Sparks

Chapter 2

Dedicated to @ardently for the amazing cover!

The timer told him he had 17 minutes and 21 seconds left. 17 long minutes until he would be forced to drag his butt to his bedroom and wake the tender woman who had passed out in his bed. He had watched her for such a long time as she fought off drowsiness. And when she couldn't fight any longer and was lost to the world he continued to watch her.

He watched her shake from the cold, until he felt compelled to cover her with the blankets. He watched her tremble with fear until she kicked them from her body. And he watched as she screamed and cried out from a nightmare. When she had finally settled into a quiet slumber, he left her and went to the kitchen where he could think over a warm cup of coffee.

Not that that did anything but give him a migraine. The coffee had cooled many hours ago but he still hadn't decided what he should do, or how he should handle this entire situation. He was a man with a plan. Well, he liked to be. Sometimes that didn't work out in his favor. This moment for instance, he didn't have a clue as to where to go next and that frustrated him to no end.

But watching her sleep proved that he couldn't just kick her to the curb. Well that and the fact that the more she moved in her sleep, the more bruises she revealed to him. Very few of them were new, but that didn't change anything. She was abused. That fact put him in a crossfire of emotions.

Sure, he had offered his home to her. But he refused to be any woman's superhero. He was not in any position to heal anybody. He would not be her bodyguard or get her back on her feet. He was simply too nice of a man to allow her to sleep in the rain. But that was as far as his kindness extended.

However, the other part of him told him he simply couldn't say goodbye. She was hurt and obviously in serious danger. She needed someone, even though he knew he was in no position to offer her anything, this silly part of him wanted to do whatever it took. Why, he couldn't quite understand.

The clock on the stove was counting down the minutes until he would awaken her. He wasn't sure what he would do when she was awake. Kick her out? Let her stay? Offer her protection? He shook his head, staring into the black coffee. He would not allow her to get close to him. He didn't get close to anyone, especially a woman in a bad situation. That only led to trouble. And as far as he was concerned, he lived a trouble-free life. Of course, the old hag down the street, who thought she knew everything, begged to differ.

"When will you settle down, Romelius? You gonna play until you die?" The old woman had called from her porch, one humid day. She had a way of getting under his skin, but he never let it show.

"I will live my life the way I want to, Ms. Ginger. If I like my women fresh, then that's my business," he sneered back as he continued by her.

Ms. Ginger just laughed after him, calling out rude comments and disgracing sentences. She didn't understand though. Perhaps if she knew, she wouldn't be so rude. But she would never know and that's the way he liked it. He would never settle down. Not after what had happened.

The timer beeped at him, pulling him from his thoughts and telling him it was time to get up. He hoped that she was already awake. That she could hear the timer in the bedroom and would get up on her own. Waking her would be awkward and would startle her, no doubt.

He sighed, pushing away from the table. His chair squeaked against the kitchen tiles. He carried his cup to the sink, looking at the picture in the window for a second longer than he should have. Big blue eyes, pixie-short blond hair, and a gorgeous smile looked back at him. His heart nearly stopped. He knew better than to look that way. He also knew that he could move the picture and save himself from the pain. But every time he went to do it, he couldn't. Sighing again and running a hand through his dark hair, he turned around.

Leaving the kitchen/dining room, he turned to the right and headed down the hall. The bathroom door was still wide open, the night light flickering as sunshine started to spill into the room. He hadn't slept a wink. He felt exhausted but his body wouldn't shut down. That being said, his feet felt heavy.

Dragging them across the floor, he came to a stop outside the bedroom. He had shut the door as an act of privacy for her. No noises came from inside and he had a startling feeling that when he opened the door he would find her dead. He knew he shouldn't think like that, but the thought wouldn't leave.

He tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open. She was asleep, but not peacefully. Thrashing underneath the covers, that she must have pulled back up, she shrieked. The sound caused him to wince and watch as she shook in the bed. She cried out again, rolling close to the edge.

He moved quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her roughly. "Hey! Wake up, Lady! It's just a nightmare. Wake. Up." He shook her again until her eyes fluttered open. Taking him by such surprise that he let her go. She flopped against the pillows but her eyes remained open. Bloodshot and weary, but open.

"I need something to drink," she whispered.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Follow me." He stepped away from the bed, watching as she untangled herself from the comforter. Her long legs caught his attention and he found that he couldn't look away. Her torn jeans stuck to her legs, showing her lean muscles. A runner, he decided after staring long enough. He had always been a leg kind of man.

She coughed, bringing his eyes back up to her face. Her bruised but blushing face. She knew better than to encourage any attention from any man, but she felt awkward pointing out, to the man who offered her shelter, that he was staring in an uncomfortable manner.

Without saying anything, he turned and left the room. His long legs, much longer than hers, carried his body down the hall and back into the kitchen. She trailed, slumping into a chair at the table while he got her a glass of water.

He set it in front of her and watched as she guzzled it quickly down her throat. A river of the liquid ran down her chin and dropped seductively onto her sweatshirt. His Adam's apple bobbed as he found himself imagining ludicrous things. To stop himself from going too far he said, "So, what did you dream about?"

Obviously it was the wrong thing to say.