Page 10 of Hooked on Marshall

I nod and pull out my phone. My mother answers on the first ring. I tell her that I’m fine but also exhausted.

“Do you want us to come pick you up?” she asks.

“Um…”

“You can stay with me,” Marshall whispers. “I’m only five minutes away from the Alehouse.”

“No, mom,” I say through a yawn. “One of the other employees is going to let me crash with them.”

“Are you sure baby?”

“Yeah, mom,” I sigh. “There’s no way I can drive, and I don’t think I’d last long enough for you to come get me anyway.”

After several more minutes of reassurances, she tells me she loves me and signs off. At that point, we’re back at the Alehouse. Marshall and I thank Jace for the ride. Then I’m helped out of Jace’s vehicle and into Marshall’s Jeep. I let my head fall back on the seat. The next thing I know, Marshall is undoing my seatbelt. I practically fall into his arms I’m so tired. After he shuts his Jeep and locks up, he carries me one last time into his home.

Once inside, things happen in a blur. I’m laid in a bed. Then I’m moved around quite a bit until I’m under a soft blanket. I start to protest about sleeping in my work clothes, but my brain registers that I’m only wearing a soft cotton shirt. More concerned about comfort and sleep, I don’t even wonder how that happened.

And just before I slip off, I swear I feel someone press a soft kiss to my forehead.

I sigh and breathe a name.

“Marshall.”

Nine

After I kiss her forehead, she breathes my name.

My heart clenches in my chest. And my cock thickens once again. I sigh and brush my fingers over her cheek before turning off the beside lamp and leaving the room.

What I need is a cold shower. While I was already attracted to her physical appearance, getting her out of her work clothes and into one of my old t-shirts only compounded that attraction. And added to my mental list of things I want to do to her. With her.Forher. To make her come and screammy name.

NotJonas’.

I scrub my hand over my face and bite back a growl of frustration. I have absolutely no claim to this woman. At all. And while I had my suspicions that it was a man who was giving her trouble, seeing proof of that when she left her message thread open after setting her phone on the hospital bed damn near sent me into a fit of rage.

Jonas.

And old flame of some sort based on his desire to reconnect with her. Not that I can blame him, but if his contact with her now is what’s causing her pain, then I hope she rebuffs him. What’s more, I’d love nothing more than to become a part of her life so I can be the one to handle him. A smile lights my face at the thought. While I’m not a physical person by nature, running a bar does require some basic knowledge of how to defend yourself and handle others when necessary.

Like tonight.

“Shit.”

The memory of that fucktard carrying Lana off to do God-knows-what with her is something that I won’t soon forget.No matter how much I wish I could. Frustrated again and knowing I won’t sleep anytime soon, I head to the kitchen in my small house and pour myself some whiskey. At first, I stand on my back deck while I sip it. Enjoying the cool fall air and the rustle of the trees in the breeze. Eventually, though, I end up in the doorway of my spare bedroom.

Watching Lana sleep.

She’s supposed to work tomorrow, but I already asked Jace to call someone in to cover for her. I don’t want her on her feet all day. Not after working a double today and ending up in the hospital with injuries. Thank God they were minor.

Sometime past one in the morning, I wash up and crawl into bed after making sure everything is locked up. My sleep is restless at best. I’m up before seven, but Lana looks to still be sleeping peacefully. Wanting, no,needingto do more for her, I decide to make some breakfast. Then I curse when I realize I have no food because I just moved in on Friday. I stew for a few minutes before I remember that another high school friend of mine owns a small diner a few blocks away. I search it up and make a call to see if they deliver. Luckily, Thomas is the one that answers.

“Hey, man,” I say. “Marshall Jones.”

“Marshall,” he laughs. “I hear your back in town.”

“That I am,” I tell him. “And I hate to do this so soon, but I need a favor.”

“Name it.”

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