Page 31 of Turmoil (Elite of Elmwood 1)

Brock muttered something under his breath and then said, “You look like shit.”

Normally, a comment like that would have pissed me off, but it was true. I shrugged. “Fitting, since I feel like it. Why do you care?”

“Who said I did?” He grabbed firmly onto my chin, but also with a gentleness that surprised me. Tilting my head to the side, his eyes took on a scary glint as he inspected my face. “Did someone hit you?”

I tried to jerk my chin away, but my movements were sloppy and weak. “It’s nothing,” I said, feeling color stain my cheeks, probably only deepening the imprint my mother had left. I didn’t want to think about her or the problems I left at home. Not when I was with Brock. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want my family drama to bleed over into my time with him.

His lips pressed together. “Did Carter do this?” Cold violence simmered in his tone, and I shivered.

What made him jump to that conclusion?

For the first time, I might actually have pitied my stepbrother, because Brock could kill him with that look alone. Why would he care what Carter did to me? They were teammates. A part of me wanted to tell Brock that it was Carter who had slapped me, just to see if he would do something about it, but as I stared into his eyes glittering with venom, I couldn’t lie to him.

That was a problem.

I adverted my gaze and sighed. “No, it wasn’t Carter.”

He released my chin, shoving his hands into his front pockets as if he didn’t trust himself. “Get in the car, Josie,” he ordered. “Or I will put you over my shoulder and carry you home.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I bet you could.”

He lifted a brow.

“Carry me home,” I said in answer to his silent question. “I bet you wouldn’t even break out in a sweat.” Sweet Jesus. I needed to stop my drunk rambling.Someone put a cork or a sock in my mouth.

The corner of his lip twitched. “As much as we might both enjoy that, I’d rather not leave my car on the side of the road. I’ll take you home.”

“Do you have to?”

He bent down and scooped up the bottle of bourbon before facing me. He took his fill of me like he was trying to figure out if I was serious or not before smirking. “I guess you won’t find out unless you get into the car.”

Damn it, why did my heart flutter?Probably a delayed reaction, right? It wasn’t every day I nearly got hit by a car and ended up drunk once again with Brock Taylor. Though really, with the way my life went, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

Ensnared by his eyes, I felt as if I was on the edge of some pivotal unseen cliff. Whether I decided to jump or not would change the course of my future.

I bit my lip as my body swayed toward Brock. What did I have to lose? Besides, wasn’t I safer in the car with him than stumbling drunk at night back home? Hell, a car could actually hit me for real.

“Okay,” I agreed, grabbing the bottle from his hands. “But I’ll hang onto this.” Shit. The bottle was empty, all the liquor had spilled out over the ground.

He grinned. “By all means.”

Shaking my head, I walked around the front of the car to the passenger door and climbed inside. The seats were plush black leather and I sank into them, grateful to be off my feet. How long had I been walking for?

A quick glimpse at the car clock revealed that it was almost nine o’clock. Still early. No way was I going home.

Brock slid into the driver seat, and a thought occurred to me as he shut the door and the lights in the car dimmed. This was the first time we’d been alone since the night of the wedding. The air suddenly became thicker.

My hands clutched onto my knees and I wondered if I’d made the wrong choice. Perhaps walking was the less dangerous option.

At least for my hormones.

And I wasn’t sure if it was Brock I didn’t trust or myself. My drunk self, that was. She was feeling all kinds of emotions toward Brock right now. The scent of him clung everywhere inside the car, driving my drunk self crazy.

“God, why does he have to smell so good?”

Shit. Did I say that out loud?

Brock shook his head, chuckling as he revved the car’s engine. “Better buckle up, Firefly.” He shifted the car into gear, waiting for me to fasten the seat belt.

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