Page 37 of Looking Grimm

Nash reached across the center console and squeezed my knee. “Don’t scare me like that again, okay?”

“I scaredyou?” I snorted. “If you’d given those dogs another second, they would’ve ripped your fucking arms off.”

He arched a ginger brow. “Were you worried?”

“Yes, I was worried!”

A smile teased his lips. “Cute.”

My heart thrashed inside my ribs, and I recalled the whiskey pinned between my thighs. The cracking sound as I unscrewed the lid drew Nash’s attention.

His look of interest shifted immediately to one of scorn. “You can’t be serious.”

I thrust my hand toward him. “Hi, my name is Fitch. I have a problem.”

He nodded. “Admittance is the first step.” Rather than accept my offered shake, he made a grab for the bottle. “Quitting is the second. Hand it over.”

I snatched the whiskey back, clasping it to my chest. “I nearly died for this.”

“Which says a lot about you,” he quipped.

“Nothing you don’t already know.”

He chuckled.

When we’d put enough distance between us and the cops, Nash flipped on the headlights. We drove past farmland and fields, sticking to back roads on our way to an unknown destination. I finished opening the whiskey and took a sip. I paid for quantity, not quality, and I suffered forit now. But I wouldn’t give Nash the satisfaction of seeing me gag on the stuff, so I gritted my teeth through a hard swallow.

I should have thanked him for saving my ass. Or gushed about how sexy he’d looked hurling a magical Molotov cocktail at the trio of shapeshifters ready to run me down. At least, it would have been sexy if I hadn’t been too caught up in PTSD panic to appreciate it.

Rather than doing either of those things, I sat silent, fueling that quiet I hated so much until I asked at last, “Where are we going?”

“Joyriding for now,” Nash said. “Making sure we didn’t pick up a tail.” He reached over again and caught my hand in his. “After that, I’m taking you home.”

By the time wepulled up to the detached garage outside the Bitters’ End, all sense of excitement had worn off, and I was drowsy. Nash tugged on my hand, calling my attention to the closed overhead door before us.

“You mind?” he asked.

I grunted affirmation and searched for the handle on the lower corner of the door. With it in my sights, I telekinetically took hold and rolled the door upward on its track so the Woody Wagon could proceed into the small building.

Beside us, Donovan’s Bronco sat where it had remained unmoved for the past month. My brother’s keys were on a hook on the nearby wall, similarly untouched. I fixed my eyes on the liquor bottle trapped between my legs while mulling over Nash’s statement about bringing me home and realizing how much I wanted that.

But the Everett twins waited at the hotel, one of many secrets I was keeping from the man who’d just rescued me. I didn’t get to quit, rest, or gohome. Not yet.

With the wagon in park, Nash turned off the ignition. I drew the door down, bathing the garage in pitch black. I stayed put, in no hurry to leave this car or this place despite knowing I had to.

I waited until Nash came around and opened my door. He bent into my line of sight and offered a hand up.

“You still with me, Trouble?” he asked.

Tipping my head toward him, I flashed a weary smile. “Never left.”

I clasped his hand and stood, dragging the whiskey along as I bumped gently into his chest. When I tried to right myself, he pulled me close and shifted us both down the side of the wagon. His step toward me eased his leg between mine and pushed me back against the car.

“You know, you still owe me that date,” he said.

Recalling the night of Holland’s engagement, when Nash and I had danced in the bar and I’d asked him if he thought I could be a hero, struck pain in my heart. It felt like a different lifetime, so far removed from the here and now I could barely fathom it. It had been silly to imagine myself as the good guy in any story, and equally silly to propose a romantic outing like we were some kind of couple.

Sorrow pulled at my features, but I said nothing as Nash released my hand and planted his palms on either side of me, caging me in. It was too dark to see well, but the feel and smell of him was enough to make my stomach flip.

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