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But is that going to stop me from leaving town with him?
No.
No, it will not.
Partly because I’m legitimately terrified of what Daria might do and think giving her time to cool down is a solid idea, but mostly because I just…want to. I want to run away with this man and leave all my problems behind.
Weakness, thy name is Tessa…
I am weak, but I’m also practical and adept at making the best of a bad situation. If I’m going to be stuck in a tightly enclosed camper with this man for a week, why shouldn’t I enjoy it? As long as I remember the situation has an expiration date, a week of longer hikes and longer nights could be just what the doctor ordered.
I’ll get all my lust for the wrong guy out of my system and return home ready to retire from romance and live peacefully ever after with my ferret.
Assuming, of course, that we make it out of town alive.
“No, I’m coming with you,” I say, shifting my hand beneath his and pressing the release on my seatbelt. “You might need backup.”
He exhales. “All right. But if she has anyone with her, run right back here and call the police.”
My brows shoot up. “Who would she have with her?”
He shrugs. “She used to have a boyfriend. A very large, very dumb boyfriend. Chippy. Sweet guy, but not when Daria got him wound up. But he’s on probation for breaking a guy’s leg so he might be laying low.”
“He broke someone’s leg?” I squeak. “For Daria? What is she? A mob boss?”
“Not yet. But she’s tight with Cassie Ann Sweetwater’s granddaughters. Cassie Ann’s the one who ran the mob around here before she skipped town and her grandsons ended up in prison. Now her granddaughters host a book club on their compound every other Sunday for women interested in ‘badass reads and deeds.’ Daria used to go. Said it was…interesting.”
I hum beneath my breath. “It’s interesting that Daria knows how to read.”
Wes smiles. “I’m not sure she does. She only participated if the book had a movie version. And they spent most of the meetings talking about how badass it would be to rebuild the Sweetwater criminal empire from the ground up. Cassie Ann always favored the boys in the family, giving them the power and influence. Now that they’re all in prison, the girls want to see what they can do.”
I shake my head slowly back and forth. “Wow. And I thought my family was messed up.”
“All families are messed up, I think. At least a little.”
“Even the McGuires?”
“Even the McGuires,” he says, his voice softer. “My mom’s been so hard on Binx lately. For no reason, just because she marches to the beat of her own drum. My dad was the same way with Matty, when he was going through his…lost period.” He shrugs and shifts his focus, gazing out through the windshield. “I don’t know. I obviously don’t have kids, but if I did, I like to think I’d take a gentler approach. Let my wild kids follow their bliss and offer the struggling a safe place to land when they fall down.”
I study his profile, sadness tightening my ribs, even though I know we aren’t meant to be. “Are you looking forward to having kids someday?”
“Yeah. If I’m lucky enough to meet someone great and start a family, that would be…” He turns, sending a prickle of electricity shivering across my skin as his gaze locks with mine. “Amazing.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and turn to peer out the window again. I wonder if I’ll ever meet a man who doesn’t care about having kids. Surely, there have to be at least a few out there in the world, though they certainly aren’t hanging out in the rural Midwest.
But who cares? I’m going to be very busy with my ferret daughter, thank you very much. I wouldn’t have time for a baby even if I could have one and wanted to start my motherhood journey this late in life.
Shaking off the moment of melancholy, I ask, “So, is the brown smear what I think it is? And if so, what should I do about it? Blast it with the garden hose? Hire someone to replace the door? Burn the house down and start fresh somewhere with no poop on it?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll hire someone to clean it up after we’re on the road.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say.
“It’s not a big deal. Christian has a few guys down at his old bike shop that don’t mind a dirty job. And if they’re busy, Chris will find someone. He has connections everywhere.” He reaches for his door handle. “Just head in through the garage. I’ll take pictures of the door, so you have a record of the property damage, and be right in to help out.”
I glance over my shoulder, to where Freya is curled up on a bed of towels I made for her on the banquet table behind Matty’s seat. “It’s okay to leave her here, right? We won’t be gone long.”
“It’s fine,” Wes says. “Probably safer. If Daria’s around, we don’t want to give her another target.”
