Page 6 of Wait in the Truck
His attention remains focused on me as he awaits my response. My tongue flicks out to test the split in my lip, hesitating before breathing out in a rush, “Not since Jonah died. He took care of that sort of thing.”
He works his jaw to the side, then sighs heavily, a clear indication he doesn’t want to acknowledge the past. “Let’s get outta here.” His warm hands grip my waist, and he carefully but matter-of-factly sets me on my feet. Heat hits my cheeks, and I wobble unsteadily. “Whoa, there.” Keeping a tight hold on me, he peers into my eyes.
I can’t handle the level of concern shining in his inky gaze, so I take a step backward, swallowing hard. “I’m fine. But…” I pause, frowning. “What about my truck? My bag?”
He quirks his lips, pivoting on his boot heel as he glances in the direction we came from. “Fuck the truck. You can’t drive right now, anyway. I’ll text Billy in a sec.” He gestures toward the passenger side and, knowing he’s right, I reluctantly follow. Edging ahead of me, he opens the door. I put my boot on the running board, only to suck in a sharp breath. “Here.” Rough palms meet my waistagain as he unceremoniously boosts my five-foot-ten frame into the truck.
“Thanks.” I offer him a tremulous smile, but he simply nods, eyes on his task as he reaches for the seat belt and straps me in. The muscle in his jaw is twitching again. He seems angry, but I also don’t claim to know what’s in his head. We’ve never beenthatclose.
It takes him longer than necessary to circle the truck, but I could be overly anxious about the fact that we’re going to be alone together for the first timeever. The creak of the door opening pulls me from my thoughts, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs as he joins me in the cab, shutting us both in. Twisting, he reaches back and lays the first-aid kit on the rear bench. His masculine, leather scent envelops me as he stretches between the two seats and rustles around for something. After a few seconds, he produces a worn, flannel shirt. “Here.”
The heavy fabric falls onto my lap, instantly warming my body. I pull it up, using the huge shirt as a blanket. It covers me from chin to knee and provides a safety I didn’t know I needed.
He tears his gaze away, then starts the engine before shifting to shove his hand in his pocket and digging out his phone. “I’ll just tell him something happened and someone will be by to collect your things tomorrow.” At my nod of agreement, he deftly taps out the message. With that accomplished, he glances at me out of the corner of his eyeand grits out, “Toby still live way down past the ol’ McDonnell place?”
“Yes. But why? I thought you were taking me home.” I reach across the console, gripping his bicep, my eyes widening at the rock-hard muscle under his skin. “I don’t wanna be near him right now.” I withdraw my hand as his head swings toward me.
“Don’t worry, Wildflower. I’m taking you home. But I’m gonna have a word with your man first.”
What? Is he insane?He hits the gas, peeling out of the lot, giving me no choice but to go along for the ride. “Kade, you can’t.” At the look he throws my way, my mouth snaps shut. Anxiety washes through me, and my mind races as he hightails it toward the edge of town. It’s hard to say how Toby will take a second round of interference from Kade since the first altercation went so well. Beneath Kade’s shirt, I curl up on the seat and pray things don’t go sideways. “You’re only gonna make things worse!”
Ignoring my outburst, he works his jaw to the side. “Sage,” he murmurs, his voice deadly low, “does he do this often?”
My eyes flick to his for a brief second before I whisper, “You’re basically a stranger.” I don’t know why I would tell him anything. We aren’t friends. Yet, here I am in his truck after he’s come to my rescue.
A soft chuckle passes his lips, and he shakes his head as he peers over at me. “We’ve lived at neighboring ranchesour entire lives. Our siblings died together. We arenotstrangers. Strangers don’t have a past, Sage. Nor do they share a tragedy.”
My heart pounds hard in my chest at the reminder of just how closely our families’ histories are intertwined. I don’t respond but jerk my gaze out the front windshield. Watching the unsteady glow cast in front of us by the headlights, we bounce along the old dirt road that leads out of town. My stomach twists at the idea of being anywhere near Toby, yet I don’t think there’s any way to talk Kade out of this.
Shifting in my seat, I bring my attention to the brooding man next to me. He drives with his left hand on the wheel, but with the other, he rolls a chip along his knuckles. I don’t even know where he retrieved it from, but it’s mesmerizing, the way he fluidly moves it from finger to finger, without even sparing a glance. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him fidgeting with a medallion like this. He used to do it all the time in high school when we were in classes together. He always seems to have it on hand.
