Chapter 19
FRANKIE
There was a houseful of Wilders and not one of them prevented Shep from taking me.
He literally yanked me off the stool, tugged me out the back door, and tucked me into the passenger seat of his truck, going so far as to put my seatbelt on for me.
Even Mrs. Wilder, who seemed quite kind and motherly, although I had no idea since all I could remember of mine was as a drug addict before she died.
A normal mom like her would have stopped him, right?
Even Colt, a flipping sheriff, had stayed silent.
At least I wasn’t being driven off with him again. Leaving the shop, he’d put me in the front seat of his patrol SUV, but it didn’t mean he wouldn’t change his mind about arresting me, then started asking me questions. Like why I was sleeping in his brother’s shop.
He’d known my name right away, which meant Shep had told him about me. At first, I thought he was taking me to jail, but he’d driven right past the squat building with the flagpole out front and patrol cars in the lot. Then he went all quiet, which might’ve been even scarier.
“Come on in,” Shep said, pulling me from his garage into his kitchen. He kept holding my hand, probably thinking I was going to run off if he didn’t. He took off his shoes and set them to the side and I followed.
He flipped a switch for a sconce that illuminated an avocado green countertop.
Knotty pine cabinets had decorative scalloped edges that continued to the window over the sink.
It had white cafe curtains that offered some privacy, although the only things that peek in this far out in the country were elk, coyotes, and maybe an occasional bear.
We hadn’t gone back on the main road to get to Shep’s place, but continued further down the dirt drive from the other house. The porch light had been on and the small log cabin looked set in a snow globe winter wonderland.
I stepped into the kitchen after him and glanced around. Everything was neat. No dishes in the sink, only a single mug upside down in the drying rack. Nothing seemed to have been updated since the fifties or sixties except for a shiny new stove and a microwave tucked into the corner of the counter.
The kitchen, living area, and bedroom were all one large room. There were two doors to the left of the bed, which made me think one was a bathroom and the other a closet.
It was cozy. Simple. And smelled like Shep.
And we were all alone.
Me and Shep.
Shep and me.
The only way out of this was to tell the truth, admit what I did and hope he forgave me. I doubted he’d toss me out into the snow, so he might yell at me and fire me, but at least I’d be comfy and warm for the night.
“I’m sorry,” I said, turning to face him, tipping my chin up. He’d hired me. Given me a chance and I owed him an apology. I tried not to think about Saturday night and how it impacted all of this. Because Shep and I were very much alone.
After a second, he turned and faced me. Those whiskey eyes held mine. “Sorry? For what?”
I swallowed. Okay, he wanted me to spell it out. Like standing before a judge admitting to my sins.
I folded my fingers together in front of me. “I used your door code when I shouldn’t have to access your business.”
His eyebrows went up in unison. “That’s the kind of answer for Colt. I’m not the sheriff. Why, Frankie?”
I blinked. He hadn’t called me cherry like he often did and that hurt more than I expected. “It was cold. I was going to sleep in my car in the hotel parking lot. It’s got good lighting and in all the time I’ve worked there, never once heard of a break-in. But the weather turned. So–”
“Not that why,” he said, cutting me off. “You have three thousand dollars from Saturday night. I’m sure–”
“Six hundred,” I corrected.
He frowned. “Six hundred?”
I nodded. “Rocky gave us twenty percent.”
This time, his eyes widened, then narrowed into slits. “That fucking pimp.”
I cringed because that made me a prostitute. “Shep–”
He held up his hand, then came over to me. I backed up, bumping into the counter. “You’re staying here from now on.”
Outside, the wind whipped and whistled. I wasn’t making it a quarter mile, let alone back to his parents’ house in this weather.
I looked up at him, at the fierceness I saw. The anger. The… something. Something I didn’t understand.
“I can’t stay with you,” I said. “You’re my boss.”
“Yeah, you said that at Ma and Pops’. You know why I bought you Saturday night?” he asked, cupping my face with his big hands. I felt the rough callouses on his palms. Their heat.
I blinked. The answer was obvious. “Um… so you could have sex with me.”
