Page 7 of Wrangled
Why I feel safe in this man’s presence is beyond me. I recognize danger when I see it, but for some reason, my senses aren’t going off. It’s as if I’ve convinced myself that he might be a danger to others, but he’s not to me. And that’s crazy talk because I don’t know this man from Adam. What I do know is that his brother is the spawn of Satan and that he might be the only person my father is wary of.
I must drift off, my wayward thoughts distracting me. I wake up because the car has stopped, only I don’t recognize where I am.
I turn to look at Austin. For the first time, I feel unsure about my actions. He might have been kind to me, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have an ulterior motive. “Austin?”
He reaches over and lightly grabs my elbow. My sleeve slips up, revealing my birthmark. Austin’s eyes drift down to it. Hefrowns, but he doesn’t ask any questions as I tug my arm free and my sleeve down.
“You need some place to relax where people won’t bother you. There is no place better than this.”
“And where exactly is this?” I ask warily as I glance out at the large house.
“Home.”
Chapter Three
Inever really understood the expression “jumping from the frying pan into the fire” before now. As I walk into the belly of the beast, I can’t help but think about how woefully naive I’ve been. Sure, on paper, I’m smarter than most of my peers, thanks to an abnormally high IQ, but that doesn’t mean I’m smart in areas that count. If I were, I’d have figured out a way to escape years ago.
Austin ushers me into the kitchen and tells me to take a seat at the island. I do, still confused as to what’s going on.
“Sandwich?”
“Um…sure. I can make it, though, if you want?”
He turns to look at me, amusement on his usually stern face. “You’re going to make yourself a sandwich in my house?”
“No? Yes? Maybe?”
He shakes his head, muttering something about foolhardy girls as he empties half the contents of his fridge onto the counter.
“You eat meat?” He eyes me, and now it’s his turn to look wary.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of vegetarians?” I tease.
“I don’t trust people who don’t eat meat.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate.”
He pauses, his hand on the bread. “Don’t you live on a cattle ranch?”
“Yes.”
“So how can you not eat meat?”
I smirk, unable to help myself. He’s acting like I just told him Santa isn’t real. “It’s kind of traumatizing to realize that Daisy, the calf I helped deliver and doted on, is also the same half-masticated corpse on my plate.”
His shoulders slump in defeat. He might not like it, but he gets it. He looks me over and shakes his head. “Yeah, I can imagine that would scar a kid.”
He doesn’t know the half of it. But I don’t want to ruin the light moment by admitting my father has killed any animal I’ve shown love toward, including the family dog and the litter of kittens born in the barn. The only reason Willow, my horse, has escaped that fate is because of how much she is worth.
“What about cheese? Is that okay, or are you vegan?”
He says “vegan” with a grimace. As much as I’d like to toy with him, my strength is waning, and I’d rather use it to keep my wits about me.
“Cheese is life.”
He chuckles at that. “Phew, at least on that we can agree.”
He assembles a sandwich with lettuce, tomato, thick slabs of cheese, pickles, and mayo. I hide my smile that after the meat question, he didn’t ask me what I liked. It’s a good thing I’m good with everything because I’d have forced myself to eat it anyway. I’m not used to people doing kind things for me, and I wouldn’t want to ruin it.
