Chapter 4 Nick
NICK
Ispot her blonde hair and break into a sprint. She’s already fumbling with her keys. Without thinking, I slap them from her hand—metal clinks against pavement, a sharp, hollow sound in the night.
“What the fuck?”
“You are not driving,” I growl.
She’s tall, sure, but I tower over her. My 6’4” frame casts a long shadow over those ocean-blue eyes. For someone so damn beautiful, she looks like a walking disaster. She drops to her hands and knees, crawling across the gravel like a drunken mermaid lost at sea.
“I am, too, so how about you get down here and help me find my keys, which you lost?”
I spot the keys right away—she doesn’t. She’s too gone, eyes glassy, movements sloppy. “Like hell you are. I saw you down seven shots in the last two hours.”
“What are you, the fucking alcohol police now?”
“No, but I’m not going to let you kill yourself.”
“Ugh,” she groans and gives up the search. Then, right in the middle of the parking lot, she slips off her high heels one at a time. I watch her like a predator—fascinated, wary. And then she’s off—barefoot and fearless—walking straight into the night like she’s immune to consequence.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like, commando?”
“Would you stop calling me that?”
She pushes past the last of the bars, into the main road like she owns the dark.
“Hey!” I shout after her, but she doesn’t turn back.
I scoop up the keys, unlock her car, and pull out of the lot, wheels crunching gravel.
I spot her a few feet away, legs steady despite the alcohol, hair wild in the wind.
I pull up beside her and tap the gas just enough to get her attention.
“It’s almost midnight. You’re not walking by yourself. Now get in.”
“Not a chance,” she says, eyes fixed forward like I’m invisible.
“You don’t even know where you are.”
“Yes, I do. I’m in hell.”
I fight the laugh threatening my throat. Witty. Didn’t see that coming.
“I can drive you to your place. I’ve got friends who can get me to my truck tomorrow. So get in.”
“I said no. I am not getting in the car with you.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed? I’m trying to help you, so just get in the damn car.”
“I don’t need your help, and I said no. I don’t even know you. How do I know you won’t take me to some back alley and kill me?”
“Trust me, princess, if I wanted to kill you, I could have done it already.”
She stops. Arms crossed. Challenge in her eyes. “See, I knew that military polite, yes sir, yes ma’am shit was a cover-up at the house. And what’s it to you anyway? If you save me from the boogie man, will you get a purple heart?”
Good question. I don’t know why I’m here either.
Maybe because she’s wasted and reckless, and I’ve already seen too much blood in this life.
I don’t need more on my hands. “Already got one of those, princess. And if you want to be an idiot and get raped or run over by a car, that’s on you.
I’d just hate to see this pretty car wrecked to a thousand pieces. ”
“I hope you do wreck it.” She keeps walking. Still barefoot. Still stubborn.
“Are you getting in or not? I don’t have all night.”
“No.”
Besides my mother, she’s the most aggravating woman I’ve ever met.
“Okay. Guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.
” I punch the gas, tires screeching as I race past her.
Her expression in the rearview mirror is priceless—confused and pissed.
I can’t help but chuckle. I whip the car around and aim it toward her.
I don’t slow down. I want her to move. But she doesn’t.
Not even a flinch. My heart jerks—she’s calling my bluff.
At the last second, I swerve, tires screeching. I throw it in park, engine humming.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I shout, slamming the door.
“You’re trying to run over me, so I think you’re the crazy one.”
“I was trying to get you to get in the damn car. But since you don’t want to cooperate, and I’m losing my patience with your shenanigans, we’ll have to do it my way.”
Her eyes go wide. She shakes her head—don’t. But I’m done with this game. She spins and runs, barefoot over gravel. Won’t get far. I close the distance in seconds. Scoop her up by the waist. Over my shoulder, kicking and screaming.
“Let me go!”
She’s light. Feisty. But I’ve carried bodies heavier than hers through worse terrain. This is nothing. I threw open the car door and dropped her inside. “Help!” she screams.
I slide in beside her and slam the door. Lock clicks. Game over
“Put your seatbelt on,” I say, hitting the child lock.
“Let me out of here.” She claws at the door uselessly.
I press the gas.
“You can’t kidnap me in my own car. I mean, who the fuck does that?”
“I’m not kidnapping you.”
“Oh yeah? Then what do you call this?”
“Driving you home.”
“I’m not going to have sex with you.”
