Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories (The Flirts! Collection) by Lisa Scott

The ceramic studio where I’d once brought my niece, Lucy, was here, along with an optician’s office, the oil change shop and a few empty storefronts. There were a couple of bars a block or two over. That must’ve been where my attacker had come from.
    A police officer caught up to me as I hurried across the plaza. He asked a few more questions as I slipped the book in the drop box. Being the busy-body aunt that I was, I’d volunteered to redecorate Lucy’s bedroom and the wallpaper sample book was a week overdue.
    Knew we should have gone with paint instead .
    As we headed back toward Tony and the other cops, the officer stopped me. “Listen, I know that guy helped you out, but you don’t want to hang around him.”
    “Why not?”
    “He’s got an arrest record, and he’s no stranger to fights. Just say your thanks and stay away.”
    But this news didn’t really change my feelings. This guy had leapt off a roof to help me and gotten hurt in the process. Who knows if I would’ve gotten the chance—and the courage—to fight back if he hadn’t intervened? But I figured it was best to humor the cop. “Okay, thanks for the heads-up.”
    The officers took our statements and then cleared the scene, while Tony and I stood in the empty parking lot. The day was moments from going dark, and the lights in the parking lot had flickered on. “Does it hurt?” My fingers hovered over the gash on his forehead.
    He shook his head. “It’ll probably hurt tomorrow.”
    His goatee tickled my arm and I pulled back. “So, you really jumped off that roof?” It was only one story, but still.
    “I hung off the side and then pushed off the wall. I didn’t realize you were about to kick his ass or I would’ve kept working.” He grinned, showing off perfectly straight, white teeth.
    Something was off about this guy, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. His rough appearance was hiding something beneath. I reached for his arm and brushed off some gravel.
    Scratches marked his back and a few tiny stones were stuck in his skin. I set one hand on his shoulder, and used the other to pluck out the little rocks. “They didn’t break the skin. Just a few dents.” His skin was hot under my fingertips. “Turn around.”
    He did as I told him without complaint. My fingers grazed his skin, searching for bumps and bruises. My fingers glided over the muscles on his chest and stomach. I sucked in a breath when I saw the backside of his left arm. “You’ve got a really bad scrape. I think the cop was right—you should go to the hospital. That gash on the side of your forehead looks bad, too.” I pulled back, and my hands felt warm from the heat of his skin.
    He reached up to feel the wound, and then looked at the tips of his fingers, dappled with spots of dark red. “Nah, the bleeding is tapering off already. I’m fine. You okay?”
    I nodded. “If you’re not going to let me take you to the hospital, can I at least take you out for a beer? I could use one myself after that.” I was feeling a bit shaky now.
    He cocked his head. “That cop didn’t warn you off?”
    Damn it, I was blushing. “I’m a big girl. I can be my own judge of character.”
    He stared at me. “I have a feeling you’re going to pester me until I let you show some sort of thanks.”
    I nodded. “I am. Smart man.”
    He laughed. “Not exactly. Let me pack up my stuff and we’ll grab a drink.”
    He loaded some tools in his pickup truck, pulled on a clean shirt, and told me to meet him at a bar on Main Street. “This isn’t the best neighborhood for someone like you at night.” He opened his door, and his dog jumped in.
    I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m sorry, you didn’t see me disarm that guy?”
    “You might run into someone with a bigger knife and a worse temper next time. A girl like you can’t take any chances.”
    I raised an eyebrow. “A girl like me?”
    Walking back to me, his gaze swept from my head to my toes. “Beautiful.