A pro at this game, he smirks. “Yeah, but you still can’t have it.”
“How long will it take?” A sliver of reality pricks my consciousness. I have no money, no credit cards, no tent, nothing.
“I couldn't possibly guess. Where should I drop you off?” How can he be so clueless?
“A homeless shelter?” What other options do I have?
“There’s one here in Burlington, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Not guilty at all, I slide my pinkie up his jeans until I’m pressing against the unmistakable shape of his hard-on. “Well, how about I borrow your camping gear?”
Without looking, he gently removes my hand and places it back in my lap. “Your family’s booked in a five-star resort. I’m sure they would love to have you stay with them.”
His words hit harder than they should. Tears sting my eyes, but I can't explain why. I’m no crybaby. I’m a damn fighter pilot.
Coughing, I roll down the window, letting the fresh air blast away the emotions. In my head, I hear the fights, the blame, the way they twist everything to make it my fault. Thanks, but no thanks.
Once I’ve wrestled my feelings into submission, I turn to him. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my family and I don’t mesh. How about I spend the night in jail? Warm bed. Coffee. No expectations. I’ll be fine.”
He glances at me, eyebrows raised. “You’re not kidding?”
“Well, I’ll be damned. I shocked the sheriff.”
A grin spreads across his face. “Can’t shoot my deputy. I don’t have one.”
We both laugh. When the chuckles fade, something shifts making it feel right to speak from the heart. “Listen, an empty cell would be welcome. You’d know where to find me. Also, if you can find me a pad and some pencils, I could sketch.”
His dark eyes catch my face, the smile slipping. “I don’t get you. You’ve got a loving family. Why reject them?”
“Their love comes at too high a price.” For a moment, I consider dumping all my baggage on him—laying it bare—but think better of it. “So, will you lock me up?”
“No. You’re staying with me.” While pastures, cows, and corn blur past the window, I picture him naked, climbing up my body…
Oh hell to the no.“Your tent is fine. I’ll pitch it outside your back door. Honestly, I'd prefer it.”
“Nothing will happen—unless you insist.” He shoots me a glance, one brow arched.
When our eyes lock, I tilt my head to his fly. “Might want to tell him your plan.”
“Questioning my integrity?” His hands grip the wheel tightly, neck muscles taut.
Ah. So the man does have a snark threshold.
“No.” My tone softens. “I believe you. I will gladly stay at your place, but only until I get my replacements. Speaking of… Can I use your phone? I need to start cancelling everything—order a new license.”
Just thinking about all the calls makes me groan. “Can’t you ask your FBI pal to give one credit card back? Pretty sure not many people are murdered by a small plastic card.”
His smirk returns with all forgiven. “You could send your fancy lawyer to get them back.”
“Yeah, right.” Rolling my eyes, I connect to the web to begin the long, mind-numbing process of reporting my cards stolen. By the time we pull into his muddy driveway, my head is pounding.
In direct contrast to my mind’s turmoil, his cabin’s the epitome of calm. Made of solid, weathered logs, it nestles to the edge of the woods. It’s a real-life postcard, including a barking dog.
“Wait here for a moment, I wasn’t expecting company.”Is he… blushing?
Before I can tease him, he’s out of the truck, jogging up the steps. A few minutes later, Becca quiets, then breathless, he opens my door.
“Sorry about that.”