My head snaps toward her. “What?”
“You heard me.”She folds her arms tight, defiant.
“Look, sunshine, I’m flattered sex is on your mind at a time like this and all, but you’re not my type.”
She blinks. Confused.
“You’re hot and all, but I don’t fuck spoiled little girls, especially if they aren’t coherent enough to know what they’re doing.
I actually like my women to remember how amazing my dick made them feel the next morning.
So don’t worry your pretty little heart.
That’s the last thing on my mind. But can I give you a tip? ”
She glares at me, jaw tight.
“Next time you go to the bar alone, how about you don’t have your tits on display for everyone to see—and maybe wear a dress longer than your upper thigh, so your polka-dotted pink panties don’t show.
” I wink. She gasps and snaps her legs shut like a trap.
A grin tugs at my lips. Gorgeous—but high maintenance as hell.
The kind of girl who lies still in bed and thinks her looks do all the work. I’ve had enough of those.
“It’s alright, princess. I have that effect on women. They love to spread their legs around me.”
“You are so disgusting.”
“No, disgusting would be admitting I like eating ass.”
“Oh my God. Stop, you’re going to make me throw up.”
“Go ahead. It’s not my car.”
“Such an asshole.” She mutters.
“I’ve been called worse.”
She shifts in her seat, giving me a glance over her shoulder before turning back to the window.
Silence settles. I lean forward to check if she’s still awake.
Her head slumped to the side, her breath steady, and she passed out.
I watch the rise and fall of her chest, steady.
Alive. Relieved, I reach for a cigarette in my back pocket.
I know it’s shitty to smoke in someone else’s car.
But after everything tonight—and that asshole comment—I figure I’ve earned it.
After a couple of hits of the cigarette, I toss it out the window and conclude she can sleep it off at my place.
There’s no need to take her back to the lake house like this.
If the other girls find out that she’s there because she’s Abigail’s friend and not actually trying to get sober, I’m sure it will stir up all sorts of trouble, and I don’t want that for Abigail or Colt.
They have enough on their plate with a baby on the way.
Not giving myself a chance to change my mind, I drive past the exit to the lake house.
Sweat dripped down my back as I jogged up the hill to my house. It was just fifteen minutes past 7 a.m. I figured Mel would be hungry, so I thought I would make her breakfast.
Everyone likes eggs and bacon?
I step up on the front porch and open the door, and as soon as I step inside, I’m met with a baseball bat, but being in the Army for almost 15 years makes you quick on your feet, so I duck.
“What the hell are you doing? Put that down.”
“Not until you tell me why or how I got here?”
I leave my hands up in the air and gawk at her. Does she not remember last night at all?
Tilting my head to the side, I say, “I drove you here, remember?” My words come out calm and steady. I can see her arms beginning to relax as she studies me.
“You were drunk leaving Roxies, and I forced you into the car because you refused.”
“Hell ya, I refused.” She says in a high-pitched tone.
Is she still on that subject? What was her deal? I get not wanting to be in a car with a stranger, but she knows I’m friends with Colt and Abigail. I wasn’t a complete stranger, so it made no sense why she was so adamant about not driving in the car with me.
“How about I make you some breakfast? Get some food in your stomach. I know you’re hungover, and food will help.”
I walk up to her as if she were a wild bear about to attack me.
Slow, but my gaze never wavers. I reach for the bat and take it from her; she releases it, sighing.
She was still in her black dress from last night, her makeup smeared, and she looked like a cheap prostitute, but even so, she was still fucking gorgeous.
“If you want to shower, you are more than welcome to. You can borrow some of my clothes if you like.”
“There’s a shower in this thing?”
I forgot this girl grew up wealthy and has probably never stepped foot in a place like this, so I remind myself not to take offense to it.
“Yes, and a bathtub. Let me know if you want to freshen up, " I say as I put the bat down by the couch.
“Where did I sleep last night?” I turn around, thinking that’s a weird question to start with. But before answering, I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and two ibuprofen and walked back to her.
“You slept in my bed,” I say as I motion for her to open her hand. She does.
“And where did you sleep?” She says as she pops the two pills in her mouth.
“Outside in the back of my truck.”
She nearly chokes on her water. “You slept outside?”
“Yeah, I know this place is small, and I didn’t want you to freak out when you woke up, so I figured I would just sleep outside and let you have your rest. Besides, I don’t mind being outdoors. I’ve slept in worse conditions.”