Page 42 of Love Me, I Dare You

“Jase, give the man your keys. My daughter isn’t safe on that deathtrap.” Jase obeys, coming over to us and handing me his keys. He extends a hand out, waiting for me to drop my keys in his, but I’m reluctant to leave old Daisy here.

“Keys,” he says with a wide grin. He knows damn well I’d never let him drive my bike.

With no other option, I pull the keys out of the ignition and drop them into his hand. “Don’t you dare touch her,” I warn, and he lifts a brow in question. He quickly realizes what I mean, and his smile drops.

“Same to you, brother,” he mutters, so only I can hear him and I get the message loud and clear.Don’t touch Bailey.

That’s the plan, brother. If only I could get my dick to understand.

Chapter Seventeen

Nash

The twenty-four-hour community hospital in downtown Crossroads was a small clinic with no more than ten exam rooms and twenty in-patient rooms. The larger Colton County General hospital was a twenty-minute drive to the neighboring town of Rivers Bend, but this, according to Bailey, was not a life or death emergency. I agreed, but I never had the best experience with the town hospital, so was reluctant to accept to bring her here instead. Maybe because I was in here more times than not when I was younger, meaning I wasn't eager to be back.

The sterile white walls still haunted me with gruesome memories projecting on the wall like a film reel on repeat.

From broken ribs caused by one-to-many kicks to the ground by Franklin just for living in his house when he didn’t want me, to the broken arm I’d gotten for punching a hole through my wall—instead of my father’s cowardly face—the first night I saw him lay a hand on my mother. Needing stitches on my face from one of the many brawls I’d started with the prissy cowboys back in school—who could talk the talk but couldn’t for the life of thempack a punch. I’d even gotten shot once by Old Man Carraway, who lived down the road from my family’s farm and had the scar on my shoulder to prove it. That one I’ll admit I deserved, for sneaking into his home one night and spending it in his niece's bed.

The hospital lobby looked no different from then, with stark white walls and countertops, a few rows of chairs upholstered with some tacky blue and gray checkered pattern, and a wooden reception counter which extended the entire back wall. Behind the Plexi glass border sat Millie Dawson, the same receptionist who’d worked here for over forty years alongside her husband, Dr. Ray Dawson, the hospital’s leading physician.

There was stack upon stack of medical records kept in the various locker-like cabinets behind the reception desk. The Dawson’s were old school that way, and Ray Dawson trusted technology as much as he trusted men to stay away from his three daughters. I hadn’t seen the triplets since I’d left, but they were almost always in here when I’d come in.

Raven, Rayleigh and Reyna were their names. They were no older than ten when I last saw them, but I could imagine that fact about him hadn’t changed. Millie was a beautiful woman, even at the ripe age of sixty-five. She had dark hair, now more gray than black, and these bright green eyes that looked at you like they deeply understood every ounce of your pain.

I could only imagine their girls grew up to take after their mother’s beauty. Ray adored his daughters—and he wasn’t a bad-looking fucker either. Makes sense since it took him and his wife years to conceive them. They were both over forty when the girls were born and Millie had long accepted the fact she’d never be a mother, which I think was why she enjoyed working here so much. She could mother all of Crossroads for the rest of her life and it would be enough.

I only knew all of this because of the countless times I sat in the very seat across her desk I occupied earlier today as we awaited Bailey’s turn to see the doc. But the love wasn’t one-sided. Crossroads adored the beloved doctor and his wife, and to this day, they were the only two people the townsfolk trusted with their care.

The attentive care which Dr. Dawson gave Bailey tonight was like anything I’d ever witnessed. I forget sometimes how much her family is revered in this town. Even now that she claims to be different, the town and its people continue to treat her like royalty.

While my family is the trash they’ve been waiting years to take out. Lucky for me, the hospital was nearly empty tonight, so I didn't have to spend all night reliving my time here as a kid. There were no more than a handful of residents with bad stomach bugs, the flu, and one younger kid who broke his arm climbing the old willow tree down by the fairgrounds. He reminded me of myself, or at least the lies I used to tell when my mama would bring me in with a broken rib and I’d have to lie about how I got it.

