Chapter 10
Sterling
I watch her stride toward the door of Doe’s with her backpack over her shoulder. A piece of folded paper flutters to the ground behind her from her backpack as she goes. I bend down and pick it up, and shove it in my jacket pocket. I’ll give it to her later.
“See you later,” her friend Piper laughs and waves.
I chuckle thinking about Meg’s reaction to her friend’s needling.
Piper was pretty perceptive, knowing what her friend refused to acknowledge.
I did a lot of thinking after I parted ways with Holt.
I came to the conclusion that I was going to go with this.
I wasn’t going to fight it. What the hell did I have to lose?
It isn’t everyday that the universe, or whatever the hell you want to call it, basically hand delivers a woman to you.
One that you have the inexplicable and inexplainable urge to take care of and be around.
Much to my initial shock. Meg was going to have to get on board with it, I decided.
She was leaning against the truck with her coffee cup waiting for me to unlock the doors.
I let my eyes rove over her figure a bit.
She tried to hide it, but she had curves in all the right places.
I would enjoy uncovering them one piece of clothing at a time.
She started to bite her lip, her eyes darting around.
One of her tells that she was nervous. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy making her a little nervous.
Some deep seated animalistic trait. I unlock the door for her and walk around to my side.
She is in the vehicle with door shut before I round the driver’s side.
Smirking, I open the door and slide in. This is going to be fun.
She has no idea what she is in for. I start the truck and look at her again, making sure she is buckled in.
I back out of the space and head toward her house.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that she is fidgeting.
I know I have to start asking her some questions. Holt and I are going to need something to go off of to figure out what the hell is going on. Before I can open my mouth she starts to speak.
“ So, did you make any headway on my bronco? Do you know what is wrong with it?” She is picking at the seam of the coffee cup sleeve.
“It looks like someone tried to cut some wires under your hood— they also poured something in your gas tank. You are lucky that the truck died where it did. If it didn’t the engine would be trash,” I explained to her.
I’m glad she started the conversation. I glance over at her watching her reaction. She looks surprised, worried, and confused. My gut tells me she has no clue what is going on, but I press on.
“I drained the gas tank and worked on cleaning it up— your truck should be good to go in a few days,” I explain. Hoping to reassure her. She is quiet for a bit and then she swallows.
“Thank you for your help, I’m not sure what this will cost— but if it is a lot I can pay you in installments,” she explains.
Ignoring her ridiculous offer to pay me, I finally just cut to the chase. “Do you know who would do something like this,” I ask. She is silent for a moment and a flash of anxiety sparks in her eyes.
“I have no idea, there has to be some kind of mistake,” she says. She almost says the last part to herself. She has a far off look in her eyes and is biting her lip with worry.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” she goes on. I glance at her again. Knowing she is going to try to dismiss it. I change the subject for now.
“ I should be able to get the sink fixed tonight,” I offer, giving her a minute to digest the confirmation that she is likely in some sort of danger. We will have more time to talk about it tonight.
“You don’t have to do that,” she starts to protest. I raise my hand from the steering wheel and shake my head cutting her off.
“It needs to be fixed,” I ground out. Not sure how else to tell her that I will take care of it. I’m not a big communicator.
She trails off and I hear her hum. It is like she is waging an internal battle.
Finally her shoulders slump and she murmurs an “okay”.
She turns to look out the window. I wonder what she is thinking.
Suddenly her phone vibrates in her backpack.
She reaches to get it. I hear her scoff at the message.
“Something funny,” I ask. I am curious— which is new for me. Usually, I could care less about other people’s conversations.
“Just Piper being Piper,” she states. She fires off a quick response and shakes her head.
I am obviously not going to get any details about it, but I could guess.
Piper isn’t going to let this go, and I’m thrilled.
I can use all the help I can get. Meg is going to be a tough one, but I have never backed away from a challenge before.
I don’t plan on changing my track record anytime soon.