* * * * * *
Josh was standing by his motorcycle, shaken up. Heart thundering a mile a minute in his chest, adrenaline pounding in his brain. He took off his helmet and worriedly scanned the area behind him searching for the girl.
She wasn't there.
Where’d she go?” he mumbled, mind still frazzled by the near collision.
Scrutinizing the ground, the cars and farther down the sidewalk, she was gone. Had she walked around the corner that quickly? he pondered. He hadn't hit her, that much he knew. Thank God for small mercies, he thought. That didn’t mean she was okay -- positive that he frightened her. He wanted to apologize.
He began assessing his own situation. There was going to be one heck of a strawberry on his thigh, he inspected the material on what was left of his pants leg, part of the denim had been ripped away by the asphalt. He shook his leg gently, it was bruised but not broken. He flexed his shoulder, his arm was okay, it had been protected by his thick leather jacket. He'd been lucky, very lucky.
Glancing back for the girl a second time, there was no sight of her. Where had she gone? he puzzled.
A soccer mom driving a minivan pulled up beside him and hit the power button on the console, rolling down the passenger side window.
"Are you okay?" she called.
"Yes, I think so..."
He took a step closer to the van, ducking down enough to peer through the window into the dark interior and saw a sincere, apologetic expression on the pale oval staring back at him. The strong smell of diet coke hit his nose. The woman’s yoga pants and shirt were obviously stained with the fizzy drink. The fabric still looked wet.
"I'm so sorry about slamming on the brakes like that... That red car pulled out right in front of me."
"Which red car? The BMW?” asked Josh. He’d spotted it earlier during the lane change.
The woman looked forward scanning the cars ahead.
Unaffected by Josh's accident they’d started moving down the roadway as soon as the traffic beacon had changed. She raised her hand pointing to the shiny red BMW about three blocks down the street.
"That one there... You see it turning left at the intersection?"
"Yes, I see it,” he said, nodding grimly. Watching as the vehicle in question negotiated the corner. That driver’s a moron, he thought.
Looking back at the woman, he asked, “Hey, do you know your brake lights are out?"
The woman was clearly surprised by the news.
"I didn't know that... I'll get them checked," she promised with apparent earnestness, "Are you sure you're okay?”
Josh nodded and looked back at the spot on the curb where the girl had been standing.
"Did you see what happened to the girl?"
"What girl?"
"The one on the curb back there... I almost hit her."
"Are you sure? I didn't see anybody."
"I'm sure there was somebody...maybe she left," he finished vaguely, feeling confused.
A truck pulled up behind the minivan. Its driver was honking, impatient for the soccer mom to get moving. She complied and waved at Josh as she pulled away.
Josh stepped back to his bike and inspected it.
The motorcycle appeared functional. It's paint job was scratched up pretty bad on one side. He ran his hand along the front tire examining it for any punctures until his fingers encountered the concrete chunk lodged under the front fender. It took some effort on his part before he pried it loose and tossed it back up on the sidewalk.
He glanced around one more time for the girl. Why would she take off like that? he puzzled. If nothing else he was surprised that she hadn’t come over and yelled like bloody murder for scaring the crap out of her, he mused. The corners of his mouth lifting in wry smirk. Maybe he’d been lucky on that front as well. Drama queens were not his thing. Shaking his head ruefully, he hoped that she was okay.
Putting on his helmet, he sat on the Harley and cranked it. The bike sprang to life immediately. He eased it forward a few feet gingerly. It seemed to be fine. Nothing wrong with the balance, engine or tires.
Josh carefully got back into traffic and headed to the intersection where the BMW had turned. Maybe he could catch the idiot and give him a piece of his mind.
The day was still clear and bright. Patient as Josh normally was, part of him was itching for a...well not a fight exactly. More like a discussion. Definitely a discussion. The kind that involved capital letters and four-letter-words, he thought.
* * * * * *
Emily was shaken up when she finally stopped moving. She lay there quietly taking stock of herself. There was something warm trickling down the side of her right cheek. Wiggling her arms and legs, nothing felt broken.
Somewhat disoriented, it took a few moments before realizing that she was on her stomach with her face planted in the grass, the smell of it pungent in her nose. She spat out the leaves and dirt in her mouth, slowly getting up on all fours, using her hands and knees.
"Here...let me help you," came a stranger's voice, a strong hand gently grabbed her left forearm and slowly pulled her upward.
A second hand reached around her waist and steadied her. When she was standing upright, a dazed Emily found herself facing a gray blazer which somehow seemed familiar.
Oh crap, she thought, it’s the recruiter from the bookstore.
She tilted her head back and looked at him. Up close he was glorious. She felt dizzy gazing at that handsome face.
Round cyan eyes, rimmed with thick, dark lashes peered at her from beneath jet black brows. He looked down at her with apparent interest and something else she couldn’t define.
His lips were broad and smooth, a dark ruddy shade next to his tan skin. There was a small cleft in his chin.
Emily was afraid of moving, fearing that she would fall while unable to stop marveling at the beauty of this man. She felt overcome by this growing sense of wonderment.