Page 13 of Spark
“Verity.”
“I’m not going to pay for a room with my body,” she spits.
Taken aback, I blink. “Holy fuck, where the fuck did that come from? I might have asked you out earlier, but I’m only offering you a place to stay, not some kind of fucked-up deal. But I won’t lie and say I don’t want to have a chance to get to know you.”
Her eyes narrow, and she stares at me for a while. “Oh.”
“How about this? Let me take you out for dinner. I can guarantee that we’ll see a dozen people I know, and you can ask all of them if I’m an asshole who will try to take advantage of you or if it’s safe for you to stay at my place.”
“If they’re your friends, they’re not going to say you’re dangerous, are they?” she scoffs.
“We can make a stop at the sheriff’s office. My buddy is married to the deputy’s sister, he’ll vouch for me. You can also make sure he knows who you are and where you’ll be staying. If anything happens to you, he’ll know that I’ve done something and come and arrest me.”
Pursing her lips, I watch her thinking, her thoughts projecting so loudly I can practically hear them. She’s going to say no. I wish that I were willing to accept that, but honestly, I’mnot. Leaving her out here isn’t an option, and neither is watching her pack up and walk away from me.
“You need this. You being out here isn’t okay, so I’m taking you home. You can stay at my place, eat my food, watch my TV, and be safe,” I growl, stepping past her to the other side of her tent and starting to pull the stakes from the ground without bothering to gauge her reaction to my words.
In less than two minutes, I have her tent partially deconstructed and her meager belongings sitting in a pile on the grass, while I slip the poles out and fold the canvas into a small pile.
“No…I,” she says again, for possibly the third or fourth time since I made the decision that she’s coming home with me, no matter how much she argues.
“Do you have a tent bag?” I ask, ignoring her weak protests.
“Yes,” she whispers, unzipping a pocket on her ancient backpack and handing me a small canvas tote.
Taking it from her, I slip the poles and stakes in first, letting them fall to the bottom before I carefully slide the tent in on top and cinch the drawstring fastening closed. Grabbing her sleeping bag and backpack in the same hand, I take her hand and start to walk, not giving her a chance to protest as I lead her away from her makeshift campsite and toward my car.
“I…”
“It’s fine. You’re safe with me, I promise. I’ll take care of you,” I assure her, silently declaring to myself that if she tries to refuse, I’ll throw her over my shoulder and then into my Jeep, because one way or another, I’m taking her home with me.
Neither of us speaks again as we walk along the trail back to the parking lot. Once my Jeep comes into view, her steps falter, but instead of turning around to question if she’s okay, I tighten my hold on her hand and keep moving forward, letting herdecide if she wants to make a scene and fight to free herself or if she’ll just do as she’s told.
A smile splits my lips when she allows me to tow her along, not bothering to protest. When we reach my Jeep, I place her belongings on the ground and pull my keys out, unlocking the back door, while my fingers grip hers tightly. I’m not against the idea of chasing her down if she tries to run, but I’d rather not—at least not while there might be witnesses around to see me.
A vision of me chasing her perfect naked ass through our home flashes into my head, and I have to swallow down the growl that builds in my throat. The idea of her bare and waiting for me to catch her suddenly feels like the absolute perfect way for her to greet me after a long few days without her.
“Warrick,” she says, her meek voice dragging me from my dirty thoughts and back to the present.
“Yeah, amore mio,” I say, placing her things in my Jeep and slamming the back door closed before I turn to look at her.
Her eyes dart to the closed door, then back to me again. “I think it’s best if I just move on. We don’t know each other?—”
“We’ll get to know each other quickly when we’re living in the same house,” I say, speaking over her as I guide her to the passenger door, opening it for her before I deliberately crowd her personal space, using my much bigger body to force her into the car.
The moment she’s in the seat, I close her door. Then I stride confidently to the driver’s side, deliberately not locking the doors—even though I want to—because she isn’t my prisoner, and I’ve already made the decision that there’s no way I’m leaving here without her.
“What do you feel like eating?” I ask, slipping into the seat beside hers and turning the key to start the engine. “Or would you rather we hit the sheriff’s office before we get food?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
“You really think the sheriff’s office will vouch for you?” she questions.
“I’m not sure if I mentioned it, but I work for the rural firefighting department. I’m one hundred percent confident that they’ll vouch for me. I’d never do anything to hurt you, but I want you to know you’re safe with me.”
“Okay,” she says, dropping her eyes to focus on her hands in her lap.
The drive to the sheriff’s department is fairly short, and I try to ignore Verity’s visceral anxiety as we traverse parts of the town she’s clearly not familiar with. Her exhale of relief when she spots the sheriff’s office is so loud, her cheeks heat when she hears it.
“Don’t worry, kidnapping isn’t on today’s to-do list,” I joke, turning off the engine and opening my car door. Trying not to be too forceful, I don’t demand that she stay put so I can open her door, even though it makes my teeth grind together when she throws open the car and stumbles out onto the sidewalk.
