“Ready.”
And I found that I really, really didn’t like the way that she’d changed so completely.
Gone from open like a beautifully colored picture book to closed tight like a rarely used encyclopedia that was only meant for decoration on a bookshelf.
When we got onto my bike, her distance was felt there, too.
She didn’t wrap her arms around my waist, and by the time we were at her car, which was on a rarely used oil top road in the middle of my land and her father’s and Wyett’s, she’d distanced herself even further from me.
Pulling to the side next to her car, I all but felt her withdrawal as she got off and smiled quickly at me.
Reaching for the food, I held it out to her before she could reach over me.
“Thank you,” she said quietly as she turned for her car.
I looked at her SUV and frowned.
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected her to drive, but a beat up looking Land Rover wasn’t it.
“You have a Land Rover,” I said. “Nice. Though, it’s got a lot of bumps and bruises.”
She opened the door with a key and placed the food onto the seat.
“My mom’s,” she said quietly, closing the door to look at me. “My dad stored it until I was old enough to drive. When I was sixteen, he told me that this was it for me.”
Anger burned in my stomach.
“But, I guess, at least he made sure that I had a car. It could be worse. I could’ve had to find my own ride, which would’ve been really shitty because at the girls’ school I went to, I wasn’t allowed to go off campus and work.”
I had a feeling that by the time this was all over and done with, I was going to seriously hate Ivan Broussard.
“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to see it,” I murmured, my eyes once again going to her vehicle. “Be careful on the way home.”
Six snorted.
“Can’t see how this day could get any weirder. I’ve already been kidnapped,” she grumbled under her breath as she walked away from me and to the other side of her car.
“I’m not quite sure how you think that I kidnapped you,” I said. “I just took you to my house and allowed you to shower.”
She looked at me over her shoulder just as she was rounding the hood of her vehicle.
“If that’s the way you choose to see it,” she said as she walked to the driver’s side door and got in.
I waited for her to leave, to turn around using a three-point turn, before I started my bike up.
And on the way home to my cold, empty, never been used house, I made a decision.
I’d done the honorable thing and allowed her to leave this time.
But if we ever ran into each other again, and she found her way into my business, I wouldn’t be making the same grand gesture.
The next time she stepped into my world, she was going to be mine. In all ways.
CHAPTER 9
Hobbies: tracking orders that I made three minutes ago.
-Six to Lynn
SIX
“Hey, did you read the paper?” Wyett asked the moment that I answered the phone.
“No,” I said. “I try to avoid all things news. Newspapers tend to have news.”
She snorted. “I think you might want to lift the ban on the paper for a while and check it out.”
“Okay, hold on. Be right back,” I said as I placed the phone onto the couch arm.
Pushing my naturally curly crazy locks over my shoulder, I stood up and walked outside and down the length of my driveway.
I rented a house in the middle of Nowhere, Texas. Or, more accurately, a house on the highway that led from Kilgore to Souls Chapel, Texas. I was smack dab in the middle, and I was one of eight houses in the same little area.
To my left was Mrs. Farmer, the baker and the neighborhood bitch.
And on my right was Mr. Farmer, newly remarried, also hateful, and Mrs. Farmer’s ex-husband.
In front of me was Mr. Farmer’s mistress, Ms. Cady’s house, who also happened to be a bitch but was cool to me. So that made her all right in my book, other than the adultery thing.
Turning to my left, I hurried toward Mrs. Farmer’s driveway and stealthily stole her newspaper before running my ass back inside in order not to be caught red-handed.
When I arrived back in the house, I nearly tripped over T-Rex.
“Son of a bitch,” I cursed as I had to do a high swan dive into the couch to avoid hurting her.
“What?” Wyett asked upon hearing my curse. “Did you see your man on the paper’s front page?”
I was too busy wiping my hand down the length of my nose where I’d hit it on the couch to answer her at first.