Page 54 of Prince Charming

She still sometimes expected to see one of theBratvamen around every corner to take her back to a nightmare.

Fear was manageable when it lurked only in her mind.

“What do you want from me, Luke?” She asked, at the same time he pulled a white fluffy wool hat down on her head until it covered most of her hair and her ears.

His thoughtfulness was beautiful and almost brought tears to her eyes.

“Heavy question. Ready for the answer? Once you know means you can’t run away, get me?”

Was she ready?

His steady gaze told her exactly what he wanted, and it was more than to get into her panties for a fast fumble.

She could blame it on being starved of human contact.

But it was more than that.

Being a victim made her angry. She hated self-pity more than anything. How fucking tragic she’d bowed her will to the hands of idiots when she saw no way out.

How would Tag react when he knew her whole pathetic story?

He’d probably think she was stupid too.

“There you go, thinking loudly again,” hooking up her hand, he clasped it.

He led her across the street to where his big truck was parked in a private spot.

“You still can’t believe I enjoy your company? Or I like doing stuff for you just because I like it, not ‘cause I’m getting anything from it.”

“It’s not as though I chat your head off.” She said, somewhat shamed.

“When you speak, it means something, darlin’. I like your accent and how you soak up conversations and then learning the meaning of words if you don’t understand. You laugh at our butchered phrases.”

Nose wrinkled. “I don’t always understand them.”

“That’s what’s cute as fuck.”

Tenderness seeped through the thickness of her coat. Against her protective conviction, she smiled and gave a piece of herself to him, “I enjoy your company too, Prince Charming.”

His eyes flared, and she was sure he was going to kiss her there on the street. Instead, he grunted and helped her into the truck. Then heard him muttering, “fucking trouble, this one,” as he rounded the hood and climbed in too.

Tag drove to a supermarket, shoving a cart at her with an instruction to fill it with canned goods, snacks, and fresh meat.

“I don’t need groceries, Luke,” she insisted, knowing he rarely listened when he brought sacks of food to stock her fridge. A hand curled around her nape as he tossed many packages of cookies in the cart. His sweet tooth was showing.

“This isn’t for you.”

Oh. “For your MC?”

“Nah, darlin’. The house mouse sees to that.”

The who? He grinned at her confusion, “fucking cute. A MC house mouse is someone who takes care of the clubhouse. Like a housekeeper.”

The cart was bulging in no time.

“Then who is it for?”

“We’re taking it to the local kids’ shelter, they run out of shit like this fast.”

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