I see Colton’s truck pulling up the drive as I swing open the door. That explains why Gambit took off out of it moments ago. My irritation has been festering since Colton left without any explanation. He didn’t tell me where he was going, when he’d be back or what was so important that he needed to leave that second. I guess he doesn’t have to tell me what he’s doing but we hadn’t settled the fact that I wasn’t staying here. I have a feeling that choice isn’t so much up to me anymore. It doesn’t look as if anyone is going to help me get the hell out of here. Mr. Weston will come looking for me at some point. Maybe.
I race down the stairs, making a beeline straight to him. He takes his sweet-ass time getting out of his truck. He has that little smirk on his face again.
“Something wrong, sugar?” he says with a smile in his voice. “Looks like you’re upset about something.” Is this man for real right now? is my only thought. How does he stay so calm when I’m clearly pissed?
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong, you big jerk! You left me here with no explanation of when you’d be back, no timeframe and you locked me in here!” I let all of that out in one long breath.
“Is that all?” His eyes look over me from head to toe.
“I have an entire list of things that I can cite if need be.” I’m about to lay into him more until he brings his arm up to wipe his brow and I notice a makeshift bandage wrapped around his hand. I rush forward, grabbing his arm gently and bringing it down so I can get a better look at it. The bandage is a little bloody and it looks like it needs to be wrapped again.
“What happened to your hand?” I rush to ask. My heart gives a weird flutter at seeing the blood on him.
“Cut it helping a friend,” is the only reply he gives me, which for some reason upsets me all over again. He left me here, locked in and he can’t even give me a decent explanation.
“I’ll have you know that I’ve called the police and they’ll be here in a few minutes,” I throw at him, wanting to see his reaction. This big jerk smiles from ear to ear. Maybe they can help with his hand, or at least find out what happened, because he isn’t telling me.
“The police don’t come out to this neck of the woods, sweetheart,” he says, still smiling. The police go everywhere. Don’t they? Of course they do. Why is he smiling when his hand is dripping blood?
“Maybe we should go to the hospital,” I suggest. My hand moves his closer to me trying to get a better look.
“I thought the cops were already on their way?” That smile turns right into a smirk. I narrow my eyes on him, letting go of his arm. I have a feeling he knows I already tried to call them and no one is coming.
“I want to leave, Colton. You can’t keep me here against my will. It’s a crime!”
“I’m not stopping you.” He motions with his hand that I’m free to go but I notice his body shifts right into my path. I want to storm off past him but now there is nowhere to go. My eyes drift back to his hand.
“You’re not going to go to the hospital, are you?”
“If it needs a stitch, I got it. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugs it off.
“Someone should take care of you.” The words slip past my lips before I know what I’m saying.
“By all means.” He raises his eyebrows in suggestion.
“A professional. Like a paramedic?” I turn, heading back into the house and going straight for my phone. He follows me into the house, kicking the door closed behind him. It’s then I notice that he’s covered halfway in mud.
I hit dial on the phone. “You again?” The woman from before answers the phone.
“Hey, Tammy,” Colton drawls as he tries to toe off his work boot. It doesn’t work. He reaches down to try and pull them off with his bloody hand.
“Stop that!” I run over to him. “Sit.” I point at the bench next to the front door. “You should have come in the back.” I point toward where I saw the washroom off the kitchen. I’m pretty sure it’s what they call a mudroom. I definitely get the term now.
“Busy chasing you.” I drop to the floor to take his boots off for him so he doesn’t hurt his hand more. I need to get a look at how bad the cut is.
“She’s a handful,” comes from my phone.
“How about you be of some help, Tammy, and get someone out here?” I snip. Not sure if I want someone to come have a look at Colton’s hand so they can talk some sense into him or for someone to help me escape.