Usually it was the same story. I was a troublesome boy who was always up to no good and climbing to places I had no business being. It was never the truth—that I’d done nothing more than come home from school and look for the foodhebought, withhismoney, he kept inhisrefrigerator, inhishouse.

However, tonight wasn’t about me. It was for Bailey, who luckily had nothing more than a sprained ankle, which required a thin bandage and rest. I choked a laugh out at the last part when Dr. Dawson prescribed she stay off her feet completely for a couple of days, and then take it easy for another week. They both stared at me with equally annoyed expressions—Bailey pissed I knew her so well, and the doc surely angry I was mocking his professional care and advice.

She’s lucky it was nothing too serious, and the swelling had already gone down significantly, but I knew the woman wouldn’t sit still for more than the five hours she slept at night.

It’s nearly ten o’clock at night when we’re driving back to the apartment, the full moon illuminating the entire sky in a bright gleam, which falls over Crossroads like a blanket of tranquility. It’s a clear night, bright stars flickering in the sky. The roads are empty, just me and the beautiful angel fast asleep beside me.

I look to my right as we pull into the parking spot back at the bar and find her breathing soundly, as she rests her head against the window of her brother’s truck. Bailey looks incredibly peaceful and delicate under the bright neon lights of the bar sign coming in through the window. This is the girl I remember, the innocent, kind-hearted, and shy girl I couldn’t help but be drawn to. I’d stayed away from her, not only because of our ages, but because I knew she was too darn good for me, though that didn’t stop the way being near her nearly took my breath away.

Something inside me twinges as the reminder of why she changed invades my thoughts.

Shutting off the engine, I exit the brand new Ford F250 Super Duty in the perfect shade of midnight blue, thinking I may end up keeping the thing for myself, and walk over to the passenger side door, opening it and leaning over to unbuckle her. Bailey lets out a soft groan as I shove my hands under her thighs and scoop her up into my arms.

“Nash,” she moans, snuggling deeper into the crook of my neck, her arms wrapping around me and making my dick dangerously hard. Just a small touch and the woman has me nearly coming in my jeans like a fucking amateur. Though you can’t really blame me. Bailey smells incredible, the silk of her dress so smooth in between my fingertips as I grip her tight, careful not to let my fingers roam to the places they ache to touch. To the places that will surely ruin me if I do.

I don’t say a word the whole walk through the parking lot, or as we enter the bar and head up the stairs to the apartment, afraid of waking her and ruining this moment of peace between us. Since the day I arrived, there’s been nothing but an angst-riddled tension when Bailey and I are in the same room. The hatred she feels toward me is nearly palpable, though today, I felt a crack in the hard exterior she’s grown into since the day I walked away.

If only for a moment, she didn’t look at me like I ruined all the good in her, as if I didn’t hurt her in the worst way.

Monty’s words come back to me as I unlock the door with my key and step inside, heading directly into the bedroom. I set her down on her bed, only after removing the eight pillows leaned up against the headboard and tossing them on the ground. Of course, the woman has all these pillows. It’s no wonder she can never sleep.

Careful not to wake her, I cautiously slip her jacket off and toss it to the floor beside the pillows. I should wake her, walk out of the room and let her figure out how she’s planning on getting out of this dress, but I’m too selfish to walk away again. I want to see the flush color of her skin as I slide the straps off her shoulders and watch the delicate silk slither down her curves until it’s pooled in a blanket of red at her feet.

Walking over toward a dresser to my right, I open the first drawer looking for a t-shirt to slip over her, but that’s definitely not what I find. Reaching inside, I pull out a sexy as fuck black lace thong with matching bra that makes my mouth fucking water just picturing the luxurious lace against her smooth, alabaster skin. My fingers tighten into a grip and they ache to feel the lace on her body, gripping on tight to those thick thighs and that plump ass she loves to flaunt my way. I want to bite into her skin, mark it the way I should have ten years ago, so she’dnever forget me the way she claims she has. But I can’t do any of that without a colossal domino effect of epic proportions.

---