Chapter 8 Sutton
Sutton
My ass is sore from sitting here for so damn long. I got here hours ago. But I’m not leaving until she does.
“It says here he had a pet mouse that he trained to do tricks…” James’ face scrunches in thought. He’s a smart kid. Puts me to shame. I was never studious, all those brain cells went to my brother. Me, I’m creative and think off the cuff. I like movies and music, not textbooks or literature.
“So… your dad around?” I wince at my poor attempt at finding out more about his mom.
“No.” He doesn’t seem too upset about that fact, so I continue.
“I didn’t grow up with a dad either,” I admit, trying to connect with him.
“Was your dad angry all the time too?” His eyebrows rise expectantly, and I frown.
“I didn't really know him. My mom looked after me, though. She was the best.” I love my mom. I wish I could see her more, but in the current climate, her retirement village is being harassed by paparazzi too. Leaving me no choice but to stay away for the time being. But I have a security team keeping her and her retirement friends safe, and I have plans to bring her here to Whispers when I can. Although now, any move she makes, she’ll be followed, so I need to be careful.
“Nikki looks after me too.”
I tilt my head. I know kids these days are more relaxed, not as formal with how they address their parents, but I’m surprised he calls his mom by her first name.
“How do you like school?”
He shrugs. “Eh. It’s fine.”
“Got lots of friends?”
“Kind of. I'm still the new kid.”
I nod in understanding. School is hard. I hated it.
“When did you start?” I wonder how long they’ve been here. I already know they’re not locals.
“A few months ago.” James doesn’t give me much. I get it; our trust hasn’t formed yet.
“Where did you move from?” His eyes finally meet mine before he looks at Nikki, then back at me.
Quietly, he admits, “I’m not allowed to say.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
James looks at me, and for a moment, I think he might talk, but his lips remain closed. Further cementing the fact that they’re on the run.
“Okay, it’s home time.” Nikki steps toward us like a fresh morning breeze, although she looks tired as hell.
“Thanks for your help, Sutton.” There it is again. Like Nikki, James has a hint of a posh accent that comes out a little more prevalent in Nikki when she’s tired and not trying to hide it. Old money.
“Anytime, buddy.” I stand with him, my ass now completely numb, a big session at the gym needed.
“I’m sorry if he was taking too much of your time.” Nikki looks up at me sweetly, and her bruise shines like only a black eye can.
“I liked the company. Come on, let’s get you home.” I grab my bag that was delivered from the drugstore and start to walk with her out the back door.
“Um, home?”
“At a guess, I’m assuming you just worked a twelve-hour shift on your feet with a black eye that’s probably thumping across your head about now.
James has had a full day at school and an hour of homework already.
So I can drop you off at home today.” We let the back door close behind us, my truck all black and shiny waiting for us in the lot.
“Oh, I don’t want to impose.” Ever polite, her jaw works overtime. She hates taking things from people. I notice the look on her face whenever Rochelle offers her food or the little extras.
“I have the time,” I tell her easily.
She waves me off. “No, that’s really not necessary. We can walk.”
“I know, but the truck will be quicker. Look at him.” I nod toward James, who’s already yawning, and see her face fall. Her shoulders a little too.
“Come on.” I take her bag and then James’ backpack and walk to the truck. I’m not used to driving a truck of this size. Back home in LA, I had either a driver or my sports car. Yet another thing that I’m enjoying here in Whispers—the freedom to drive.
“In you get, buddy.” I don’t even bother waiting to see if James can climb up in the back because he can’t; it’s too high up. So I grab his waist and lift him up, sitting him in the seat, and he smiles. Putting on his seatbelt, I close the door.
“Your turn.” I open the front passenger door.
“I got it.” She’s quick, stepping in front of me, grabbing on to the handles and pulling herself up. She gets halfway and slips a little, but I catch her.
She squeals as her ass falls straight into my hold. “Whoa!”
“I’ve got you.” My words are a mere whisper straight to her ear, my lips almost teasing the flesh of her neck where she’s leaning against my chest. She takes a sharp breath in, and I have no idea how I’m remaining gentlemanly when her peachy ass is right in my palms. But I do.
I lift her slowly the rest of the way, placing her in the seat before she looks at me.
“Thank you.” Her cheeks are pink again. The color is fast becoming one of my favorites.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Sawyer’s right.
I can’t entertain the idea of a woman, for a good time or a long time.
My life’s a mess. I’m in hiding, and I have no idea what my next steps are beyond the Whiteman’s Whiskey launch and building a base here.
But as her lips turn up a little at the sides, my body melts, and just like that, I’m back to not caring what I should be doing and focusing on what I want to.
I close the door and run around the truck, eager to get back to her.
Driving out of the small parking lot, I turn in the direction I’ve seen her walking, having no idea where I’m going.
“It’s just a mile down here.” I whip my head around to her with a frown.
“You guys walk a mile every day?”
