Page 13 of Hell or High Water

“I tried to get Linc to give this job to one of them. He insisted I do it,” I told her, taking my food to the sofa to sit back down.

“Poor baby,” she drawled sarcastically.

I glanced back at her as she went to the door and opened it.

“Thanks for the food,” I told her.

“Don’t choke on it,” she snapped, then left.

Two for two tonight. I was pissing off females like it was my job.

Six

Montana

One more day, and I’d get out of this cabin. Going to a new school this close to finishing my senior year was daunting, but it wasn’t like I could go back to Monroe. This was my only option. My babysitter was not required, and I didn’t want him here just as much as he didn’t want to be. He hadn’t even attempted to whisper last night when he talked to Jayda. The walls weren’t that thick, and neither was the bedroom door.

I’d waited for three hours this morning to see if he’d leave or go outside at least so I could go get something to eat and drink. After I took my time in the shower, drying my hair, getting dressed, and making up the bed, he was still here. I could hear the television, and he’d just gotten something out of the fridge.

Deciding that I could go outside if he wasn’t going to, I slipped on a pair of my tennis shoes, so that I could explore the property. But first, I needed coffee and some fruit at least. Making myself a scrambled egg and toast meant being in the same room as him for too long. I’d rather just grab a banana and go.

Preparing myself for whatever insult he tossed at me today, I opened the door and walked into the room, barely glancing at the back of his head. Thankfully, he was seated on the sofa and not in the kitchen. Continuing in our silence, I made myself a cup of coffee, then picked up a banana from the bowl that sat just below the microwave. I could smell the bacon he’d made himself, and my stomach growled. But staying in here long enough to make my own wasn’t happening.

When I reached the door to go outside, his gruff voice stopped me.

“Where are you going?”

I didn’t want to turn around and look at him, but talking to the door seemed silly. Sighing, I faced him. He was shirtless with his bare feet propped up on the coffee table and a mug resting on his denim-covered thigh. I should have kept looking at the door. Snapping my eyes up from his ripped abdomen and the tattoo on his sculpted biceps to meet his annoyed glare, I felt my cheeks get warm.

“Outside.” I stated the obvious.

“To do what?”

“Walk around.”

The distrust in his gaze made me roll my eyes.

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up.

After one glimpse of his jeans hanging low on his hips and the defined V cut that disappeared beneath them, I swung my gaze to the television. More baseball. That seemed to be all he watched.

“How long is this going to take?” he asked.

“Uh, I don’t know. Why?” Did it matter?

“Because there is a game coming on that I don’t want to miss.”

Frowning, I looked back at him, and he was pulling on a black T-shirt, which was too small for his thick arms and wide chest. That wasn’t much better than being shirtless, but at least the bottom part was covered up, and I wouldn’t keep looking at it.

“You’re going with me?” I asked, realizing that he was bending over to put on his boots.

“Yes,” he clipped.

“Why?” That defeated the purpose of my leaving.

“Because that’s my job.”

His irritation with that fact was clear. Not my fault.

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