Page 5 of Trig
“We came upon you drivin’ home from dinner in town. You passed out in my arms. Want to tell me why you got out of your car in the first place?” He didn’t sound angry, but he did sound bothered, as if I’d done something wrong.
I glanced away, feeling–again–stupid. Because maybe I was. I had done something wrong, almost gotten myself killed. But the alternative?
Not happening.
“I ran out of gas,” I explained.
He cocked his head. “Ran out of gas?” he asked, as if the idea was ridiculous. Who ran out of gas? Me. That was who.
Did I check if the housekeeper’s car had a full tank when I snuck out and drove off before Father could marry me off to Mr. Trout since the man paid off his gambling debts instead of selling his land? No, I hadn’t.
Shame heated my cheeks. “It’s not my car and I wasn’t at home and… um, was in a rush. Plus, it wasn’t snowing that hard when I left.”
I knew now that the ranch that had been in my family for generations wasn’thome.
Trig stayed quiet, eyes still on mine. Waiting, which was slightly unnerving. He seemed to have a well of calm and patience.
I’d gotten a text from Mr. Trout while I’d been driving.
I will find you. I’ll make you pay for this stunt. You go to a hotel, I’ll make the manager pay for giving you a room. You go to a friend, I’ll make them pay for taking you in. You’re mine.
I’d been motivated by his words to keep going. The tone. The… evil. Except, it sputtered and stopped just as I told Trig. The car had died.
“I saw a light and thought it was a house, or at least shelter,” I added, hoping he didn’t think I was completely stupid. “I would have frozen if I stayed in the car.”
“You’d have frozen if we hadn’t come along, sugar,” he added, running a hand over the back of his neck, as if the idea bothered him.
I nodded, knowing how close I came to killing myself in my haste to get away from what I’d thought was my father finally wanting me in his life. Well, he had, but not for the naive reasons I thought when I left school and came to Montana.
“You’re right.” I met his dark gaze. “Thank you for saving me.”
“You said you were in a rush. Gotta be somewhere?” He sat by my hip, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.
This close, I could smell him. Mint and laundry detergent and probably pheromones, because I couldn’t look away. He had a little scar bisecting his right eyebrow and those lips looked full and kissable, even turned down like they were now.
Be somewhere? I had to be anywhere but at my father’s house, preferably miles and miles away. Another state. I had no idea what I was going to do now. I hadn’t been to Montana in over thirteen years. Forthirteen years,Father hadn’t wanted anything to do with me. My parents divorced when I was eight and my mother took me with her to Seattle for a fresh start.
Never heard from him again until a few weeks ago. Over the years, Mom had told me all kinds of shitty things about him, but she was a drunk and a schemer, so I never held much value to her words. Except when I returned last week, I discovered she’d actually been right for once. Besides being a chain smoker and having a heavy hand with whiskey, Lance Mann was a jerk. No, an asshole, who didn’t give a shit about me. Hell, he even greeted me as Ellen, which wasnotmy name.
I picked up quickly that he had cronies all over town. Mr. Trout, included. I was merely a pawn, a chip tossed into a poker game Father already lost. I’d dealt with all of Mom’s shitty boyfriends. The handsy ones. The ones who looked at me in a special way when I was too young to understand what it meant. The parade of men started when I was nine and only stopped when I moved out for college. I spent a shit ton of time at the public library. Reading and studying and staying out of the house and away from my mom, the men, the partying, the drinking and drugs.
“I was headed back to Seattle,” I admitted, although there hadn’t been a destination in mind when I’d run out. “I live there.”
Father and Mr. Trout would look for me but that city was really the onlyplace I knew.
His dark brow winged up. “Seattle? That’s a long way. Couldn’t it have waited until the storm stopped?”
I shrugged and told him the truth. “I didn’t know it was going to be so bad. I know you must think me stupid.”
He reached out, tucked my hair behind my ear and I bit my lip so I didn’t whimper. No, moan. My gaze flicked up to meet his. My cheeks got hot.
The touch was gentle. A caress, yet I felt it all the way to my toes. And my nipples. An ache formed between my legs.
I sucked in a breath and I picked up his clean scent. Soap and man. My heart started to race. His fingertips were rough, but gentle. Warm. Without thinking, I tilted my head into the touch.
“Reckless, perhaps.” He hadn’t let go of the ends of my hair, his fingers rubbing over it, his eyes on his task. “Want to tell me your name?”
My name. Shit.
