Page 24 of Storm Warning
With a wink in Nancy’s direction, I tuck a couple extra bills beneath my drink. In an instant, I’m on my feet and out the door with Kaylee at my side.
“What are you doing?” she challenges, anger in each word.
“Walkin’ ya home.”
“No, you’re not.” Her words are curt, but my stride continues in tandem with hers.
“I don’t got anythin’ better to do.” And that’s the truth. I don’t. Ever.
“I’m sure you can find something that’s more your level in the alley. Try that and fuck off.”
My level? For what? What makes her hatemeso much?
“So our date didn’t meet your expectations?” I figure a joke is a good enough reminder that I’m notthat bad. After all, she did choose to stay with me the rest of the night. But the huff that follows leads me to believe it didn’t land as intended, so I try to soften her anger before she hits me with it. “Just figure it’s late and might as well make sure ya get home safe.”
Her brows furrow together. “Safe from what? Creeps like you?”
Ouch. Her aggravation only ever seems to grow, but all I’m trying to do is be nice. What happened in the last five minutes that made her revolve back around to this level of attitude?
“I have a switchblade in my purse. I’ll be fine,” she bites out as I continue to walk alongside her.
I glance down at the tiny silver bag in her hand. “What else ya got in there, Angel? Brass knuckles?” I try to lighten this heavy mood she seems to always carry around with her.
Stopping dead in her tracks, she turns toward me, angersparking in her dark gaze. “Call me Angel one more fucking time and you’re about to find out.”
I hold my hands up in surrender, thankful a few feet stand between her and I. I don’t particularly want to get maced or whatever she plans to pull out of that sparkly purse. She turns away from me, taking a few steps to put distance between us, and I let her. I’m not sure how to interpret her mood.
The sound of a whistle drifts from across the street, forcing both of our attention toward some drunk dipshit as he stumbles down the sidewalk, cat-calling her from where he stands. “Hey baby, you wanna come home with me?”
She doesn’t miss a beat with her response. “Not even your mom wants to be under the same roof. Keep walking fuck-face.”
I crack a smile. She’s fierce, in ways I’ve never seen before, and after that, I can see why she would be so untrusting of men.
As he steps off the curb toward her, I subconsciously close the space between us.
Kaylee doesn’t notice my presence, however he does immediately, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry ‘bout that, thought she was alone.”
I cringe at his remark, suggesting her being by herself justifies his shitty ass behavior. The more I think about it the more, I think that men like that are the exact reason why she hates us all. I barely have time to brace myself as Kaylee whirls around, flames in her eyes, ready to chew me out for robbing her of the chance to put this schmuck in his place herself.
I take her in, in all her bright, sequined glory. Is this the shit she deals with daily? If so, I’d be pissed at the world too. “Yeah, no, you ain’t walkin’ alone. I can walk behind ya or with ya, but either way, you’re stuck with me tonight.”
She seems to soften at what I say, exhaling slowly before agreeing, “Fine, you can walk with me.”
A surrender she surely didn’t anticipate, nonetheless, I consider a win.
We stroll a short way in silence. The type of quiet that is filled with tension, not the good kind. I want to say something, anything to fill the void between us, but decide against it because I’m the one who forced my presence and I don’t want to make her hate my guts.
“Thanks,” she mutters, and I feel a tangible surge of relief.
“I didn’t do anythin’.” I can’t help myself wanting to make the moment feel a lot less heavy so I add, “Ya see that guy? Pretty sure he pissed himself once ya talked back.”
Her lips turn upwards as she glances up at me, her smile dying the second I return it. Man, I don’t get this girl. Confidence doesn’t work. Kindness doesn’t work. What’s a guy got to do to gain a little of either back?
I mull over what to say, because I don’t know how long this walk is going to be and another five minutes of silence might kill me.
“So, how did ya meet Daisy?” I’m not sure it’s the best question, but it’s all I got. I decide to keep the conversation as surface level as possible. Something tells me if I were to ask anything too direct, she’d brush me off or shut me out completely. The only time she truly seems to be warm is around her friend, so asking about Daisy feels like the better topic.
Silence lingers and I’m convinced she won’t answer, but there’s a warmth in her gaze as she finally says, “I hired her to work for me before she left me for her big girl job. We just clicked, so we stayed friends.”
