Page 46 of (Not) The One
James
I feel morethan hear her acquiesce, that one word just a whisper of sweet breath across my cheek. I take her hand in mine and lead her out of the madness, out of the noise and the heat, and away from the vibrating floor covered in spilled drinks. Then we’re outside, and it’s a little like being deaf for a moment. At least until other sounds begin to register. The low hum of a car rolling by and the faint sound of a curse yelled in the distance. Shrieks of displeasure from a gaggle of drunken girls refused admittance.
‘This way.’ Miranda’s hand still in mine, she follows as I trace my way back to where I’d abandoned the car. Her heels tap against the pavement, my heart keeping time with the noise.
I click the key fob, and the rear lights briefly light the black road.
‘I see you’ve borrowed Batman’s car,’ she murmurs with a small smile.
‘He let me borrow it for the night. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve promised to send him a photo of your underwear in return.’ Her smile deepens as I reach for the door handle to open it for her. ‘He’s an absolute pervert. What do you think the mask is for?’
‘Wait. One minute.’ She inhales deeply, her gaze on the back of her hand where it lies against my chest, her lashes dark half-moons against the cheeks. ‘Heather said you arrived with Beckett earlier.’
‘I wasn’t there for speed dating.’
‘Did she send you after me?’
I nod. ‘She was worried. I think she assumed I wouldn’t mention your behaviour to either Olivia or Beckett.’
‘And was she right?’ she asks carefully. Her teeth begin to worry at her bottom lip as though she’s trying to restrain herself from speaking.
‘She was,’ I reply softly as I use my thumb to release her bottom lip.
‘Poor Heather.’ Her answer is expelled on a relieved-sounding sigh.
‘She’s a good friend.’
‘She’s more than a friend. She’s family.’
‘Good friendships feel like that sometimes, don’t they?’
‘No, I mean she really is family. She’s my cousin.’
‘I’m pleased you have someone who cares for you. But you should know I didn’t follow you for her.’ Her gaze is full of uncertainty before it skitters away. ‘I needed to know you were okay.’
‘Please don’t ask me why I’m like this,’ she whispers.
‘It’s your business.’ For now, at least.
She’s clearly no longer drunk, but that’s not why I followed her. I’m not some white knight on a gleaming charger. I’m just a man interested in an intriguing girl.
‘How do you know Beckett?’ Her tone is deliberately even, but I hear the caution anyway.
‘We’ve been friends for years. We met at university. Why do you ask?’
Her expression firms quite suddenly, even if she isn’t looking at me. ‘Because I work for his wife. I can’t have any complications. While I might look like a fuckup who is coming apart at the seams, I’m bloody good at my job, and I’d like to keep it.’
‘Miranda.’ I hook a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at me. ‘We all have bad days. I’m the last person on earth who’d judge you.’
‘You seemed plenty judgey earlier on.’
‘I think you’ll find you weren’t exactly wonderful company yourself.’
‘Point taken.’ Her gaze dips from mine for a beat, her next words almost a dare. ‘I thought you were being horrible because I slept with you. I mean, I don’t even know you.’
‘What kind of arse would I be to criticise you for something I’d like to repeat?’ As she releases a breath, I add, ‘I find I can’t, however, be so kind when it comes to the fact you got stuck in a dog door.’
‘It could’ve happened to anyone,’ she says, struggling to repress her smile.
