Page 7 of Sweet Heat

Chapter Four

The second hand on my watch ticks, moving with sharp clicks that echo around my car. The noise is irritating, but I don’t dare drown it out by filling the space with music. No. I need to focus least I miss her exit.

A small silver sedan pulls up to the curb, parking in front of the building, then puts on hazards so the red lights blink rapidly in the dark night.

Where is she?

Gripping my phone until the metal groans, I use my other hand to frantically pull up my locator app. I’m finally able to breathe when I see the blue dot still blinking inside the building.

“Where are you, Puff? You’re never going to make it for curfew.” My eyes water as they remain trained on the door, waitingto see her come running out with exasperation on her face. That girl hates her 10 p.m. curfew, but she’s so sweet-spirited and kind-hearted that she never misses it. Posie never wants to cause her parents any stress, so she goes along with their manipulation.

Personally, I love it. Knowing she needs to be home at a certain time every night. It helps me keep track of her, keep her safe. Or as safe as she can be until I make her mine.

Only a few minutes late, Posie runs from the building in a whir of long brown hair. She must have taken her braid out after the game, and it flies behind her now in a silky cloud caught by the wind. Without hesitation, she jumps into the sedan, and my heart pounds, roaring in my ears.

“You didn’t even check they were your ride. Gonna get that ass spanked if you ever do it again, baby girl.” Growling, I shift out of park and peel down the street after them, determined not to let that stupid silver car out of my sight.

Adrenaline floods my veins, as it always does, while I stalk my girl. I wish I could be the one driving her, but after I just ‘happened’ to be around to offer her rides too many times, she started getting surly and suspicious. If Posie figures out I’m tracking her, it’ll be game over. And if she tells her parents…

A shudder twists down my spine, but I can’t dwell on what-ifs. My eyes squint, focusing on the road ahead and those red taillights. They better go straight to her house. No detours, and if the driver gets any funny ideas, they’ll find themselves on the other side of my fist.

I may not be able to claim her, but I protect what’s mine.

The vehicle turns down an unfamiliar street, and an angry snarl rips from my throat.

What are they doing?

After ripping the wheel to the left, I follow more closely than I should. The leather on my steering wheel protests against my steely grip. Fortunately, at the next right, the driver turns, bringing us back on course to the Moore family residence.

Sweat trickles down my temples. All this stress will bring me to an early grave.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the car pulls up to the curb outside Posie’s house, and she hops out, bending with a smile to thank the driver.

Stop standing outside in the dark.

My nerves are fucking shot to hell, so I turn off the engine and take a minute to calm the shaking of my hands—my whole damn body, if I’m being honest. Puff prances up the stairs, then stops, peering into the night as if she can feel my presence. Her eyes dart around, and I wait, hoping she’ll see me, but also praying she doesn’t. Trembling slightly, she pulls her house key from her pocket and twists it into the lock. The door hinges open, and with a last glance in my direction, she darts inside.

Home safe.

A harsh ringing suddenly screams through my SUV, the speaker crackling from the noise and causing me to jump. Owen’s name glows on the dashboard to signal an incoming call, so I tap the button on the steering wheel to connect.

“What?” I ask, without preamble.

“Jeez, man, grumpy much?” His laugh filters through the speakers, and I glare at it, not in the mood for his teasing as I come down from the adrenaline rush.

Instead of answering, I wait in silence, knowing he won’t hold out for long.

“Fuck, fine. The team is celebrating our victory at The Wet Hole tonight. Come down.” His words are more demand than request, making my Alpha bristle, but a drink sounds good since my only other option is to head back to my empty apartment. He may not be the Moore I want right now, but he’s the one I’m gonna get. “Those assholes who were hassling Posie just walked in.”

And sold.

“I’ll take another,” I say, tossing down some crumpled bills to get the bartender’s attention. Most of the baseball team is out, drinking, carousing, and having women fawn over them. Yeah, we crushed the Lakeland Lions today—it was a great home opener, but even if we had lost, my mood would be the same.

Ready for violence.

My eyes scan the room for my prey as I snag the beer and slip silently through the crowd toward the booth Owen commandeered at the back.

“Oh, my God! You’re Miller Phillips! You’re the hottest player on the team,” a bottle-blonde squeals, throwing her arms around my neck. The cloying scent of weak raspberry tea fills my nostrils, and it takes everything in me not to rip her off and throw herclear across the room. No woman touches me. Ever. I belong to Posie and Posie alone.

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