Chapter Twenty
Nate
The drive back felt shorter, sharper. My hands were tight on the wheel, headlights cutting the darkness. I told myself I’d come for my laptop, but I’d never lied to myself very well.
I’d returned because I couldn’t stand how we’d left things.
The farm appeared out of the trees. A porch light glowed faintly. Everything else was black. My headlights swept across the driveway, catching movement. A flash of pale hair. A figure near a box truck.
I hit the brakes hard, gravel spraying. A woman stood in the spill of light. Not Jo.
Except every nerve in my body screamed otherwise.
She froze and turned. Then I saw her face and familiar set of her shoulders beneath a flannel shirt.
I climbed out, my voice slicing through the cold. “Where are you going?”
She didn’t answer.
I strode over. As I did, she rushed to close the back of the truck. I caught the door and shoved it up. The interior was packed with boxes, tools, equipment draped in blankets, and a motorcycle.
Her tone was low, steady. “You need to walk away, Nate.”
“Or what?” My gaze raked over her. “Are you wearing green contacts?”
She held my stare, defiant.
“I liked you better as a brunette.”
She sighed.
“What are you stealing, Jo? And is that even your real name?”
If looks could kill . . .
“I’m not a thief. Everything in that truck is mine.”
“It’d be easier to believe if you weren’t sneaking off with it in the middle of the night.”
Her jaw clenched. She shifted, one hand loose at her side. My pulse spiked when I noticed the grip of a gun peeked from her waistband. “Are we doing this again?” I asked with a nod toward the weapon.
“We don’t have to.”
“How did you get it back?” I refused to believe Silas had given her the combination.
She stared at me, her gaze blank and trained. “I’m leaving, Nate.”
When she reached past me to lower the door, I blocked her with my body. “Not before you answer a few questions. Honestly, this time.”
She stepped back. I saw the next move forming—she was calculating distance, weighing whether she could outrun me to the driver’s door. I planted my feet and dared her to try.
The idea of a chase was entertaining.
My breathing turned shallow.
Hers matched it.
We stood there, measuring each other.
“This isn’t how it looks, Nate.”
“Then come inside and explain it to me.”
“I have to leave.”
“And I need answers.”
“You can’t make me stay.”
“I bet I can.” My mouth curved; the line between danger and desire blurred.
Color rose in her cheeks. Her tongue touched her bottom lip—once—and the memory of that mouth on me nearly buckled my knees.
Eyes darkening, she warned, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Some consider a little pain part of the fun.”
Her hands went to her hips. “Glad you find this amusing.”
“I don’t.” I leaned in. “Normally I’m not into pain or games, but with you . . . I’d make an exception.”
Her mouth parted, then her eyes flashed fire again. “I can’t do this. I have to go.”
“Not happening. Not like this. Who the hell did Silas take in?”
She spun and bolted.
I gave chase. She didn’t get far. Hooking one arm around her waist, I spun her gently but firmly to a stop. Fight flared in her eyes; I was already hard and hated myself for it. She twisted—fast—but I lifted her clean off her feet and over my shoulder.
“Put me down!” she demanded.
“I will. Inside. We’re talking.”
Her fists pounded my back; a few blows actually stung. The air between us crackled. “All you’re doing is turning me on.”
She went still.
I carried her up the steps, kicked the door shut behind us, and set her down.
She stepped back, chin high, gloriously defiant. The sight undid me as much as it infuriated me.
“Now,” I said quietly. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on. All of it.”
Her eyes flashed in challenge, not fear. “If I could, I would.”
“You’ll have to do better than that.”
She crossed her arms, trembling just enough for me to pause. “No,” she said firmly.
I stepped closer, voice low. “I caught you leaving my uncle’s property with a truck full of God-knows-what. You can explain it to me or to the police.”
The silence that followed was electric. Then, in a tight voice, she muttered, “Don’t call the police.”
I didn’t promise anything. I just waited.
And waited.
And that’s how we stayed—facing off in the hallway, the world narrowing to the sound of our breathing and the sudden, undeniable certainty that I needed this woman in my life.