Page 32 of Live for Me

He seemed unbothered, unzipping it and turning to face my spring and summer section, grabbing four or more items at time; dresses, skirts, t-shirts, and even my damn raincoat, shoving them into the bag. He grunted as his eyes dropped to the floor, searching for something among my shoes. When he didn’t find it, he looked at me and warned, “Abbie, if you got rid of the fucking boots I bought you, I’m taking you over my fucking knee right here and now.”

My mouth dropped open as something curled low in my belly. “What did you just say to me?” I breathed out.

At this point, I was half convinced I was still sleeping, and this was all some weird, twisted dream. My alarm would be going off any minute, waking me up, and I’d never have to think about the blue-eyed cowboy pounding on my door in the rain again.

He closed the distance between us again, forcing me to back up against my accessory wall. “Where are the fucking boots I bought you?” he growled.

“They’re in the mudroom at the back of the house,” I whispered, heat building in my cheeks as I felt another curl low in my belly, a flicker of desire humming between my thighs.

“They fucking better be,” he clipped.

Why did he care so much about a pair of old boots?

Beau’s blue eyes dropped down to my bare legs and I swear I thought that, for the second time tonight, time decided to stop. The heat in my cheeks grew and I brought my ankles together, my hands tugging at the bottom of my t-shirt. His eyes flicked up to the center of the shirt, his face unreadable. Then, without a word, he turned and left the closet—shutting me inside.

“Beau!” I cried out, running to the door and twisting the knob. I pounded my fist against it. “Beau, let me out!”

“Stay there. I have to get your boots,” he stated. Not even a second later, I heard him going down the hall.

My hands shot up to my hair. “This has to be a dream,” I whispered. “Some fucked up dream.”

I got down to my hands and knees, peeking under the door to find that he’d put the old antique chair from my vanity underneath the knob. I let out a scream of frustration, shouting his name and cursing his family all in one sentence. I heard him come back a minute later, followed by the sounds of my dresser drawers being opened and closed.

“I assume you’ll want your laptop,” he said.

My hands were still in my hair, and I was very tempted to yank it out. “Beau, I swear to the heaven’s above—”

“None of that shit is going to work on me,” he returned from the other side of the door, his voice closer. I heard a small thump and decided to get back to cursing his name and family. Maybe then he would leave me the hell alone—like he should have in the first place. I was in the middle of my second curse when the door was pulled open, and all the air left my lungs.

Beau had my boots in one hand, my—packed—weekender over that shoulder, and his hat was back on his head. He jerked his head. “Get some pants on and let’s go.”

Now it was my turn to laugh, the sound shocking me. “Are you kidding me?” I screeched. “What part of ‘I’m not going anywhere’ do you not understand?”

“All of it,” he answered simply, “because you are.”

I planted my feet and folded my arms over my chest. “No, I’m not.”

Chapter Eight

Beau

“No, I’m not.”

Fucking Christ.

Her determination, her spite, and her stubbornness were some of the things I’d missed most about her. Even now, as she tested my patience, I couldn’t help but be in awe of her.

My strong, resilient wildflower.

The entire drive here, I felt like there was knife in my gut, twisting each time I thought about her stalker.

Abbie had a stalker.

Someone who had been terrorizing her for years.

During the drive, I reached out to Red Snake Investigations, needing to know the full story. When Ash picked up the phone, he knew what to give me before I even asked. He’d played back the recording of the phone call, letting me hear how she tried to play off.As if having a stalker wasn’t a big deal.

I listened to her anxious ramble, the fear in her voice torturing me in ways I’d never thought possible. When it was done, Ash told me he’d done some digging, giving me her last two addresses and the police report from when she was living in her apartment. The stalker had been there too, and when she called the police, they showed up, took a few pictures and that was that. They couldn’t help her.

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