I bolted out of his house this morning because I wasn’t waiting around for him to give me my marching orders. I would have never in a million years guessed he’d continue the cat and mouse game we’ve been playing the past few months.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. I’m just shocked.
Not as much as I was when my endeavor to sneak out of his house unannounced was foiled by his father. . .
I sneakily tiptoe out of Nick’s bedroom a little after 10 AM. My body is aching, but the relief I feel when I hit the front patio unnoticed makes up for the stealthy steps I uses to exit his house undetected.
I think I’m in the clear. . . until my gallop down the front three stairs has me stumbling upon an unknown spectator.
“Good morning,” greets a deep voice behind me.
I freeze in place, my pulse skyrocketing to match my panic, before I pivot to face the voice. Although my eyes are blurry from a lack of sleep, they have no trouble assessing an older yet still handsome gentleman sitting on a swinging chair at the side of the wooden porch.
“Good morning,” my voice shudders, mortified I’ve been busted doing the walk of shame. My hair is a mess; my dress is crumpled, and I’m carrying my shoes in my hand. The signs don’t get more obvious than this.
The blond gentleman stands to his feet and ambles closer to me. “Do you need a lift home?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s fine. I’ll call a taxi.”
His brows furrow as his lips purse. When he scans our location, I follow his gaze, inwardly cursing. I’m in the middle of Timbuktu. There isn’t another house as far as the eye can see. When Nick drove us here last night, I didn’t pay attention to my surroundings. I was too busy getting my heart rate under control to concentrate on anything else.
I return my eyes to the unnamed gentleman. “Do cabs come out here?”
Smiling a shy grin, he shakes his head.
Crap!
“I’ll grab my keys.” Not giving me the chance to protest, he reenters his home.
The drive to my house is as awkward as they come. I watch the scenery flicking by the passenger side window, wanting to say something, but unsure what I can say to lessen the discomfort.
By the time his big blue truck pulls into the front gate of my parents’ property, over twenty minutes of silence has passed between us.
“Impressive.” A notable whistle sounds from his circled lips. He smiles at my grimace. His home is cute and friendly-looking. Mine is a modern-day eyesore.
I awkwardly slide out of his car, my dress so tight, I can’t step down. After adjusting my hem to a decent length, I lift my eyes to his. “Thank you for the lift.”
He dips his chin before releasing his parking brake and reversing out of the driveway. His twenty-minute trip home doesn’t start until he watches me enter the heavy front door of my home.
His caution isn’t necessary. The only person I need protecting from is my father, who’s standing in the foyer, glaring at me.
“You’re lucky you're an adult, young lady,” he snarls through clenched teeth before storming into his office.
I stand in the foyer for several long minutes, utterly shocked and hurt. This is the first time I’ve made my dad upset, and I don’t like it.
After running upstairs for a quick shower and a change of clothes, I head back downstairs to confront my dad. I’m an adult, but I also understand he’ll always see me as his little girl. . .
Our conversation went a lot better than I was expecting. My dad only issued one death threat against Nick during his hour-long lecture. A lot of what he said was true, and it strengthened my belief that Nick would no longer be in the picture now that our game of chase was over.
Now. . . now I’m not sure what to think. Nick broke several rules Christian disclosed on the “player” lifestyle last night. Is today just another bend of the rules? Or are an entirely new set of rules being brought into play?
I hope it's the latter.
* * *
I don’t get a chance to talk to Nick all afternoon. Slater hasn’t left my side—not even for a second. He’s even walking me to my car to ensure he maintains an amicable distance between Nick and me.
When I spot Nick shadowing us, my pulse quickens. He looks determined, like he’s had enough of Slater’s games, and he’s ready to put an end to it.
