Noah studied the face of the girl sleeping on his couch. She appeared to be about his age, seventeen, and he wondered where she'd come from. He'd never seen her at school or around town, so he decided she was probably a tourist on vacation with her parents. And since her clothing and backpack were old and frayed, they probably weren't an affluent family visiting their second home on Ocean Boulevard. She moaned when she turned onto her side and he imagined her foot hurt like hell.
An hour earlier, when they'd reached his home, he'd carried her on his back into the pool cabana and set her on a stool beside the shower. Then he'd gently introduced her foot into the spray to clean the wound and vacillated between taping it shut or taking her to the emergency room. She'd made the decision for him.
"If you're thinking about taking me to the hospital, you can forget it. I don't care how bad it is. I have white coat syndrome and I guarantee you the doctors will want to do a psychiatric evaluation."
Noah had looked at her like she was nuts and she'd replied dryly, "See, you already think I'm crazy." He'd stared into her pale blue eye and dark blue eye, knowing she was playing him. "I don't think you're crazy. I just think you have a chip on your shoulder and one of the worst attitudes I've ever been around."
She'd almost smiled. "If you think this is bad, then you haven't seen anything yet, rich boy."
"My name is Noah."
"My name is Sunny, and not because I have a sunny disposition."
That made Noah smile.
"And it's called heterochromia iridis."
He hadn't known what she was talking about. "What is?"
"My weird eyes."
"They're very pretty."
She'd retorted, "No. I'm not sleeping with you."
Jerking backward, he had exclaimed, "What the hell! Maybe you are crazy." Then he'd jumped to his feet. "Wait here while I get some antiseptic and bandages from the house."
After he'd returned neither of them spoke as he set about cleaning her wound, wrapping it with gauze, and tightly taping it. To her credit, she wasn't as vocal as she had been on the beach, and only whimpered when he applied antiseptic.
Afterward, he'd helped her to stand and when she'd said, "Just give me a drink of water and then I'll be out of here," he'd crossed his arms and replied, "So you think you're going to walk all the way back to town."
"Yes, unless you drive me there."
"Where are you staying?"
"None of your business."
"Are your parents in town?"
"None of your business."
He'd almost grinned when he said, "Are you hungry?"
"None of…" She'd hesitated. "You can make me a sandwich before you drive me to town."
Noah had made a sweeping motion. "Can you walk or do you want me to carry you to the kitchen?"
She'd snorted. "Don't even try."
He'd then led the way out of the cabana to the glass pocket doors of his home and opened them wide as Sunny whistled. "So this is how rich people live?" Ignoring her remark, he'd walked across the great room to the kitchen with her hobbling behind him, and motioned for her to sit on one of the island stools. While pulling the makings for sandwiches from the fridge, he'd tried to get more information from her, but she had evaded his questions with more snarky remarks.
After eating two sandwiches loaded with everything: pickles, tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, ham, chicken, and even potato chips, she'd confided, "Not that it's any of your business, but I need to go to the cheapest motel in town. I've decided to stay in Somewhere for a while."
"What about your parents?"
"What parents?"
"How old are you?"
"None–"
"I know. None of my business. Now, how old are you?"
"Old enough to vote. How old are you?"
"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen in February."
"Are your parents going to throw you a birthday bash to celebrate your coming of age?" In and of itself the question had been reasonable, but not the way she'd asked it, and Noah was getting tired of her attitude. "My father is dead and the whereabouts of my mother unknown."
Unexpectedly, her haughty expression had softened. "I-I'm sorry."
Mesmerized by the softness that entered her eyes, Noah had absentmindedly said, "My grandfather raised me."
"Is he a good man?"
"The best."
"You're lucky." The girl's unguarded moment vanished and she'd stood, wincing. "I'm ready to go."
Noah hadn't wanted her to leave just yet. "You should rest on the couch for a while." Before she could protest he'd added, "Let me call some motels and find out which is the least expensive but in a nice part of town."
"I don't care if it's in a nice place. I can take care of myself."
Noah had shaken his head, exasperated with the girl. "Okay, but at least let me find an inexpensive one for you. I don't feel like chasing all over looking for one."
"I didn't ask you to chase all over. Just drop me off in town at a second hand store so I can buy some crutches. Then you're off the hook."
Noah had gritted his teeth to keep from shouting at the silly girl, and motioned toward the couch. "Please rest while I find a motel."
When she'd started to protest again he'd given her a look that must have conveyed his mounting anger.
"Okay. Okay."
He'd watched her hobble to the couch because he knew she wouldn't accept his assistance, and then retrieved his phone from his pocket to start a search of Somewhere's motels. After navigating to a few websites, he'd found one several blocks off Main Street that had an average 3.9 rating, and thought he'd run it by Sunny. When he'd glanced up, she was stretched out on the couch sleeping soundly.