When we pull off the road, he cuts the engine. I unfold my body, then attempt to unclip my seat belt. Kade’s protective hand latches onto my wrist. Dark eyes bore into mine and his voice is pure gravel. “Wait in the truck.”
KADE
4
The drive outto the McDonnell farm did nothing to dampen the white-hot rage clawing under my skin. Since the moment I laid eyes on Sage crouched between the dumpsters, it took all the strength I had to remain fucking calm and tend to her wounds. Beneath my cold exterior, I was—and still am—seething. I don’t know where her piece-of-shit boyfriend gets off putting hands on his woman, but I’m about to remind him why painting her perfect skin with bruises is a bad fucking idea. He should have left with the warning I gave when I tossed his ass to the curb… but that would be too easy. Instead, Buckle Boy made his second mistake, granting me enough reason to finish the job I started earlier.
As I exit the truck into the night, Sage’s eyes burn into my skin. “Kade, this is a bad idea. Retaliating will only add fuel to the fire.” Gone is the sassy girl I spentthe night observing, and the defeat lingering in her muttered plea only makes me want to strangle Johnson more.
Finding her gaze through the darkness, I implore her to do the one thing she shouldn’t. “Trust me.”
“Just be careful, okay?” An emotion I can’t quite put a finger on travels across her face. Then, finally giving in, she dips her chin. She must read me well enough to know no matter what she says, my decision is made.
“I meant what I said, Sage. Whatever happens, wait in the fucking truck.” With those parting words, I close her into the dark cab and shift to open the back door.
The last thing I want to do is give Toby a chance to prepare for my arrival, so I quickly grab hold of my favorite black Stetson from its perch on the bench seat. Inside the hat there’s a pair of cowhide gloves that I swiftly remove and tuck into the rear waistband of my jeans. Securing my medallion into the leather band of the hat, I place it on my head.
With a quick glance toward the passenger seat, I spy Sage leaning against the side window, eyes focused on the scenery with a vacant expression. Her distracted thoughts buy me enough time to pick up a few discarded lengths of baler twine from the footwell. Once I have everything, I close the door with a quiet click and stride up to the small cabin as if I don’t have a care in the world. One rickety step at a time, I make my way to the porch. I come to a halt atthe door, considering my next move.It’d be rude to barge in unannounced.
Raising my hand to the hard oak, I rap my knuckles against the solid wood three times and wait. About forty seconds later, the door swings open, giving an unappealing view of the dickwad known as Sage’s boyfriend in nothing but his tighty-whities. The lack of a bulge at the front almost makes me feel sorry for her. Through bleary eyes, he stares at me, dumbfounded, breathing out a muttered, “What the fuck?”
“Is that any way to greet a guest, pencil dick?” My arm stretches out to grip Toby by the throat, cutting off the remainder of his question. The fear in his eyes has my lips curling in a smug smile. “What’s the matter, Tobias? Do you not like it when someone bigger”—I squeeze harder, making his eyes bug out—“and stronger puts their hands on you?” I tut, tightening my hold on his windpipe until he’s clawing at my wrist like a sputtering idiot. “It’s no wonder women would rather come upon a bear than a man. Am I right?” I refer to the eye-opening social media discussion, and frankly with men like Toby roaming the streets, I’d have to agree with the women on this one. What does it say about the men of our society when women feel safer with a fucking bear?
Normally, I wouldn’t waste my time on a two-bit wannabe cowboy like Toby. Tonight, he took a gamble by damaging a pretty wildflower, and now I’m here to collecthis debt. A quick glance past him gives me a prime view into his small living quarters. From my vantage point, I do a brief scan of the room, and make sure Johnson doesn’t have company. After all, I wouldn’t put it past this prick to be stepping out on Sage; we’ve all heard the stories he spews around town.
To the left side of the cabin there’s a double bed with the sheets strewn all over the place as if he just vacated it, a dresser, and a door that leads to what I presume is a bathroom of sorts. To the right is a joint kitchenette-living space warmed by a lit wood stove. Satisfied there is nobody in here with him to witness my arrival, I push against Toby’s trachea and force him to step back.
