What was he implying?
I should be scared of it.
Of him.
But I…wasn’t.
“Cash—”
He shot upright and turned his back to me as he started for the front door. “I have things to do.”
Right.
Okay.
He’d somehow lost his knack for deep conversation, and I guess that subject was closed.
Temporarily because I wouldn’t be swayed so easily.
“All right, then,” I said, as bright as I could when I wanted to press him for being a dick.
But I guess I had imploded his quiet little world then turned around and asked theworldof him.
I needed to cut the guy some slack.
“I need to go into town and get some things for the kids. I’m going to walk to where I left my car then?—”
I reared back when he whirled around. “You don’t go out that door without me.”
“I—”
He shoved out his hand.
I stared at it blankly.
“Keys,” he grunted.
Oh, right.
I shuffled around him and headed into his room, fumbled through my purse and found my keys, then came rushing back out.
I managed not to stub any toes going either direction.
One small miracle at a time.
I dropped them into his palm. “I parked it in the campground to the north of your land. It’s a white BMW SUV.”
“Is it your car?”
“No, it’s a rental. I didn’t want him to track me.”
“Good.”
A frown dented my brow. Cash seemed to get stuck on it, just staring at the spot, before he moved his head from side to side as if shaking himself out of something and strode for the door.
“I’ll get the things you need. You’re not going anywhere until I make sure it’s safe,” he directed as he disengaged the alarm and worked through the locks, and he didn’t look back before he stepped out then reset everything.
Turned out, my kids were totally right.
