Yet, that little devil, the one sitting on my shoulder with a heated pitchfork, wants answers.
And the only way I can get that is to stay in this cab and follow his lead.
Chapter Eight
It’s just like stepping into a car museum.
In front of the garage sit four cars. Three of them sporty and shiny, and the last one on the end, a black truck with large wheels and dark windows.
There are two motorbikes on the side—some sort of racer bike with orange pinstripes parked next to a Harley David
son. It seems excessive and unnecessary to waste so much money on these possessions, but then I remember something that Liam once said to me. “A car to a man is like shoes to a woman, you can never have enough.”
Liam would be in heaven.
I’m overwhelmed with guilt. I shouldn’t be here in another man’s home. The same man who violently kissed me in the back of a cab without an explanation then remained silent during the next twenty minutes to his house.
But I have this odd feeling.
Maybe not a feeling but something unusual drawing me in.
I follow Wesley’s lead, standing in front of the wide, clear glass door. The house is very modern perched in a secluded gated community. The lights turn themselves on, almost blinding me as we walk inside. My curiosity is piquing more than it should, my feet moving against the polished concrete floors, staring at the pictures hanging on the wall and furniture placed around the home.
It’s simplistic. It screams ‘bachelor.’ He takes me inside what I assume is his living room. There’s not much to see—a white leather modular lounge with a shaggy black rug on the floor in front of it. There’re pictures on the wall, artwork that gives it a splash of color but far from that homey feel.
I hadn’t realized that Wesley had left the room. “Wanna drink?”
He opens a beer, consuming it within a beat, while handing me a bottle with his other hand.
“Uh… no thanks.”
He shrugs his shoulders and disappears again, leaving me alone in this big room. What the hell do I do? Take a seat? Stand here looking like an idiot? I’m not sure how to escape. I didn’t pay much attention on the drive over here with my mind all over the place. There’s no way I can tell what suburb I’m in, let alone his house number. The room spins slightly, the dizziness induced by the panic of being in a stranger’s home, becomes apparent.
The smell of his cologne graces the room as he returns moments later, and suddenly, I manage to calm myself down.
“Let’s go out back.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, welcoming the fresh night air to ease my unsettled imagination. My wedges produce a clunky sound with every step, making me self-conscious as I follow him through the house and into another living area with glass doors surrounding it.
He taps on a remote which slides the doors open onto a large patio. There’s a lap pool with a small Jacuzzi on one end, steam rising from it like a magical oasis. Even the pool is lit up, showcasing the deep blue water.
The view is something else. The house overlooks the city, and all I can see is the horizon full of lights. It’s breathtaking. Different from the clear sky back home. I breathe out, watching the world outside this house until a warm breath catches my skin, causing me to stiffen.
“It’s a big world out there.” His voice is soft, raspy, yet full of edge. “And I can tell it scares you.”
Acting on defense, I’m quick to respond with my back to him. “Nothing scares me.”
He turns me around, his hands gripping my shoulders with force. The grin on his face disturbs me—it’s not your average boy-next-door smile—it is sinister, the kind of smile that makes the Joker tap his heels in delight.
“You’re awful at lying. Quit while you can.”
I take his hands off me, sensitive to the closeness of his body near mine. I have to turn away from his stare, my gaze drifting around the room we walked through to distract my erratic heartbeat. The doors remain wide open, and I hadn’t noticed earlier, but the glass coffee table inside this larger living room is covered in bottles—beer, champagne, and others I’m not familiar with.
“There’s a saying. Don’t judge a book by its cover. So what if I’m from a small town? Doesn’t make me any less a human than you are.”
My arms fold pressing my breasts together to control this unknown tightness in my chest. This stare of his—persistent and killing me slowly—antagonizes me to the point that I push him away, scared of what might happen.
I turn back around, watching my step down to the patio and keep my distance as I walk around the pool edge to clear my mind. Why am I here? My loneliness shouldn’t have dragged me here. I have a boyfriend back home and a best friend on call. Never mind that they aren’t actually present. A phone call could have cured that.