Page 28 of Shep
Her eyes widened, even more freaked out than before. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re mine, Frankie Waller, and it’s finally time I took care of what’s mine.”
19
FRANKIE
There wasa houseful of Wilders and not one of them prevented Shep from taking me. He literally yanked me off the stool, tugged me out the back door, and tucked me into the passenger seat of his truck, going so far as to put my seatbelt on for me. Even Mrs. Wilder, who seemed quite kind and motherly, although I had no idea since all I could remember of mine was as a drug addict before she died. A normal mom like her would have stopped him, right?
Even Colt, a flipping sheriff, had stayed silent.
At least I wasn’t being driven off with him again. Leaving the shop, he’d put me in the front seat of hispatrol SUV, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t change his mind about arresting me, then started asking me questions. Like why I was sleeping in his brother’s shop.
He’d known my name right away, which meant Shep had told him about me. At first, I thought he was taking me to jail, but he’d driven right past the squat building with the flagpole out front and patrol cars in the lot. Then he went all quiet, which might’ve been even scarier.
“Come on in,” Shep said, pulling me from his garage into his kitchen. He kept holding my hand, probably thinking I was going to run off if he didn’t. He took off his shoes and set them to the side and I followed.
He flipped a switch for a sconce that illuminated an avocado green countertop. Knotty pine cabinets had decorative scalloped edges that continued to the window over the sink. It had white cafe curtains that offered some privacy, although the only things that peek in this far out in the country were elk, coyotes, and maybe an occasional bear.
We hadn’t gone back on the main road to get to Shep’s place, but continued further down the dirt drive from the other house. The porch light had been on and the small log cabin looked set in a snow globe winter wonderland.
I stepped into the kitchen after him and glanced around. Everything was neat. No dishes in the sink, only a single mug upside down in the drying rack. Nothing seemed to have been updated since the fifties or sixties except for a shiny new stove and a microwave tucked into the corner of the counter.
The kitchen, living area, and bedroom were all one large room. There were two doors to the left of the bed, which made me think one was a bathroom and the other a closet.
It was cozy. Simple. And smelled like Shep.
And we were all alone.
Me and Shep.
Shep and me.
The only way out of this was to tell the truth, admit what I did and hope he forgave me. I doubted he’d toss me out into the snow, so he might yell at me and fire me, but at least I’d be comfy and warm for the night.
“I’m sorry,” I said, turning to face him, tipping my chin up. He’d hired me. Given me a chance and I owed him an apology. I tried not to think about Saturday night and how it impacted all of this. Because Shep and I were very much alone.
After a second, he turned and faced me. Those whiskey eyes held mine. “Sorry? For what?”
I swallowed. Okay, he wanted me to spell it out. Like standing before a judge admitting to my sins.
I folded my fingers together in front of me. “I used your door code when I shouldn’t have to access your business.”
His eyebrows went up in unison. “That’s the kind of answer for Colt. I’m not the sheriff. Why, Frankie?”
I blinked. He hadn’t called me cherry like he often did and that hurt more than I expected. “It was cold. I was going to sleep in my car in the hotel parking lot. It’s got good lighting and in all the time I’ve worked there, never once heard of a break-in. But the weather turned. So–”
“Not that why,” he said, cutting me off. “You have three thousand dollars from Saturday night. I’m sure–”
“Six hundred,” I corrected.
He frowned. “Six hundred?”
I nodded. “Rocky gave us twenty percent.”
This time, his eyes widened, then narrowed into slits. “That fucking pimp.”
I cringed because that made me a prostitute. “Shep–”
