Page 27 of Twisted Obsession

She frowns.

“You don’t need anything… except a ride home.”

“I left my car at the train station.”

“They have parking here. Did HR tell you that?”

“Denise mentioned it, yeah. She said I’d get my pass tomorrow to get into the garage, along with my ID and stuff. But shealsosaid we were going to New York City for the day—”

“For the game,” I finish. “Yeah.”

“Right.” She’s still twisting that strap of her purse with both hands. “I’ve only been on a plane twice, and—”

“Well, this one is a private plane. So I think you’ll be okay.”

She stops walking and blinks up at me. “What?”

“We take a private plane. We’ll be flying home right after the game. The bag they said to pack is really just a precaution in case we end up stuck there overnight.” I smirk. “It’s protocol.”

“Oh.”

I wait for more questions, but none come. She seems to be in a daze, and it’s only when we reach the parking garage that she grabs my wrist.

“Thank you.” She clears her throat. “I don’t think I said thank you for earlier. For coming and rescuing me.”

A pretty blush rises on her cheeks. She isn’t wearing any makeup. Her hair is down, a bit longer than when I last knew her. I can’t get over the blonde.

“You don’t have to thank me, Melody.”

“You called me songbird earlier…” She tips her head. “Singing was one of the things I tried. In the car, of course, along with one of the songs I first learned. Or relearned. I was terrible.”

That name. I shouldn’t have called her that—not yet. But I’ll admit that I was mildly intrigued about how she would react. And shedidreact. Which means there’s some part of her that knows about us, even if she can’t access it.

“It just slipped out.”

“Butwhy?”

Well, I won’t tell her the truth. And I don’t really have a good enough lie queued up at the moment. Nothing that would douse her curiosity.

We stop at my truck, and she plants her hands on her hips.

Her gaze goes from me to it, no doubt remembering what she said the other night. About me being a truck guy.

“Interesting,” she murmurs.

The lights flash, the vehicle unlocking, and she hoists herself up into the passenger seat without delay. Not thinking, I step forward and block the door, gripping her legs and swiveling her to face me.

Her lips part, her gaze dropping down. At my hands lightly holding the outside of her thighs. She puts her hands over mine.

“Jacob,” she whispers.

Songbird, I reply in my mind.

“Why do you scare me so much?”

I frown when I want to smile. I let my hands slip from her legs and step back from her. She closes herself in, and I circle around to the driver’s seat. Once in, I reach into the bag in my backseat and pull out a water bottle, handing it to her.

“Thanks.” She unscrews the cap and takes a swallow. Then another. Her throat moves with every gulp, until she lowers the bottle half-empty and drops it into the cup holder.

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