Page 95 of Braving the Storm
“Hey.”
Just that one syllable settles my nerves more than this man could ever know. He doesn’t sound pissed or short with me, just a little more tired than usual.
“Are we allowed to talk… like this?” My damn sister has got me second-guessing everything.
A chuckling noise comes down the receiver in response. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
Pinching my brow with one hand, I huff at him. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“Aren’t uncles and nieces allowed to call each other?”
Even through the radio, I can hear his smirk.
“Oh my god. Don’t even start.”
“I’m just playing, little thorn.” Yup, there goes my heart, flying out the window to flutter off and land wherever it is this manhappens to be right at this moment. “Besides, I would have thought talking over the radio would be preferable to sending messages, hmm?”
“Yes. Ok. You win.”
“I like to win.”
Well, shit. My thighs squeeze together, hearing that unmistakable tone in his voice.
“We need to talk. Is that ok with you?”
There’s a pause; only static greets me, and just as I’m worried he’s decided to abruptly end this call, I hear him speak again.
“You got rid of Crispin?”
“I did. She’s staying in town.”
He pauses again, and I can imagine him rubbing his jaw, can picture his tattooed hand flexing as he scrubs over his mouth in the way he tends to do while thinking.
“The roads are good enough, you can bring that shitty little car of yours. I’m gonna read the address out for you. We can stay out here on the job I’ve gotta work on for the night.”
“Is it somewhere nearby?”
“A ranch just out of town, I’m not risking staying at the cabin while your sister is poking her nose around, and you’re not gonna stay there where she can get to you either.”
He says it so resolutely. So calmly. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world that he would protect me from the family I’ve been burdened with.
“There’s a pen on top of the radio, darlin’.” My eyes flick up to where, sure enough, a ballpoint and a faded notepad sit, and I note down the instructions he gives me on how to make my way to the ranch.
From what he’s described, the location is remote, but isn’t perched on top of a mountain at least. With his steady, secure voice, he reassures me that I’ll be fine driving there alone. The notion of getting behind the wheel and driving back down that winding road doesn’t exactly settle my scurrying anxiety, but I’mmotivated enough to get to him that I can’t stop and think too long. I just have to do this.
“Pack an overnight bag.” His deep tone cuts through my thoughts, and if I had any doubts about whether things were going to be alright between us, in spite of last night’s revelations about my secrets, he sweeps all that to one side with his next words.
“Oh, and make sure to bring your favorite toy, little thorn.”
Chapter 32
Fixing up Beau’s ranch on his behalf is a whole lot more appealing when there’s a sexy as fuck girl helping me out.
Briar arrived—that heap of junk rental car might be a death trap, but at least it has served a useful purpose considering these circumstances—and I immediately put her to work.
She’s nervous as shit after what went down last night, and I don’t blame her. It took me a minute to get my head around what her sister was spewing, and while I don’t care about any of it, I’m more determined than ever to plan my course of action right.
Wooing Briar Lane is like getting a skittish horse to come and finally trust you enough in order to take a look at its hoof. She’s had it rough her whole life, not lacking money or materialistic crap, but emotionally and mentally, the girl has been through the wringer. Damned if I’m going to do anything to make her feel like she can’t trust me.
