Chapter 11
Gray
Her gaze, full of fire, sliced into me. She didn’t trust me, and that cut deep.
In her eyes, she probably felt that her idea of family differed from mine. Besides, her only frame of reference was the part of my family that was trying to kill us. It was fair of her to assume they were all like that, but that wasn’t true.
My actual family, the family I hadn’t told her about, loved each other the way she loved Nash, Sybil, and her father.
Despite the cards I’d been dealt and the horrors I'd seen, family was something I desperately wanted back. If I had the chance to start my own, I would in a heartbeat, and this time, I’d make it right.
I’ve had ample time to dream about the family I wanted, and to be honest, it started with her. That’s why she was here with me now. She was my future. I’m not sure how or why I knew she was the one, but I felt certain—I could see it—and I had to keep her safe.
Betty pouted in the snow, having abandoned her yelling. I’d have let her continue as long as she wanted to if it made her feel better, but even Betty had her limits.
It was glaringly obvious how her new surroundings clashed with her New Yorker personality. She looked out of place in the woods, but what other choice did I have?
After what happened a few nights ago, New York was over for both of us. It was that or face my uncle’s fury on his turf and end up six feet under. He was too powerful now, and it would take a lot more than little old me to stop him.
We needed a miracle.
She sat there, arms crossed, wrapped in my big, rust-colored canvas hunting jacket.
It was stained with elk blood, a hard thing to differentiate given the color of the coat, and was a detail I kept to myself.
Her usually flawless, dark brown hair was a mess, and her makeup was long gone, but she was stunning despite that. She would always be stunning to me.
I’d picked up some new boots for her, and they looked cozy on her feet, at least. In town, I’d spared no expense outfitting her needs as best I could for her upcoming life in the woods, but it felt invasive to undress her and put her into those new clothes and further push the envelope.
It was better that they remain fresh for her to discover later at the cabin. Maybe it would help lessen the blow.
All of it was on the sled... along with a whole lot of eggs.
Her world in New York was almost foreign to me, a distant past I’d once lived but had long forgotten. I’d spent half my life in the woods now, whereas she’d lived in a luxurious New York townhouse in a city offering every advantage.
Though usually confident and even cocky, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy as we faced down this new challenge. Could our relationship survive the change of scene?
There was no telling how she’d adjust to the pace. Sure, she seemed quick to adapt; I just hoped she was also willing to adapt to this. Whatever my life lacked, I’d do my best to adjust whatever was necessary to make her comfortable.
All I cared about was her safety and making her a part of my life. I was in awe of her—her spirit, her intelligence, her strength, everything about her. Hell, she’d fought harder back in that apartment than I’d seen anyone fight before, especially against an opponent three times her size.
Never had I wanted something, or someone, so deeply. I was lonely out here in the woods; I was lonely everywhere. But was this the right way to go about remedying that?
Time would tell.
Mr. Beans let out another yowl. He’d been grumpy the whole trip, not that I blamed him.
I’d let him wander in the truck, but he wasn’t adjusting to car travel the way Villainy was.
Villy had climbed onto my shoulder, snuggled into my sweatshirt hood, and slept for most of the trip.
He was still calm now, curled up in the back of the kennel, warm in a nest of blankets.
Villainy was young enough to learn and become an adventure cat. Maybe the tables would turn, and Villy could teach Mr. Beans a thing or two out here. With hope, maybe they could both grow to enjoy exploring the outdoors.
“We should really go, Buttercup. If not for me, then for the cats,” I pressed again.
She glared, not appreciating my use of the cat as bait and motivation.
“Literal wolves are going to hear Mr. Beans and start circling. Unless you’re prepared to take on hungry, possibly rabid mutts twice your size…” I threatened further, “then we need to skedaddle.”
She pushed her gloved hands into the snow, trying to look tough, but she couldn’t hide the fresh wave of caution that rippled out of her.
“Or you’ll freeze your butt off in the snow like that,” I added. Her bottom would have frozen solid by now if I hadn’t put her in the diaper.
I smirked, recalling the whole situation.
Yes, I’d been a gentleman—it was more about finishing the job and preserving her dignity than anything else.
How could it be anything else? I might be many things, but that brand of “kinky” wasn’t one of them.
