CAELAN'S PREY

Part 3- Ride-

As if my throat parched, it was hard to swallow.

I inwardly cleared my throat and asked again. "I wanted to talk to Mr. Henderson, please... Are you his son?" I heard myself speak and I almost smiled at how smoothly the sentence went out.

"And you are?" He asked. The deep, rough voice I almost shuddered.

"Scarlette Mathews. Mr. Henderson has my bike," I said. I thought I saw the corner of his lips twitch like something was amusing to him before he turned his back, leaving the door open.

"Come in. Give me a sec," he said and walked upstairs. I soon stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

My eager eyes followed him. His back was a wall of brawny muscles. Powerfully built. The man must be one of those who like to hit the gym. My eyes rolled inwardly. Just like Travis. Indeed, Travis was muscular too, but the man appeared sexier- Stop it, why am I comparing them? Focus, Scarlette. Focus.

Scowling, my eyes observed the room. I wondered if he owned the place. Of course, he did own the place. He was almost naked, right? He couldn’t be that comfortable in someone else’s house.

The whole place was spacious. It was an all-gray living room, bringing sophistication to the whole ambiance. The furnishing, the designs, fixtures, all put stunning decor into the room. Wealthy people would always make an elegant house out of what their fortune could provide them.

I walked to the sofa and sat down. It was soft. I couldn't tell the time he left me there. My eyes were just enjoying it while appreciating the place. A single painting mounted on the wall caught my attention. It was an oil painting- a combination of yellow, green, blue- of many colors; it was very sensual. Amatory. The woman's body was seductively bent, an arm supported her back. The man's lips were wrapped around the woman's left n****e. You'd recognize the form of their bodies in the painting as you stare at them deeply and nothing else. It was beautiful. Captivating.

My phone sounded off but was cut short and was followed by a message notification. Fishing out my phone, my brows frowned disappointingly,

I will stay over tonight, but I'll be home late, sweet.

I heard the door open, and footsteps walked down the stairs. I did not look at him. I waited, looking as though I was busy replying to a message and sure I was. Travis miscalled and left a message. He had always been late for home on those days. Every time I asked him about it, he'd always say his job demanded his time. He worked overtime, and like tonight, he would tell me the same reason. He could have fetched me. I could be home shortly after this annoying retrieval of my bike.

Sure. I replied.

"So, Ms. Matthews, where were we again?" He asked, getting across from where I was seated. He wore a casual white t-shirt and black short pants. His hair was still very damp and was clearly combed only by fingers, looking rather unruly. His after-shower scent invaded my nostrils. Masculine and Fresh. Silly, why do I seem to notice details surrounding this man? I wanted to groan in frustration. Stop it.

We? Right.

"We're on me wanting to speak with Mr. Henderson. Is he at home? Is he your father?" I asked as I looked at him from my phone.

His eyes seemed to narrow a bit. "You're talking to him," he said nonchalantly.

"Oh," was now my eyes that slightly narrowed. "where's my bike?" I was straight to the point, no beating around the bush.

"You see, Ms. Mathews, my car was scratched because of your clumsiness." My teeth ground. Clumsiness? "I had to reschedule a client meeting because I didn't want to drive a car with an almost broken rear light."

I scoffed. "It was just a scratch. The impact was not that strong for that to break the rear light of a car. Are you kidding me? I knew it was just a scratch."

His face darkened. "Kidding is far my business, Ms. Matthews. You're here to apologize."

"I wrote my apology on that paper."

"I saw no paper,"

"I did...It might have dropped on the ground. Did you try on the ground?" I insisted.

His eyes stared at me, "And you think I had the time to check the ground for paper?" He asked, eyes scolding. I tried to counter his stares, but I felt like drowning when I looked at him longer in the eyes.

"Alright then, I'm sorry for the scratch but I need my bike now because I still need to go home. I paid for the taxi with my money, so it's fair for you to deduct the money on how much you've spent on the repair. Are we now, okay?"

"It cost me $129 for the part and the labor," he said.

"$129! You got to be kidding me! That's too much for a small scratch!"

His face turned impassive; his eyes were unreadable, they were making me uncomfortable. What was with this man? Surely, he was rich enough to chase me for 129 dollars. He'd probably give it to anyone for a tip.

"Keep the money. Apology accepted." He stood up.

That was it?

He strolled to a door- probably leading to where my bike was, so I followed him. I found the situation genuinely strange, but I was glad I didn't have to pay the money though. It's not that I couldn't pay for it, there are just other things I need the money for.

My eyes stared at his rump. Hmm, sexy, round, tight, hard-

"The ramp to the outside is a bit steep, I'll carry it for you instead."

I almost choked on my own saliva when I heard him speak about the ramp. I thought for a second that he knew I was staring at his rump.

"Yes, please," I said.

His back stiffened or I thought it stiffened but he continued walking until he reached the door.

We slid inside. There. My bike was next to his car. My eyes scanned his car, especially that part where I marked his car. I didn't see a single scratch on it. Flawless.

The man has two cars. A Chevrolet Silverado and the one I accidentally grazed.

He pressed a button on the wall and the garage door opened. It left me asking myself why he had a steep garage ramp. As he carried the bike, I looked at my phone and made another call.

Travis's phone was ringing. Just ringing.

"I can give you a ride if you want?" he slightly turned to me.

I shook my head, "Oh, no, it would be too much. I was glad you didn't let me pay for it. That was already kind of you. Thank you. I'll just call my-my boyfriend." I said as I dialed Travis's number again. It only kept ringing.

"Your boyfriend?" He asked. I couldn't say the question sounded naturally inquiring. It sounded tight. Detached.

"Yeah," I answered.

″How long?" He asked. I thought he would stop asking by now.

"Two years..."

He hummed an approbation. He let the bike stand on its kickstand to keep it upright.

″It's getting late. I'll give you a lift." He spoke.

The call kept directing me to a voice mail and it started to irritate the patience in me.

"It's really fine, Mr. Henderson. He'll meet me halfway. It's late. You should rest." I slid my phone back inside my bag. I felt like stamping my foot in irritation.

"I insist. It's getting late as you said which would be impertinent of me to let you go home this time of the evening alone when I know I can drive you home." He said and pivoted back to his car and fished out his key.

He even had his key ready in his pocket.

I sighed. Guess, I should be thankful instead.