“Three, actually. One and a half in the morning, then the same back at night.”
“That’s a good walk.” Fuck, I had no idea it was that far. If you’re doing it for exercise, it’s probably great, but out here, walking on the side of the road, with backpacks after a long day at work and school, I can’t imagine that’s easy.
“Well, I don’t go to the gym anymore, so it’s my daily exercise.” She rubs her temples, and I know I was right earlier when I mentioned her head must be thumping.
“Got pain relief at home?” I murmur to her quietly, not wanting James to worry about her.
“Sure.” Her voice sounds too upbeat, and I know she’s lying. The little fibs roll off her tongue like oil touching water.
“It’s just up here.” She points out the windshield and I see a small dirt road up ahead.
“You can drop us off here at the end of the road.” Like hell I can. I can’t see any homes around here, nothing but the thick dense forest.
“I’ll take you up.” I turn in and continue to drive. She looks at me in question, and I notice her hand gripping on to the door handle so hard her knuckles are white. But she stays quiet.
“We’re at the end of the road.”
I can feel her unease, hear her hesitance. I could tell her she’s in safe hands, that she doesn’t need to worry, but that’s a conclusion she needs to come to herself. I’ll prove myself to her. I haven’t had to do that in a long time, but I will.
Not being a local, I have no idea where we are or who owns this land.
I see a small cottage up ahead and slow down as I approach.
I’m not sure if it’s scary as fuck or like a fairy tale.
On a bright sunny day, this would be extremely tranquil.
I can envision butterflies dancing around and birds singing.
But at night, who knows what animals are out here?
The cottage looks quaint but old, and as Rochelle mentioned, I don’t see any vehicles around.
But there’s a small garden of flowers, some lawn that’s cleared at the front, and what looks to be a large apple tree standing in the center.
I pull to a stop and James opens the door, jumping out. “Thanks, Sutton,” he singsongs, grabbing his backpack before running inside.
“Here.” I grab the small bag from the drugstore and hand it to her. “I got this for you.”
Lips pursed, she looks into the bag, and then her eyes widen in surprise.
It’s just a bottle of pain relief, an ice pack, some antiseptic cream and Arnica, plus a few bags of peanut butter cups to make her feel better.
But she looks at it like it’s a pot of gold or something.
Without a word, I jump out of the truck and walk around her side.
I take in a deep breath, the cool afternoon air fresh. James has turned on a light inside as I open her door, just as she turns to get out, and I meet her, eye to eye. I grit my teeth, the blue of her skin still making my shoulders tense.
“You alright out here?” My hands are placed on either side of the door, effectively keeping her in place.
She nods slowly. “Mm-hmm. We’re fine.”
“You got anyone to call if you're not?” I know she doesn’t. Rochelle, maybe. But that would be it. Considering Rochelle is married to the sheriff, there's probably no better person to have in your corner.
She shakes her head, a small hint of vulnerability cloaking her face. “We’ve got no one else. It’s just us.”
“Put your number in.” I hand her my phone, and she looks at me with more hesitance, taking a deep breath. “I won't let anyone have your number. I won’t tell anyone you live here. But I will text you so you have mine in case you need anything.”
After another pause, she moves to take my cell, putting in her number.
“You and Rochelle are the only two people that know my number.” Her eyes meet mine in a silent pact. Trust. She’s trusting me to keep it that way, and I nod quickly in understanding.
“Here.” I grab her waist, lifting her from the truck, her small size making it easy, and place her on her feet right in front of me. She looks up, her hair falling away, her eyes searching mine.
“Thanks, Sutton.” It’s not the words, but the way she says them that has my chest burning.
I feel it. I feel her gratitude, her genuine nature.
People say sweet things to me all the time.
But I know they never mean them. They’re just words.
They throw them around, telling me what they think I want to hear.
What they think will get them what they want.
Nikki doesn’t want anything. In fact, she’s the total opposite and probably doesn’t want me around.
I’m a global movie star, my face familiar, privacy not something I have, and while many people want in on that lifestyle, I know Nikki isn’t one of them.
That’s what I like about her the most. The simple things impress her.
The real me. Not the movie star me. I have a feeling she’s seen all the same bullshit I have.
“Anytime.” I absentmindedly brush my fingers across her blue-tinted skin once more, carefully, still not over the fact that some asshole decided to take her money and put their hands on her. “Better get inside before James finds a mouse.”
Head tilting, she looks at me like I have three heads.
“Benjamin Franklin had a pet mouse he trained,” I explain, and she releases a breath of relief, then shakes her head and smiles.
"Benjamin Franklin also thought taking 'air baths'—basically sitting around naked—was good for his health. I think I’d take the mouse over that.” She steps away from me, walking up to her house. I watch her the entire way, my mind now on seeing her in an air bath, and I know I’m too far gone.
I should’ve listened to Sawyer and kept my distance, because now that we’re friends, there’s no way I can turn back.