With a shift in his seat, I hear his hand tighten on the steering wheel before he clears his throat. “Why were you at the bar tonight?”
“What does that haveanythingto do with anything?” I ask with a huff.
“Are you always this difficult?” He asks, exasperation in his tone, and turns his head long enough to give me a frustrated glare and then looks back at the road.
“You call it difficult, I call it none of your business.” I turn my head and pretend to look out the passenger window, but it’s after midnight and all I can see is the reflection of him illuminated by the dash lights.
He really is handsome, and under different circumstances, I would be interested. He definitely knows how to kiss a woman, that’s for sure.
Keeping one hand on the top of the steering wheel, he leans on the door with his other and cups his jaw. The sound of his beard scraping against his palm is loud in the quiet cab. “I’m just trying to establish a timeline and details.”
“The only details you need are the ones that start when I innocently stepped around a corner while getting some fresh air and saw two men stab another.”
His frustration is palpable in the SUV, and, for some reason, I’m enjoying it.
“I just would like to know your frame of mind before yousaw the incident. Just to make sure you’re not letting prior emotions skew anything you saw.”
I turn to him and give him a ‘duh’ look. “Why does anyone go to a bar, Special Agent? To have fun. Ever heard of that? Fun? Shouldn’t you be asking me how many drinks I had or if anyone else might have groped me besides you?”
His hand squeezes the steering wheel again, the leather crunching in his grip. “I did not grope you. My hands never touched anything they shouldn’t have.”
“Oh really? So my boobs and butt are off limits, but it’s okay to commandeer my hands and back and shove your knee between my legs?” I cross my arms and sit back against the seat. My sister would tell me I look like a petulant child, but I don’t care, I’m having too much fun.
He is quiet for a moment, and I start to wonder if I’ve gone too far. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I grabbed you and kissed you, my only intention was to block you from view, but I could tell you were about to yell at me, so I kissed you so they wouldn’t hear you.”
I wasn’t expecting an apology. The air in my difficult bubble is starting to leak out until he says, “But in all honesty, I think you liked it. You kissed me back, and, baby, I know when a woman enjoys being kissed. You practically melted into me.”
Ooh, new air in my bubble.
“Conceit is not an admirable quality, Special Agent. I tell you this only out of concern for the next woman you grope. Women have many different tactics of self-defense, one of which is letting the aggressor, that’s you, by the way, think she likes it to buy time. That’s in practically every thriller movie on TV. I’m pretty sure it might be in the FBI self-defense one-oh-one handbook you have lying around somewhere.” I swirl my hand in the air indifferently before I suck in a breath with an afterthought. “Oh, and stop calling me baby.”
The tension in the SUV crackles like static, and he keeps his hand over his mouth as he cups his jaw.
I don’t know why I decide to tell him. Something about the way it makes me feel bad that he doesn’t respond to my jab. “It’s my birthday.” I adjust and tighten my arms across my chest and resume pretending to look out the dark window. At nothing.
His reflection looks my way just for a second and then back at the road. The quiet is making me antsy, but then he says, “Happy birthday.”
I don’t usually celebrate my birthday. The specialness of it disappeared after Mom died. Dad tried to make birthdays and holidays special, but the magic of it didn’t come back until my sister, Marley, was a little older and she made things special again. But I never got the birthday magic back.
My friend Allison made me go out tonight. I was prepared to smoke a joint and paint whatever came to mind in my cabin, but I let her talk me into this ridiculous outing instead. So much for ‘celebrating’.
Huffing a small breath as I see my driveway coming into view on the long, dark country road, I say. “I hate disingenuous sentiments, Special Agent. This is me.” I point to the driveway.
As I walk into the house, I make just a little bit of noise, dropping my shoes near the front door, knowing that my light-sleeping father and brothers will hear me. Since I’ve been staying in the cabin for the past few weeks, they’re not expecting me in the house tonight. I just hope I don’t wake up my sisters or any of the babies.
Dad refurbished the old foreman’s cabin behind the house when I told him I wanted an art studio about nine years ago. At first I only used it as a place to paint, but over time I started staying the night and eventually, I moved in. When I realized I enjoyed having some space between me and my family, I justmade it my home away from home.
But sometimes I like to be close to my family, and I stay in the big house.
So their surprise when they come downstairs to see me with a strange man in the kitchen, in the middle of the night, is understandable.
“What?!?” Gray and my dad bellow simultaneously once they are in the large kitchen with me and I introduce the tall, dark, and handsome agent standing behind me. And tell them why he’s here.
“Shhh. You’re going to wake everyone up.” I whisper-yell, and they both reel in their tempers.
Rhys steps forward and introduces himself, shaking their hands, and apologizing for waking them up. He explains the events of the night, giving few details of his case and the type of men I bumped into. He sums the whole thing up by telling them he wants to put me in a safe house with an agent until he can get the two men into custody.
“No, she won’t be going anywhere.” My brother Mason is standing in the doorway, his broad shoulders taking up over half the space. His off-the-books black ops teammate, Jax, who is married to my older sister, Marley, who is also Mason’s twin, stands right behind him.
