Holding Out for a Hero Read Free Page A

off both shoes, stuffed them in my bag, and limped barefoot the last block.
    I reached my building and started up the stairs a little after six, hoping there’d be hot water for a long soak in the tub, but not holding my breath. For some reason, a noise behind me caught my attention. I’d like to think it was because I was more tuned in to my surroundings after my epiphany.
    Squinting across the street into the dim alley, I saw some kids harassing a homeless man. They laughed as they pulled at his clothes and kicked him where he lay on the ground. I knew his name was Jerry because last month I heard someone say “Good morning, Jerry,” to him. I’d kept walking that morning, pretending I didn’t see him, because homeless people made me uncomfortable.
    Anger flashed through me—at myself, and at the kids for picking on someone less fortunate. Without thinking twice, I hurried across the street, fumbling through my bag for my cell phone. Jerry attempted to get to his feet, but one of the kids shoved him back down.
    “Hey!” I yelled. “Leave him alone!”
    The tallest of the three tormentors turned on me. He looked about high school age. I lifted my chin to meet his gaze, but he was in the process of assessing if I posed a threat.
    “Who’s gonna make us?” he sneered.
        Apparently, I wasn’t—a threat, that is.
    “I mean it.” I stiffened my spine for an extra inch of height and glared up at the kid. “Get out of here or I’ll call the cops.”
    To prove I meant business, I waved my phone in the air. The kid lunged forward and suddenly I didn’t have my security line anymore. He laughed in my face.
    “Whatcha gonna do now, hero?”
    Yeah, what was I gonna do now? I hoped he couldn’t see I was shaking in my bare feet. Newspaper rustled against the pavement behind me. My pulse skyrocketed into the red zone as I realized Jerry and I were now surrounded, neither one of us capable of protecting the other.
    “You heard the lady. Get the hell out of here.”
    Oh, my God—German Chocolate Cake! I never expected to hear his wonderful voice again. Weak-kneed with relief, I started to turn around, but he stepped past me to post himself between me and Jerry, and the smart-mouth little jerk. I would’ve laughed at the kid’s expression if I hadn’t been so darn scared.
    Our rescuer’s six-foot-plus frame and broad shoulders outlined in a black T-shirt were enough to convince the spineless punks it was time to split.
    “And don’t let me catch you here again,” he called after their cowardly backs.
    His electric blue gaze shifted to me for a quick appraisal before he held out a hand to help Jerry to his feet. He spoke softly to Jerry while I concentrated on stopping my knees from knocking together. Mr. Apology then reached into his pocket with one hand while pointing across the street with his other. Jerry stared at him for a long moment before accepting a set of keys with an expression of dignified gratitude.
    Jerry faced me, genuine appreciation reflected in his tired brown eyes. “Thank you, miss,” he said, his voice gruff.
    “I didn’t really do any—”
    His hand grasped mine, stopping my protest mid-sentence. “You saw. Thank you.”
    Did he know only a month ago I’d pretended he didn’t exist? Shame cast my gaze downward, until his fingers tightened. “It’s never too late. Thank you.”
    I swallowed hard in the face of his forgiveness. “You’re welcome.”
    He gave one last squeeze and then crossed the street and entered my apartment building. I swung my questioning gaze back to our smooth-voiced champion. Who’d shaved and was yummier than ever.
    “Do you live there?” I asked.
    He offered that charming half smile I’d found so attractive this morning. “No, my brother owns the building.”
    His statement effectively jogged my memory—he resembled my landlord! Only better. Younger. I glanced down quickly. Unmarried. I couldn’t have held back a smile if I’d wanted to, even