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“What were you planning on doing if I’d told you that I had told Quinton everything?” I asked. This seemed like an important thing to know. Just how far had he been willing to take his anger?
His thumb stopped gliding across my jaw as his eyes bore down on me.
“I would have yelled at you, to be sure. I would have said unforgivable things that I would have immediately wanted to take back as soon as I walked away from you. Then I probably would have left here, gone straight to the motel where Annabell’s at, and done something horrible to her, because I blame her for this whole awful mess I’m in.”
I supposed that sounded slightly reasonable. If I’d thought he had turned me in I might have yelled at him, too. We were now partners in this, and partners stuck together.
“But did you have to manhandle me first?” I asked.
He ducked his head, hiding his eyes from me and his cheeks actually tinted red.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured in an embarrassed voice. “Even when I’m upset I can’t stop myself from wanting to touch you. Your skin is like a drug, and I fear it’s gotten worse because I’m upset and projecting my emotions left and right, I can’t seem to keep them to myself. The more upset I get, the more I seem to crave your touch, your heat, your magic calls out to me and touching you is the only way I can get close to it.”
I relaxed against him and shook my head, shaking away his hand from my jaw. His hand fell away in rejection and he looked up at me from half lidded eyes. I wasted a small smile on him before wrapping my arms around his back and burying my face in his neck. He wrapped me up in both his arms and held on to me tightly.
“You’re not mad?” He asked in a small voice.
I shook my head in his neck and immediately felt the tension go out of him.
“Did you really hang up on Uncle Quint?” he asked.
I nodded against his neck, that I had indeed hung up on his Uncle.
“You’re in big trouble now, girl.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. He was calling me girl again, and he no longer sounded upset or tired or any of the crappy things he’d been in the past couple of days any time I’d been around him. The smile was back in his voice, and it had been put there by me.
“Do you want to watch a movie with me downstairs while I wait for someone to show up so I can get a ride home?” he asked in a sweet voice.
I nodded against his neck again, but I was a little confused.
“Why would you need to wait on someone to give you a ride home?” I asked. “What happened to your Audi?”
“The Audi’s fine,” he told me. “It’s at home in the garage. I had your Range Rover, remember? I drove it over here. Even pissed, I was still smart enough to bring you your damn SUV back. I felt bad about having the thing when I should have just asked you to drop me back off at home, or had Dash drive me home. I don’t like the thought of you being out here without a vehicle even when someone is out here with you.”
I didn’t like being without a vehicle either. It stupidly made me feel safe, and I used it as one of my many security blankets. The last time something bad had happened, having a car hadn’t made the least bit of a difference. Neither did having a damn cell phone. There were some things you couldn’t prepare for, and tragedy often struck whether you were ready for or had the tools to see your way past it or not. Was it dumb to look out the window and be comforted by the sight of my SUV parked in the driveway? Probably. But it comforted me all the same, and I felt a little bit ashamed of myself for thinking it. I’d found my home, my place in the world, even if I hadn’t worked out all the messy details yet, so why did I still feel the need to check on my SUV and make sure I had an escape just in case I needed one?
The guys would be hurt if they knew how I felt. And I never, ever planned on telling them. If I ignored it, would it go away? Would the need to have an escape plan at the ready go away with time? I sure hoped so, but I think I needed bad things to stop happening every time I got comfortable first.
With Annabell on the loose, and Chucky hanging out with the Council, I didn’t see it happening anytime soon.
And that thought made me sad.
Chapter Seven
Tyson held my hand as we made our way down the stairs. Binx was absent, which was weird for me. The little furball hadn't been in bed with me when I'd been so rudely awoken, either. I couldn't remember if Ty was one of the guys Binx liked or not. That cat was extremely picky when it came to who he shared his affections with, and a lot of the guys didn't make the very short list. But, where ever I was, even if someone he despised was by my side, the little guy was never far from me.
It was odd enough that I found myself asking, "Does Binx not like you or something?"
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and shot me a curious look. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "Everyone knows Binx only pretends to like people. He either fakes it with you or he's a little asshole to you."
That was a damn lie and I wanted to call him out on it, but didn't, because it wasn't important at the moment. Besides, I wasn't sure if he'd only said that to make himself feel better because maybe hewasone of the guys that Binx didn't like. I know if that sweet little boy didn't like me it would probably break my poor, poor heart into a million little pieces. Maybe Tyson didn't like cats? He'd never said so before.
He shook his head as he pulled on my hand. We bypassed the dining room and headed in the direction of the kitchen. I followed along without protest because I was hungry, and I didn't have anything better going for me at the moment.
"But, have you seen him since you got here?" I asked.
We entered the kitchen and Tyson flipped the switch, turning on the light. My eyes roamed around the room, searching every available space I could see, looking for Binx. His food and water bowls were on the floor in front of the cupboards by the sink. He wasn't anywhere near them. The countertops were empty as well. I know, I know, I said countertops. Dash had lived alone for a very long time, and his only roommate had been his beloved little cat. He let Binx go wherever the hell Binx wanted to go. On the counter? Sure, that was alright with Dash. On the table? Sure, why not. The dining room table? That was okay, too. I had even found him in the sink in the bathroom once, he'd been sleeping in there. I always left him to it when I found him on or in places I didn't think a cat should have been because his owner didn't care and, as much as I wanted him to be mine, Binx didn't really belong to me.
