Page 24 of Deacon

He keeps his eyes on the road, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his harsh mouth.

“I won’t,” he says.

We’re both quiet then. The windshield wipers are loud. I don’t know how he can see, even with them. The rain is coming down so hard, it’s difficult to make out anything past the hood of the truck.

I’m warming slowly with the blanket wrapped up to my chin and the heat blasting. Now that I’m not shivering, I can think more clearly. Yes, I’m afraid, but I also have to be reasonable about this. He’s our neighbor, not a stranger. If he was going to hurt me, he would have done it on the back road by the creek.

I can reasonably conclude he doesn’t intend to.

My eyes keep drifting over to him.

He has a dark magnetic energy, a raw sexuality. Maybe it's confidence. I follow the curve of his broad shoulder down his forearm to where the sleeve is rolled. His thick arm is wrapped in ink to the tips of his fingers. I let my gaze linger, going further down to his belt.

Heat curls in my lower belly, shocking me.

Am I turned on by him?

I shake my head once, forgetting he can see, but he doesn’t turn his head. He just keeps driving with a slight frown set on his face. My stare goes right back where it left off—right to the bend of his wrist, his fingers hanging loose over the top of the steering wheel.

His hands are very…attractive. I’ve never taken the time to think about hands as something erotic, but now, despite everything, I’m having a physical reaction.

I’m just stressed out.

We come to a quick halt, snapping me out of my daydream. I blink, and the windshield wipers swish.

My jaw drops.

There’s a tree across the road, broad and long, barely illuminated by his headlights. There’s no getting around it or dragging it out of the way. The trunk alone comes up to the grill of his truck.

“Goddamn,” he says under his breath.

I sit up straighter. “What’s that mean? Is there another way back?”

He shakes his head, jaw set. “Not until the water drops..”

I shake my head. “What… Can we just cut it back?”

He smiles, one corner of his mouth jerking up. “No, I don’t have anything to cut it back with. You got one option, sweetheart, and you’re not gonna like it.”

My stomach sinks.

“Walk,” I whisper.

“No, you’re not walking home in the dark in a storm,” he says. “You come back with me. You can take one of the guest rooms. In the morning, I’ll come down, assess the damage.”

A heavy gust of wind shakes the car. It’s so dark, I can’t see anything out of my window. He shifts in his seat, and my mind goes to the gun in the glove box. I take a deep, shivery breath.

“Are you the only one who lives there?” I whisper.

“Not on site. I’m the only one in the house, but I have live-in employees next door,” he says.

I chew my lips. He shifts the truck in reverse and spins the wheel with his palm until we’re facing back where we came. He accelerates without waiting for my reply. At this point, I don’t think it matters what my answer is. He’s asking me as a courtesy.

We’re going to Ryder Ranch whether I want to or not.

“So what do you do, huh?”

He’s talking casually, like he’s got no other mode. I clear my throat, trying to match how unbothered he is, and failing.

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