Page 4 of Beautiful Killer

Something inside me expanded until it almost hurt.

I’d take a wild guess and say Sunshine preferred to do everything herself. She didn’t like to ask for help. A woman like her wouldn’t be alone. How could she be? She’d have family, friends, a man. If she needed help, there’d be people she could ask. But she didn’t. Why?

Finally, she stood and walked quickly to the other side of the room and took a seat at one of the empty tables. I finished my drink and ordered a beer. I needed to leave, but for some reason I couldn’t make myself get up and go. I also couldn’t stop looking at her every so often over the next hour. She stayed alone during that time, but her eyes darted to the door whenever it opened, like she was expecting someone. Several guys approached her, but she sent them on their way.

Surely she hadn’t been stood up?

Who the fuck would stand her up? What kind of an idiot would miss the chance to spend time with her?

I forced myself to turn away and took a sip of my beer, but it didn’t last long, and I was looking back at her table a short time later.

This time, though, the table was empty. She was gone.

The sudden urge to jump out of my seat and rush out of the bar after her, to follow her, make sure she got home safe, hit me unexpectedly.

What the hell was wrong with me? I kept my ass glued to my seat even as my thigh muscles bunched preparing to propel me across the room and out the door . . .

The stool beside me creaked, followed by a wave of vanilla. I knew who was sitting beside me instantly. And shit, I was right, she smelled amazing.

The stool creaked again. “Um . . . hi, I’m Sunny.”

Her voice was soft, had a little bit of a rasp to it that sent tingles across my shoulders and over my scalp. I turned in my seat, my gaze sliding to the woman who now sat beside me. I glanced around us. She couldn’t be talking to me. Why the hell would she? But she was. Her eyes didn’t dart away this time, they widened slightly, but they stayed on me.

I stared back.

A blush crawled up her cheeks and a smile curled her full lips. “This is the part where you tell me your name.”

What the hell was this?

Her smile started to slip. “Do you . . .” She aimed her thumb to the exit. “Should I go?”

I shook my head, before I could stop myself. I didn’t want her to go any-fucking-where.

Sunny.

Shit, of course that was her name.

Her smile came back. She wasn’t looking at me anymore, but I could see the curve of her lips as she ordered another glass of wine.

I’d never seen anyone like her in my life.

She turned in her seat when she had her drink and crossed her legs, resting an elbow on the bar, those violet eyes back to me. “Well, that’s the last time I agree to a blind date.” She laughed and shook her head and more of her vanilla scent hit me as her hair slid over her shoulders. “Why do I do these things to myself?”

Jesus. Her laugh was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard. I shook my head. I didn’t get why the hell she’d need to?

“Gloria, one of my ladies at the Ashwood Retirement Home . . .” She waved her hand in the air—like I’d asked a question, when in actual fact I was sitting there like a dumb fuck, with my mouth glued shut—before she carried on, “I go in Monday afternoons and teach arts and crafts . . . anyway, Gloria set me up with her grandson. Apparently, he’s an artist and she thought we’d get on. I guess he didn’t agree.” She took a sip of her wine. “Whatever, right?”

I nodded. It was all I was capable of.

“You never told me your name?”

“Zeke,” I said.

She smiled at that, knocking the wind from my lungs.

We carried on talking for a little while, her mainly, but I actually managed a couple short and thankfully coherent sentences.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her, which meant I noticed a short time later when her hands started to tremble slightly that she’d gone quiet. Her gorgeous eyes were taking me in as well, moving over me, and her breathing had grown faster.