Page 52 of Rafe: Sins of the Father

“I’m not being a bitch. You started it.”

“Right. I’ve got to drop what I’m doing to give you a ride to… where the hell are we going?”

“White Lotus Salon.”

“What the hell is that? You getting a massage or something?”

“It’s none of your business.”

I ignore her and hit the little voice command button on the steering wheel. “Take me to White Lotus Salon.”

The navigation system pops up on the screen.

We don’t speak the rest of the way. When I pull up at the curb and she starts to climb out, I lean over.

“What time am I supposed to pick you up?”

“Whenever I’m done. I don’t know how long it will take.”

She stalks around the front of the car, and I power down my window.

“Hey…”

She stops and looks at me.

“You’re not cutting your hair, are you?”

“Why?”

“I like it long.”

Her anger seems to deflate at my comment, her tight shoulders relaxing. Before one of us can say something stupid and ruin the moment, I power the window up and pull away.

She’s got my number. I made sure of that the morning she woke up in my arms. Now she’s got to use it.

I return to the mill and give Sawyer his keys back, and he gives me the keys to Tori’s car. Then I head up the hill to change her tire. I bring the device I still had in my saddlebag with me and sweep her car again, but thankfully find nothing.

Two hours later, I get a text from Tori. Just two words. Our first text, and I smile.

Tori: I’m ready

Oh, baby girl, I wish you were.

I head across town and double park in front of the salon and text her back.

Me: Your chariot awaits, princess.

God, I wish I was texting her those words and really meaning I was out here on my Harley, waiting for her to climb on the back. The vision sticks in my head as I watch the door. Finally, it opens, and she walks to the car. She approaches my driver’s side.

“Let me drive.”

“Nuh uh. Go around.”

“This is my car.”

“And I was told to drive you, so that’s what I’m doing. Now get in the car, Tori, or do I need to get out and put you in it?”

Her brow lifts. “Put me in it?”

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