Page 23 of Becoming His Pet

Chapter Nine

Greg had never beenso thankful for twenty-four-hour stores before in his life. Nora had finally fallen asleep around two in the morning, after several more hours of tossing and turning and grumbling to herself.

He hadn’t gone into the bedroom after she stormed out of the living room, casting him to the couch. An argument wouldn’t get her to sleep, and it would only fuel his desire to strap her down and make her answer his questions honestly.

Once he was sure she was sound asleep, he scribbled a note about where he was going, locked up the cabin, and headed into town.

By the time he pulled back up to the cabin, the sun had started to rise. No time to admire the coloring of the sky, though. He needed to get the food inside. A handful of chips and a beer didn’t really count as a meal. And if he was hungry, she had to be as well.

Nora still slept when he checked on her. Sleeping on her side, one arm flung over her face while the other was tucked under the quilt. Her hair had dried into curls and they were cascading over her face. She looked a mess.

Even more beautiful than the day before.

With a shake of his head to get his mind back on track, he closed the door and went back to putting the groceries away. He’d bought her some shorts and T-shirts, and he’d give them to her after she apologized for her behavior last night.

He might not be able to spank her for her actions, but he sure as hell wouldn’t just allow them to pass either.

Pausing as he put the jar of applesauce in the pantry, he cursed at himself. He sounded like someone invested. And he wasn’t supposed to be getting invested. He was supposed to be finding her a safe house, somewhere to hide out until it all blew over. Not with him.

He wasn’t equipped to protect anyone.

Finishing putting everything away, he grabbed his phone to call Blake. He needed that name, a number. Hell, maybe he should ask John to come home and take care of the situation.

Three missed calls from Blake.

“Hey, what’s up? You’re up early.” Greg looked at the digital clock on the stove. Nearly six.

“So, after you left yesterday, I did some digging. Called in a few favors to get some intel for you.”

Greg leaned his hip against the counter. His brother would never stop being the big brother, not matter how old Greg got.

“Did you find me someone who can help get her somewhere safe?” Greg countered. That’s what he needed to do, stick to his original plan, not dig himself deeper in the hole with her. Besides, she was nothing but trouble.

“She is somewhere safe. She’s with you.” Blake’s flat tone grated on Greg.

“Blake—”

“Do you really want me to call John? He’ll come home but it will take at least a day.” John rarely took vacations; calling him home for something he could handle himself would be selfish.

Completely selfish.

“Yes. I do.” Greg nodded to himself. “No. Of course not.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He should have never knocked on that fucking flower store door. He should have seen it was locked and just kept walking.

It had been her.

Seeing her through the window, sitting at the counter looking so fucking—well, fuckable.

“What did you find out?”

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