Page 12 of Follow Me Down

Chapter Four

Fallon

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My stomach is a ballof nervous energy as I push open the screen door and make my way out onto the front porch dressed in the gray jersey shorts and light pink t-shirt Titus picked up for me earlier. It’s not the most stylish outfit in the world, but it’s a hell of a lot better than what I was wearing this morning. He even picked me up a pair of flip flops which I thought was extremely thoughtful given that I have no shoes. They’re a little big but serve their purpose none the less.

I head down the three steps that lead to the sidewalk and slowly make my way around the side of the house. The afternoon heat feels heavy on my skin and I wish I had something to tie my hair back with.

The thought fades from my mind when I spot Titus exiting the large building behind the cabin, his white t-shirt grease stained and wet with sweat. The fabric is taut against his chest, showing off his defined muscles and the colorful splashes of ink beneath the thin material.

My stomach clenches.

He spots me almost immediately, sliding the large door closed before heading in my direction.

I tell myself to look anywhere but at him, except I can’t get my eyes to listen. They’re glued to Titus as if he were the most magnificent sight they had ever seen. Truthfully, he just might be.

Shaking off the thought, I plaster a smile on my face right as Titus reaches me.

“They fit.” He gestures to my outfit.

“They do. Thank you again.” I knot my hands nervously in front of me.

“It’s really no problem.” He shoves a chunk of hair out of his eyes.

“When I get my purse back I’ll reimburse you.” My cheeks heating slightly.

“That’s not necessary.” He shakes his head. “Let me change really quick and we’ll get on the road.”

“Okay,” I murmur, my nerves spiking again.

On one hand, I’m eager to get my things. It would be nice to have a little money. Thank goodness I withdrew some cash for the trip otherwise I’d be screwed. It’s not like I can use one of my dad’s credit cards if I plan to stay off his radar. And I’m sure I’ll need my I.D. at some point. Not to mention, my clothes, toothbrush, and other toiletries, all of which I’m desperately missing right about now. I’m not a huge fan of brushing my teeth with my finger or having to wear men’s deodorant.

On the other hand, there’s a chance Austin is still at the lake house and facing him is not something I have any desire to do. I also don’t want to face Christy. On the off chance she noticed my absence, I don’t want to have to explain to her what happened. I just want to get in, get my things, and get out of there as quickly as I possibly can.

“Ready?” I jump when Titus reappears a few moments later. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t heard him exit the house.

“Ready.” I swallow past the tight knot in my throat and turn in his direction.

I assumed that we would be taking his motorcycle, so when he pulls open the door of an old black pickup parked next to the house I’m not sure if I’m more relieved or anxious.

At least on the bike we don’t have to talk. Not that I don’t want to talk to him, because I do. It’s just, well, he makes me so nervous and I have absolutely no idea why. Okay, that’s not entirely true.

He’s gorgeous and intimidating as hell. A combination that leaves me feeling more than a little off kilter. It would be different if he was like Link, who’s charismatic and easy to talk to.

Normally I have no problem making conversation. As a product of being a politician’s daughter, I can talk my way through just about any situation. But every time Titus enters a room it’s like my brain forgets how to work.

Trying to push past my nerves, I cross around to the passenger side of the truck and tug the door open. Titus is already inside when I slide onto the bench seat next to him, his dirty white tee having been swapped for a clean deep blue one.

I try to focus on my surroundings rather than the man next to me, looking around the cab of the truck. While the outside of the truck is worn and dirty, the inside is very well kept, showing barely any signs of wear and tear that you’d expect in an older vehicle like this one.

“No bike today?” I ask, needing to fill the silence.

“I figured it’d be easier this way. I wasn’t sure how much stuff you would be bringing back with you.”

I nod.

I hadn’t even considered that. Trying to hold onto a suitcase on the back of a motorcycle probably wouldn’t go over too well.

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