The Stranger (Part 3)
Written by
Amanda Davis
February 2013
Written by
Amanda Davis
February 2013

He entered behind me shutting the door once he was in and I heard the locks engage.

My breathing stopped. What was I thinking? Locked in a car not only with a strange man in the backseat, but his rather large driver as well. He could take me anywhere. The two of them could easily overpower me.

My heart thumped in my chest and I tried not to look as frightened as I was feeling. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and took a deep breath. No one knew where I was, who I was with. I'd sneaked out of that restaurant. I didn't even have my cell phone to call for help if I wanted to. What was I thinking?

I stole a glance over at the impeccable man just an arms reach away and I couldn't stop the thought of some of the wonderfully bad things I really wouldn't mind him doing to me.

Oh. My. God. What is wrong with me?

"Twenty-eight thirty-three Fawn Drive," he told the driver.  "And the lady is going to?"

He motioned for me to give the driver my information and I shook my head, "This lady will give the driver information after we drop off the gentleman."

My voice was shaky and cracked when I first spoke, I hoped he hadn't noticed.

He chuckled, "Mr. Smith, you take her where ever she wants to go after you drop me off. And you make sure she get there safe or I'll make sure you will be looking for employment elsewhere tomorrow."

I was almost offended that he was laughing at me. Was he laughing because I was being careful about not giving out my address while he was in the car? I didn't know him. I sure as hell wasn't going to give him my address. It was bad enough I was in a car with him and his driver was going to know where I lived.

I may have been slightly miffed at his blatant disregard for my protection of my personal information, but I was more confused at his offer and insistence that I ride with him. Even more perplexed at his demand that I'm taken home safely.

Since when do I need to be chaperoned home?

Since when do complete strangers care so passionately about other strangers?

"Why are you doing this?" I asked softly wondering if he even heard me.

The driver nodded and proceeded to pull away from the curb. I stole one more glance out the back window as I waited for a response to my question wondering why he gave a shit if I got home safe or not as I saw the dark haired up-do of my dear friend and the confused scratching of the head of my... 'date.'

Oh, Kat was going to drag me over the coals for this one, especially after she heard about how I got home.

"You must be freezing," he said softly, seeming to blatantly ignore my question, genuine concern in his voice.

He must not have heard me.

He reached over placing his jacket around my shoulders and pulling it closed around the front of me so careful not to touch me. It was warm from being in his arms and it smelled heavenly; like aftershave in the woods on a warm spring day. I know, weird combo, but it worked.

I looked over at him, a crooked smile playing on his face. I kept silently scolding myself. I don't just jump into strangers' cars going God knows where. I didn't trust just any schmo off the street. But, as soon as those words would enter my thoughts, I would suddenly feel a wave of something calming, something had me dangerously close to trusting a complete stranger. I couldn't put my finger on why.

But, it was something that made me open my big mouth.

"Um, thanks for the jacket," I shrugged tugging on the edges of the coat. "I'm Sarah."

Way to go big mouth! Why don't you just give him your address now! Hell, why don't you just invite him to your place for a few drinks?

"So, Sarah," he started.

He broke me from my personal ass-chewing making my heart stutter at the way my name rolled off his tongue.

Wow, how did he do that?

"What is a girl like you doing all alone on New Years? Or should I ask, why are you trying to be alone?"

I froze, unsure how to answer. I didn't need to delve into my personal business with him. Even if he was smiling when he said it and I had that calming sensation wash over me again. So I really had no control over the nonsense that came out of my big, stupid mouth, "Using that old pick up line, are we?"

I giggled nervously.

Oh, dear Lord, what did I just say? I could have slapped myself in the forehead with the palm of my hand. I couldn't stop the idiotic things from coming out, things I hadn't uttered since high school. I'd learned, in my profession, how to smoothly negotiate through an interview that took a wrong turn or to woo someone back who suddenly clammed up when Id suddenly struck a raw nerve. I'm sure he was regretting letting this stupid, stubborn girl into his car and I wouldn't blame him one bit.

To my relief he didn't respond to my mindlessness. He just sat there looking at me and waited for an actual response. Did I admit to him that I'd just left my at the restaurant? Then explain how I got up and left without a word or explanation? That my career might be on the line and my friendship was on thin ice because, like an idiot, I was in this car? My reasoning's for my actions whether rational or irrational were none of his concern. Why did it matter what I said? Who cares what he thinks.

"I, um," I paused clearing my throat.  My voice not more than a whisper replied, "I did have plans, but they changed."





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