Page 98 of Wild Embers
“Why not?” He returns with a shrug.
“Because of this,” I return, dropping my hold on him and gesturing at my mess on the wall and my outfit.
Santiago waves his hand at the wall. “That’ll all be here tomorrow.” He takes a couple of steps backward. “As for this,” he motions to my clothes, “I can help with that right now.”
He spins on his heel and heads for the closet. He digs around, looking through my wardrobe.
“Santi, I’m tired,” I complain as I trudge over and toss myself onto the bed.
Santiago pauses his search and puts his hand on my mug. “Your cup is empty, and it’s still warm. I’m pretty sure you’re wired.” Then he pulls out a simple pair of wide-leg pants, a cropped tank, and a chunky cardigan and tosses the clothing at me.
Of course, he picks out an outfit that’s the perfect mix of cute and comfortable.
What is he? A fashion guru?
Setting the outfit aside, I shake my head. “I’ll pass this time.” He approaches me with a determined look. “What’re you—” He dips, wrapping his arms around my waist and digging his shoulder into my gut. When he stands, my world gets flipped upside down. “Santiago Ramirez! Put me down!”
“You’ll thank me later,” he says proudly as he gives my ass a calming pat. Santiago jostles me around as he squats, gathering my clothes.
“When pigs fly!” I shout. “Bear, get him!” I snap my fingers, hoping he comes to my rescue.
Bear stands, looks to Santiago and me, then turns in a circle, lying down with his back to me.
“Traitor.”
Santiago chuckles as he strides for the door. “Even Bear thinks you need a break.”
“I saved your life,” I plead with Bear.
“Technically, that was Levi,” Santiago corrects as he hauls me outside and marches to his truck. My body instantly freezes, and I momentarily regret not changing first.
However, being kidnapped by a six-foot-something rancher technically moves the accountability to him.
Reverently, Santiago sets me in the cab and buckles me in.
“I can do that,” I snap.
He just smirks. “But I do it so much better.”
When he rounds the hood, heading for his own door, I contemplate running back to my room and locking the door, but then I remember that I don’t have shoes on.
Great.
As Santiago slides in with me, he turns the key in the ignition and tosses me the clothes again. “You can change in here.”
“In front of you?” I question outraged.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before,mi Cielo.” He returns smugly.
“I don’t have any?—”
“Shoes?” He reaches his hand down to the floor and flings a pair of boots at me.
Myboots.
When did he grab these?
My eyes narrow, and Santiago smiles back.
