Page 37 of Steal Me (Rebel Hearts Heists 1)
“Really.” I nod, my facial expression softening, as I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I want to keep you safe Sloane, and while this started out … unusual, I want you to be able to trust me.”
She nibbles on her lips. “Why do you do all of this? The bank robberies?”
I swallow and search her eyes. I could tell her. Easily. But I feel like Blaine deserves to be a part of that conversation. I run a thumb across her bottom lip. “I want to tell you …”
She deflates. “But you don’t trust me?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You’ve been honest with us about your piece of shit ex, it’s not a trust issue. It’s that I think this conversation deserves more time than we have right now and Blaine should be there too.”
Something I said has her eyes filling with something that looks almost like guilt and I frown, a bit confused. All too soon, the others are back but this time Kaden takes the back and she hops up front, her eyes alert and the police radar sitting on her lap. I look at her as we pull away.
“Want to pick the music?” I ask, handing her my phone.
She nods enthusiastically and I don’t bat an eyelash as she begins scrolling through my phone and Spotify. I have nothing to hide there. I only have one secret and it sure as shit isn’t in my phone.
“What’s this playlist?” She asks. My ears turn pink as I realize it’s the very aptly named ‘you’ playlist that I started making last night while not able to sleep and all I could think about was Sloane. Shit.
“Um …” I search the empty roads ahead of me. “It’s something I made for someone.”
“Oh,” she whispers and begins to look through my other playlists while putting on the Red Hot Chili Peppers. “Is it someone you used to date?”
My lips press up in a slight smile at her miffed tone. “No, not someone I used to date.”
“Someone you’re currently dating?” She whispers.
“Not sure I would call it that either,” I mumble. The entire playlist is filled with sappy fucking shit and I’ll be damned, but this girl is about to get me to admit that it’s about her.
“Someone from back at school?” She asks even quieter.
I search her face and realize that I’ve screwed up again. How do I keep doing this? I meet her gaze, checking that it’s an easy road ahead. “Sloane, I’m not dating or seeing anyone but you right now.”
Her shoulders and the tension in her body relax as she blushes. “Oh. Okay. Cool.”
I wait about a minute for her to realize that I’ve made that entire playlist for her. “Wait!”
“Yes?” I arch a brow.
“Does that mean …”
“Yes.” I nod. “That playlist is for and about you.”
Well shit, I must have done something right because she leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek and that has my cock hardening uncomfortably. Fuck. How did that shit turn me on? It was a goddamn kiss on the cheek.
Still, masculine pride fills me as she plays through the entire playlist, her smile happy and content as she curls up in the passenger seat. It seems like the hours fly by and I breathe a sigh of relief as we hit the border, a small bridge that shouldn’t provide such immense hope. Yet, exhaustion rides me hard and I find myself wishing we were near a motel.
“Hey,” River calls from the back. “In two miles, make a right.”
Instead of questioning it, I put a bit of trust in River because frankly, I have no idea where the fuck we’re at. Sloane lets out a cute little yawn that has me smiling and I turn, taking a long road that finally breaks into a long pathway of small and large cabins, facing a lake. At the end there’s a house with all its lights on and a ‘welcome’ sign. The music cuts off and I realize that we have no signal here, which is sort of awesome.
“How long?” I ask, needing someone else's opinion because I’m completely out of steam.
“Let’s do three nights and we can always leave early,” she says softly. I nod and park the car, rounding the side. I open the door and I motion for the other guys to stay in the car, watching the road as Sloane offers me a sleepy smile.
“This is actually sort of cute,” she murmurs. It’s stunning. The moon is against a large body of water in the distance and I find myself glad that we’re here instead of a goddamn motel. Sloane deserves even better than this. But this should work pretty damn well in our circumstances.
“Hello!” A cheery voice greets us in the classy reception area as a grandfather clock strikes five in the morning.
“Morning.” I offer as Sloane tugs us toward the front desk where an older woman stands, dressed in an oversized sweater with a steaming cup of coffee in front of her.
