Page 6 of A Not So Merry Rescue
“Okay, but what am I going to do? Where am I going to stay?” Near hysteria grips every syllable, and concern blankets her expression.
Nervous energy palpitates the car, and her panic stirs something within me. It’s the only explanation for the words spewing from my mouth.
“You’ll come home with me.”
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“Imost certainly won’t becoming home with you,” I all but squeal.
Somehow my brain deciphered his words and sent the message to my mouth.
Because in what world does this man think I’m going home with him?
His eyes go wide at the sound of my voice. Whether it’s the words or the tone, I can’t ascertain. Not that I care which it is. I’m glad he’s affected.
“Oh, shit. I didn’t mean come home with me.”
“Then why did you say ‘you’ll come home with me’?” My voice is tinny and pitched high, and my body shudders, the thought beyond ludicrous.
He holds up his hands, palms facing me. If it’s to get me to calm down or change my tune, I don’t know. “Hear me out.”
The adrenaline from earlier returns, my heart rate accelerating as if I’ve been running or doing a HIIT workout. And since I like neither of those and avoid them at all costs, it’s not a good feeling.
A stare-down ensues, the only sounds the wind gusts outside and our labored breaths. I’m hoping only I can hear the pounding of my heart.
When he doesn’t speak for several minutes, I prod, “Well? I’m listening.”
Beckett shoves his fingers through his brown hair, mussing up the medium-length strands. If I was certain he wasn’t a serial killer, I’d find him attractive.
Hell, no matter his side profession, the man’s an eleven on the attraction scale.
Dark, wavy, thick hair. Not curly, but wavy. Like girls would kill to have those kinds of waves.
Long lashes surrounding the bluest of eyes. Lakes of enchanting cerulean to get lost in if one stared too long.
Under a layer of stubble, one dimple on his left cheek, a divot I’d like to poke the tip of my finger in.
And the quirkiest crooked smile. I’ve only seen it once, but damn did my lady parts sing.
This is exactly why I’d be taken by a kidnapper if approached. If I’ve learned anything from the podcasts and documentaries to protect myself against predators, it’s that I’ve learned nothing.
One look at this stranger and I’m all like “have my babies.”
Wait. That doesn’t make sense.
He can’t havemybabies.
It’s more like “let me haveyourbabies.”
My mind diverges down a path it shouldn’t, and when I clue in, his mouth is moving. I force my ears to listen.
“I have a rental property. You could stay there. That’s what I meant by ‘home.’”
“Like an Airbnb?” I state incredulously. He nods, like the information isn’t the best piece of news I’ve heard all day. “Why didn’t you say that like ten minutes ago? Instead of texting people about the inn and the bed-and-breakfasts?” I swat his chest. Even under his sweatshirt, it’s well-defined.
Add that to the list of his incredible qualities.
