Page 16 of The Wrong Drive-
Chapter 6
Emersyn
Something iswrong with this man. Big wrong.
I have no idea who he is, but my instincts are screaming that I’mnotsafe here. Shivering from the cool draft of the open bathroom door, I step out of the shower and wrap my towel around myself. I don’t know his name. I don’t know if I evenwantto know his name.
I just want to get the fuck out of here.
But the winds continue to howl as I dry off and get dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a black sweater. I run a brush through my towel dried locks and ensure the rest of my makeup is gone from my face. I have no desire tobedesirable to this man. I just want to be invisible. Maybethatis the ticket to making it out.
Maybe this is how Belle felt in the castle with the beast.
I purse my lips at the elementary analogy, and then hang the damp towel on the rack. I put all of my things back in my bag, ensuring that I leave nothing behind. Maybe he’ll let me stay in a spare room…and then I’ll never come out.
Nodding to myself at that scenario, I sling my bag over my shoulder and take a deep breath. Fear and apprehension pulse through my veins as I emerge from the bathroom, stepping intothe dark bedroom. He’s not there, and for some reason, that’s all the more unnerving. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
I just wish I wouldn’t have come here at all.But there’s no point in dwelling on the fucking past and my stupid decisions. I’d thought all this time that Adam and I’s holiday getaway might be an actual fix. It was a joke, and really, maybe I knew it all along.
My bare feet creak across the floors as I start down the hallway. I squint in the dim light. My stomach lurches violently as I remember the man seeing me naked through the glass.
Would he hurt me? Well, I mean, beyond shooting my hand and knocking me unconscious.
A chill rolls down my spine, and I continue forward. Lingering in the hallway seems dangerous—like he might jump from the shadows and grab me. I step into the living room, passing what I assume is the back door. The glass is covered with a curtain. All the windows have large blackout curtains.
Maybe he’s just paranoid. Or fucking psychotic.
Yeah, I’m going with the latter.
“I’m making dinner.” A voice startles me, and I jump sideways, slamming my shoulder into the wall. He doesn’t react to my jerky movement, and his stone-cold demeanor is fucking terrifying.
“I have the granola bars.” I nod to my bag. “I don’t want to impose. Actually,” I pause, meeting his deep, gray eyes. “I was thinking if you have a spare room, I can just stay there. You’ll never know I’m here, then when things clear up, I’ll be out of your hair. Give me a shovel and I’ll dig my way out.” I let out a stilted laugh, and he, once again, doesn’t react in his facial expression.
“Mm,” he grunts. “You can eat dinner.”
I hesitate, tempted to repeat myself but hold off. “Okay. Can I put my things somewhere?”
He nods to the place by the door. “Back where I set them.”
“But it’s blocking the door,” I reason. “I can put them in a spare?—”
“I don’t have a spare room for your use,” he snaps, cutting me off. “Set the bag by the door.” His harsh tone silences me, and I merely nod, ducking away and walking past him.
I set my duffle back on top of my hard suitcase and drop my shoulders as I push the bags against the outer wall. He’s forcing me to be in his sight. All the fucking time. I glance back over my shoulder, noticing the kitchen light is on with a pan on the stove.
It gives me a better view of him, and I see his muscular form clad in a worn out henley and black sweats. His physique is attractive, and his dark hair is clean cut, longer on the top with a fade. So, he might be psychotic, but at least he cuts his hair?
He turns to me, and I drop my gaze away. “I don’t have a lot of variety.”
I run my tongue over my bottom lip, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “That’s okay,” I say, assuming he’s talking about food. His expression shifts slightly, and I catch my breath at thealmostsoftness in his gaze. He appears embarrassed or…guilty?
Regardless, it draws out his handsome features. A strong nose and jawline. Deeper set eyes and dark brows. His hair has a tinge of gray, and I wonder how much older than me he is. Notthatmuch. Regardless, he’s attractive. I hadn’t noticed it in the shadows. I swallow hard, hating how it goes straight to my core.
“You can sit at the table while I finish,” he gestures to a small round breakfast table tucked off the kitchen by windows with more curtains covering them. There are two chairs, and I opt for the one that faces him. I run my fingertips across the smooth dark grain as I try to keep my breaths steady, my heart racing. I’m going to give myself a fucking heart attack if I can’t get control of it.
He returns to the stove and throws two steaks into the pan. He then grabs another pan and a sealed bag from the freezer. I watch him in the plain light, wondering how someone, who appears increasingly more handsome by the moment, could be so incredibly terrifying.
“You’re from Oklahoma?” he asks, not looking at me as he speaks.
