Where the Streets Have No Name(7)

Regardless, the gesture showed compassion and consideration. Two sentiments that the world was in very short supply of.

“He didn’t make it, did he.”

It wasn’t a question.

Amelia shook her head. Then she remembered the urn and shot up to her feet, regretting the action. She had one heck of a low threshold for pain. Felt like a scorching metal rod had just been jammed into the ligaments of her knee. She swore, unable to bare it.

“Right, I’m putting you to bed and you’re staying there.” In one sweeping motion, he took her into his arms and carried Amelia to the bed.

“Put me in the cot,” she argued, sliding her hands up his chest to hold onto his shoulders. Big, muscular shoulders. She licked her lips and fought her fingers need to explore. “You’ll never fit on it.”

“Not a bloody chance. You’re taking the bed,” Daniel growled, depositing her on the mattress carefully. “Besides, I’ve slept on much worse.”

She didn’t want to know what that meant.

Then she remembered something important.

Amelia settled her hand on his shoulder, her fingers gripping the coarse fabric of his shirt. The fabric stretched to its limit over his shoulders. “Would you do me a favour?”

“Anything.” He answered without a thought; without a pause.

She loosened her grip, releasing the material from her fingers. “I-I’m not a weirdo or anything but, I can’t leave him out there all night. And I need my luggage,” she added.

Like a confused puppy, Daniel’s head tilted to one side as his eyes searched hers. “Him? Out where?”

Deep breath in, hold, and exhale.

“Poppa,” she could only get the one whispered word out.

Recognition crossed his features and then, out of the blue and all in one motion, he sat down on the bed and brought her cheek to his chest in a crushing embrace. He didn’t speak. He just held her. And though she fought them, squeezing her eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep from losing her control, it happened. Amelia cried against a complete stranger until the fabric of his shirt was soaked through.

When she wept her very last tear Daniel leaned back just enough to pull the wet sweater off and used a dry section to dab her cheek. Thankfully he wore a faded black t-shirt underneath, otherwise Amelia might have ogled him, inspecting to see if his torso was as chiseled as she presumed.

“You just wait here and I’ll fetch your things.” He rose from the bed, lightly grazing his knuckles along the edge of her jaw. “Won’t be but a few minutes.”





True to his word, Daniel returned shortly after he left, though he gave her enough time to collect the mess of her emotions. In one hand he gripped the handle of her small suitcase. In the other he lovingly cradled the dark grey and indigo marble urn, which he placed on the night table beside her. Amelia felt like another deluge of tears might come, but mercifully, nothing happened.

With his help, she hobbled to the bathroom to get ready for bed. As she picked up her sky-blue flannel pajamas with little fluffy sheep, Amelia wished she had a more sophisticated style. She always picked comfort over fashion and that wasn’t likely to change any time soon. Especially during this trip, spending so much time in a car driving around the coast.

Sheep-pajamas on, teeth brushed, face washed, and hair brushed, Amelia hopped on one leg out of the bathroom. Daniel stood by the door, waiting for her. Embarrassing, but sweet at the same time. Any other man in his position might use the time to go through her things, steal whatever he could of value, and leave, taking the rental car with him. But not Daniel.

Bending at the knee, he scooped her into his arms and carried her the few steps to the bed. His strong male scent seduced her senses. Tight knots of muscles bunched against Amelia where he held her. The short trip shook her more than she was willing to admit.

“You going to be all right if I make myself scarce for a few minutes?”

Her eyes shot to his and she knew he could read the fear in her gaze. “Where are you going?”

The corner of his mouth pulled back in a mischievous half-grin. “Just to have a wash.”

“Oh, okay.” She giggled nervously.

Why did it matter if he wanted to leave? She couldn’t hold him hostage. But she now felt responsible for Daniel.

After a light and playful tousle of her hair, he slipped into the bathroom and closed the door. Seconds later, she heard the water running. Amelia took the opportunity to reach for her smartphone on the night table. Opening a search window, she took a fleeting look at the bathroom door before breaking into a man’s privacy.

Her fingers flew over the keys as she typed. She inserted four words – two she knew and two she guessed.