and down her arms to ward off the chill. The sun beat down on her but she still felt cold on the inside. She watched as Garrett sauntered down the beach, his pace unhurried.

He was a puzzle to her. He seemed so big and intense yet he was laid-back and ... casual. Easygoing. It didn’t compute. He should terrify her, and in some ways he did. And yet the idea of him being in her cottage even for a little while sent waves of relief down her spine.

“He saved you, dumbass,” she muttered. “It’s the rescue syndrome. You feel safe because he saved your ass.”

And now she’d invited him in. To her house. To a place she should feel safe. Idiot.

Her hands shook and nausea rose, sharp and overwhelming. She looked at the door to her cottage and then back down the beach where Garrett had disappeared. Then making a decision, she hurried up the steps, ducked into the cottage and closed the door behind her. She leaned heavily on it, her heart slamming against her chest like a fist.

She pried open one eye to see Patches on the couch watching her as she bathed a paw. Sarah walked over to the couch and collapsed beside the cat. Her bag hit the floor with a thump and she sat there, head turned up so she stared at the ceiling.

“I’m a mess, kitty. One big ball of mess. I can’t live like this.”

Tears pricked her eyelids and she blinked, refusing to let even one fall. The time for crying was over. It didn’t do anything other than bring back the feeling of abject helplessness.

The knock on the door startled her. She shook her head at her idiocy. It was just Garrett. Garrett, who she was supposed to have waited for on the porch. Garrett, who she’d agreed to have dinner with.

She sat there for a minute, indecision wracking her mind.

“Sarah, it’s me, Garrett. Can you come grab one of these bags?”

The request acted like a slap in the face. She lurched to her feet and hurried over to open the door, forgetting that she planned to hide in the house and ignore him when he came over. Yeah, that was mature.

She swung the door open to see him looming in the doorway, his arms full. She reached for the bag on top, which leaned precariously, and pulled it away. She stepped back but he didn’t make a move to enter. He just looked at her while she fidgeted like a moron.

“Come in,” she invited, stepping back again.

He smiled and walked past her. “Mind if I put these on your table?”

She hurried around him to put her own bag down. “No, go right ahead. Whatever you need. The fridge is over there.” She pointed at the obvious and then felt ridiculous. “Of course it’s there. Hard to miss.”

Garrett plopped the stuff down on the table and then turned to her. His expression was serious but he didn’t make a move toward her. “Relax, Sarah. You don’t have to be nervous. If you aren’t comfortable with me being here, I can go. No problem.”

Was this guy for real? He was so calm and ... unthreatening. Which, God, she needed. She couldn’t do threatening right now. She needed something sturdy. Something to believe in even if just for the space of a dinner.

“I’m losing my mind,” she said in a cracked voice. “I want you to stay. That is, if you still want to.”

“What I want is for you not to be afraid. I want you to feel safe.” He took one step toward her but hesitated as if testing her willingness to let him close. Then he touched her jaw—just a fingertip. But she felt it all the way to her soul. “You’re safe with me, Sarah. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Coming from anyone else, the statement would be melodramatic and corny. But he didn’t so much as blink when he made the declaration. He was dead serious, and the thing was, she totally believed him. She wanted to believe him.

She stood there, not flinching away from his touch. It was ... nice. Comforting on a deeper level she didn’t quite understand. It had been a long time since she’d taken so much pleasure in a man’s touch. Just the simple gesture, the brush of his fingers. It touched something inside her that had been paralyzed with fear for so long.

“Who are you?” she blurted. “Are you real? Or did I conjure you up?”

He looked startled by her question. He cocked his head to the side and then emitted a soft chuckle. “I don’t know about me, but the food’s real.”