He shook his head, gaze locked onto mine.
“I bought you so none of the others could have you.”
I couldn’t help but frown because he wasn’t making any sense. “What?”
“You heard me.” His voice was almost lethal. “I saw you standing up on that dumbass tree trunk coffee table and I wanted you as my own. I declared you mine then and there.”
He wanted me as his own? He’d said mine that night, but I thought it’d been in the heat of the moment or because he’d spent so much money that he had earned the right to be greedy with the other guys.
“But you were determined to sell yourself and I’d pay anything to keep you safe.”
“We still had sex,” I reminded, still confused.
Heat flared in his eyes at the reminder, then his gaze dropped to my lips, as if he were doing anything he could not to kiss me. “It was only a matter of when. Sex with you was happening. You felt the connection between us. Hell, you were dripping for it.”
My cheeks heated because he was right and he knew it. He’d felt it. He’d licked it.
“Your first time was gonna be with me, cherry.” Why did his deep voice make that sound so sexy?
“Then what changed?” I asked. “You said no sex yesterday morning.”
He huffed, dropped his hands and stepped back. “You’re my employee and that gives me power. Not the good kind like in bed when you give me control.”
My mind went to that idea, but he plowed ahead.
“You obviously needed the money if you were at Rocky’s Saturday night. You wanted a job at my shop. You said you needed it. I didn’t want you to think sex was a condition of the job. I’m not a dick.”
“Then you do want me?”
I’d been alone for so long I didn’t even understand why Shep would want me.
Surprising me, he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the sofa. Dropped down onto it, then tugged me onto his lap. I sat sideways so my legs dangled, his arm around my back.
“More than anything,” he said, with more vehemence than I’d heard from him. “That means I need you to tell me what’s going on so I can take care of it.”
I shook my head. “I can’t put my problems onto my boss. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”
His fingers on my hip clenched and I felt a rumble in his chest. A growl?
“You aren’t alone any longer, cherry. Don’t think of me as your boss.”
My eyes flared wide in panic. “You’re firing me?”
“No. But I’m your man now. Tell me what’s going on. Colt said you were evicted.”
I took a deep breath, let it out. I couldn’t ever remember sitting in someone’s lap before.
I didn’t want to tell this shameful story to anyone, but Shep of all people had a right to know. I broke into his place after all.
“Yes. I lived with my older brother in the little trailer park on the county road between Barnes and Devil’s Ditch.
He left town a few weeks ago. I give him my portion of the rent and he pays the landlord.
” I couldn’t meet his eyes for this because I hated that I’d been so clueless, so I studied a button on his shirt.
“Turns out, he didn’t and pocketed four months worth of rent instead. ”
This time, I felt and heard his growl.
“Where’d he go?” he asked in a tone that sounded like he might go after him if pointed in the right direction.
I shrugged, my shoulder bumping his chest. “No idea.”
“No other family?”
I looked down at the braided rug beneath on the floor. “No.”
When I didn’t pick the conversation thread back up, he asked, “You work at a hotel?”
“Yeah. Front desk. Evening shift.” At this rate, he was going to get all the parts and pieces of my sad life one question at a time.
I wanted to tell him in one go, like ripping a Band-Aid off.
I pushed off his lap and he let me stand and pace.
“I told you at lunch, my father bolted when I was little. My mother died when I was twelve from a drug overdose. While she’d been around before then, she’d been high all the time.
Marcus was twenty at the time and became my guardian so I didn’t go into foster care.
That was pretty much on paper only. I moved into his trailer with him.
He left money for me on the counter to get groceries. I got myself to school.”
“At twelve?”
I shrugged. “It wasn’t like I was a little kid or anything.”
He ground his teeth together as if trying not to say something. Then finally, he asked, “Where would you be if your brother didn’t fuck you over?”
“I’d be in the trailer barely making ends meet. The landlord is a jerk and likes to raise the rent. That doesn’t matter now, so this week, I’ve just been holding out for payday. Yours and at the hotel. My plan was to have enough to rent a room somewhere and then I’d be good.”
He shook his head. “New plan. You’re staying here now, cherry. With me.”