Stalker by Lena Little

2

Sophia

“That figures,” I huff, slapping my hand on the steering wheel and popping the hood to my car. She’s a beater for sure, and considering my barely street legal car is as old as my eighteen years, there’s not a lot I can really come to expect of her…which is why I usually take the bus at night to the community college. The last thing I want to do is get stranded with a car that doesn’t work and no more busses running.

But during the day, when the temperature is warm? It’s the first time the engine has stopped worked.

I push open the door and make my way around the front of the car to the hood, pulling it open and realizing I have no clue what’s going on in front of me.

“Need some help?”

I cock my head around the hood and my tired eyes lock on a man who looks like he must be double my age walking a too cute for words French Bulldog.

“Not much anyone can do at this point.” I shrug.

“Won’t hurt for me to take a look.” His eyes are dark but welcoming. Not to mention he has a small dog that looks to be happy and well-groomed. After last night I need to be more careful around people, but this isn’t a dark ally at night. This is the day, and this man in the suit with a perfectly trimmed beard is standing right in line with the security cameras in my apartment complex’s outdoor parking lot.

“Be my guest.”

I extend my hand toward the engine and take a step back.

“Let’s see what we got here,” he says out loud, moving in closer, but keeping a safe distance from me. I take a step back, just in case, yet my mind curses my feet for the action…the woodsy smell of him beckoning me closer.

Placing both hands on the front fender he looks over the engine, and I have a second to look at his crooked fingers and the many scrapes and scratches, and even scars on the back of his hands.

He mumbles a few things as he tests some hoses and knocks on a couple of things, speaking under his breath as if he’s going through a checklist with extreme precision.

“You’re not a mechanic are you?”

“No, but I used to work on cars with my dad as a kid before he passed away.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago and the years I had with him are special. I’ll never forget them.” He pauses. “Everything checks out here. Mind if I get behind the wheel real quick?”

I remember the keys are in the ignition and he could drive away with my car. Then I do a giggle-snort combo realizing my car doesn’t even run so if he does get it to run in the first place it’s a miracle. And I doubt he’ll be driving away fast anytime soon. I can practically outrun the darn hunk of junk on foot.

“Please do,” I confirm, and he moves behind the wheel. I go to follow him, to stand at his side, but he quickly says, “Keep an eye on the engine. Let me know if you see anything.”

“Okay.”

I move back in front of the car, his little dog looking up at me as she sits there just perfectly mannered. She’s not barking, not whining, not demanding attention…nothing. Clearly, she’s been trained, as there’s nothing from keeping her from doing anything she wants, other than the tall man who’s caused my car’s shocks to strain and creak by taking a seat behind the wheel.

“Now?” he asks.

“Nothing.” I shake my head and keep my eyes glued on the engine, although I want to look around the side of the hood at his wide shoulders, the ones that extend from the door to the edge of the passenger seat. Granted my car is small, but regardless, he is huge.

For the first time in forever, I wonder if he’s huge somewhere else. The thought shocks me as I’ve never had time for men, let alone entertaining the idea of having a relationship with one.

There’s just something so thorough, caring, and even paternal, in a protective kind of way about him. We live in a world where everyone’s rushing to make another buck, and here this man is, clearly with a bank balance that tops mine, although that isn’t saying much, who’s so generously volunteering his time to help me.

“How about now?”

“Noth—”

Like clockwork the engine sputters and coughs then comes to life, the sound sounding less like a rusty gate and more like a kitten purring by the second.

“You fixed it. Wow.”

“Couple cords got tangled. You’re good to go now.”

He steps from the car, moving back toward me, and inspects the engine one last time before carefully lowering the hood. I appreciate him not slamming it, considering my ride feels like it could come tumbling down like a house of cards.

“Is there a chance it might not work later?”

“Not based on what I just fixed. Something else could always pop up, but that problem won’t bother you the rest of today.” He pauses. “If you’re worried I can give you a ride.”

“I…” My jaw hangs open as I look for an excuse that doesn’t come.

“Where you headed?” He winces ever so slightly after asking me and I wonder why, storing the thought for later. But it’s enough in the present to remind me to be careful about strangers knowing my whereabouts.

“Not far. Thank you, but my car will do the job at least for another day.”

“Okay.”

A beat passes and finally, he extends his hand. “Steven.”

I wait, cautiously optimistic before I place my tiny hand in his big mitt. “Sophia,” I say softly, and thankfully the final syllable escapes from my lips before I make contact because the moment his skin touches mine the ability to form coherent sentences or thoughts for that matter, leaves me.

My feet take root to the spot as electricity shoots through me. “Stephen King is one of my favorite non-romance authors,” I blurt out.

“Mine too,” he agrees. “In general. I don’t read romance.”

“Oh.”

I go to take my hand back but he doesn’t give it, and a part of me is glad. I want him to want it, to want me, to accept little ol’ young me. There’s something about the charisma he wields without even trying. Something magnetic about him, and it keeps my hand glued to his until finally, he releases it.

“I’m new here to the complex. I live just over there,” he says, pointing toward the units across the courtyard from me.

“Do you like it so far?” I inquire.

“I do now.”

Yet another beat passes and I feel my cheeks heat. “I better get going.”

“Yeah, me too,” he agrees. “I should get your number,” he asks, my chest caroming off my ribcage as butterflies take flight in my stomach.

“I’m…I’m in the process of changing my number right now.”

“No worries,” he says, taking a step back before reaching down and scooping up his dog.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

“I’m sure of it too.” And with that, he walks toward the front gate and disappears into the city. I turn and look at my car, running perfectly…and I’m glad for the help from this handsome stranger. One who’s already burrowing into my brain as I drive my car out of the complex, catching a grandma type bending down and tugging on Steven’s dog’s ears down the block. Jealousy streaks through me before I shake my head, reminding myself she’s twice his age. I have nothing to worry about when it comes to Steven, not that I have any sort of claim on him or him on me. Yet.