Honestly, I felt bad for her and furious at what they’d done to put her in such a vulnerable and embarrassing position.
“Fine,” she huffed, as if she’d actually had a say in the matter. She pushed herself up, icy snowballs sticking to her snow pants.
I got off the snowmobile and reached out to brush them off her when she neared.
She swatted my hand away before I could even get close. “Don’t even think about touching me, Gray,” she hissed out. “Ever again.”
Her slap had some meat to it, sending a twinge of pain up my already bruised forearm. I backed away, taking the hint. She clearly wasn’t feeling any affection for me, maybe never would again, but I wouldn’t let that stop me from trying my hardest to change her mind.
Mark my words, Betty Beaumont will be mine.
Ethan was handling things for me back in New York.
When I checked in at the last town, he’d already arranged for people to clean up the break-in: fix the doors, remove the blood, and put the room back in order.
Ronny and Derek the refrigerator had escaped shortly after we left.
I’d left them tied together on the bedroom floor, but not in any way that they couldn’t escape, just enough to buy us time to get away unfollowed.
As far as I could tell, we’d vanished without a trace.
I gestured for Betty to get back on the snowmobile.
She sighed dramatically, but conceded and climbed aboard, grabbing the handlebars and wiggling her perfect butt on the seat. Damn, she looked good with a diaper butt. I found it amusing and sexy, and I wasn’t even sure she knew she’d done it.
“Fine, but I’m driving,” she announced.
I smirked and cleared my throat. “Have you ever driven one of these?” There was obvious doubt in my tone. New Yorkers weren’t drivers. It was a fact. That, and I’d seen her skills, and they left much to be desired.
“Well… I’m not letting you drive,” she retorted. “It’s not like there are cars out here I can run into.”
Or hot dog carts, I thought to myself.
I climbed onto the snowmobile behind her, my legs pressing against hers as we settled. I wrapped my arms around her middle to reach the starter and show her the basics.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She jerked away dramatically, her face set in that familiar scowl. “What part of ‘don’t touch me’ do you not understand? Do I need to spell that out for you?”
I hated this.
Itching to antagonize her, I pressed closer against her back, wanting nothing more than to dish back the attitude. “You have to start the engine here,” I said, pointing to a large button on the dash.
She grumbled, brushing my hand away and pressing the starter with punishing force. It turned over sharply; the engine roaring with a burst of exhaust. She took hold of the handlebars, once again shaking her butt on the seat and shoving me back in the process with her sharp elbow.
A grunt escaped me, her arm jabbing into my gut and making her point. I exaggerated the wince to get another rise out of her. This wasn’t going as planned, but I could be patient.
“Don’t hold on to me,” she growled. “Don’t even breathe on me, and sit the fuck back, asshole, there’s plenty of room.”
That mouth.
I reached for the back handles that were just below my thighs, giving in to her demands as I leaned away from her. I’d do what she wanted for now, but it wouldn’t stay this way.
Testing the front skis by twisting the handle, she saw them respond.
She was intelligent and grasped the machine’s mechanics quickly.
My only genuine worry was her driving, something I’d already witnessed from her CCTV footage last fall when she came looking for me.
That incident had involved at least one pedestrian injury, a squashed hot dog, and some ill-fated stop signs.
She fiddled with the throttle a few times, making the sled lurch forward and then stop.
I kept my comments to myself. Gradually getting the feel, she eased us ahead until we were going straight at a decent speed, about forty miles per hour.
Soft snow spiraled behind us, and I glanced back to make sure the sled and cats were still there after all her jostling.
Betty turned her head so I could see the side of her face, focussing on her lips as she asked, “Which way?” Her voice was barely audible above the engine’s din, and her diamond and pearl earrings caught the last rays of the sun over the looming mountains.
I leaned in, speaking close to her ear. My lips grazed her skin for a fleeting second before she recoiled, as if I were an unwelcome insect.
Her glare could melt steel. “Which way?” she snarled again.
I laughed inwardly, not daring to let my amusement show; I’d end up tossed from the seat. “I’ll tell you when we have to turn,” I yelled. “But keep going straight.”
She nodded and looked ahead again, shutting me out.