Page 25 of Calling a Cease-Fire

“Nope. I know exactly where it is. Not far from where I grew up.”

I took her in as she pulled out of the lot onto the windy road that led out of town. The rage room was a little bit of a drive, and the farther we got from work, the more her shoulders slowly began to ease away from her ears. Eventually, a slight smile even lifted her lips. I resisted the urge to tug on her tight bun at the nape of her neck. Would her hair have a natural wave to it as it tumbled down around her shoulders? How would it feel wrapped around my fist? My thoughts drifted to dirtier images—bending her over the hood of my Jeep as I held her hair in my hand and drilled into her, making her scream out my name.

She glanced over at me with a raised brow. “Are you going to spend the whole time watching me like a hawk? What, afraid I’ll wreck your baby?”

I blinked and pulled my gaze away with a shrug. “Nah. I’ll just buy another one. One thing you learn quickly in this job is cars can be easily replaced. Unlike people.”

The moment the words passed through my lips, Mia stiffened and some of the color drained from her face.

Shit. I was an asshole of epic proportions. Here I was trying to find a way to take her mind off things, and I likely just reminded her of the woman who died today, probably while on the phone with Mia. I couldn’t imagine the turmoil of listening to someone dying and not being able to save them.

“I’m sorry, Raven.”

Her head whipped my way, and she sent me a scowl. “Don’t call me that,” she snapped.

I flinched. Obviously she didn’t remember what I told her after taking her home the other night. Or she didn’t care that I explained it was a compliment. And even though she lashed out at me just then, I knew it wasn’t really directed at me.

I sat quietly, avoiding her gaze. Nothing I could say would likely soothe her ruffled feathers.

She sighed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just”—her voice lowered to barely a whisper—“tired.”

“Is that code for I had a shit day and you’re pissing me off?”

She smiled and side-eyed me. “I don’t need to have a shit day for you to piss me off.”

I grinned at her. “Sounds about right.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you ever get mad? Or really sad? Especially after a day like today. Like seriously, how are you always so happy? It’s annoying.”

I laughed. “I come to this place at least once a week, sometimes twice. Destroy every single thing I can. It helps.”

We drove for a few minutes without speaking before she pushed the volume button on the steering wheel, turning up the song on the radio.

I sang along to “Play It Again.” And not just softly. When I sang, I did it with pizzazz, hand gestures, and belting it.

When I sang about taking my hand, I reached out toward her. She pushed me away with an eye roll, but it was obvious she wanted to laugh at me. She seemed ten times lighter and more relaxed than when she’d walked out of work. And damn, it was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

“You’re ridiculous.” She shook her head, her lips still twitching as she fought back a smile. “You probably do karaoke.”

She said it like it was fact. Like she didn’t need me to confirm. But I did anyway. “Any chance I get. Who doesn’t love karaoke?”

“Me.” She scoffed. “I only sing in the shower.”

I bit back a groan as images of her naked, water running down her body, assaulted me. I shifted uncomfortably, praying my now hard cock didn’t give me away.

I had to change the subject to something safer. “Have you ever been to a rage room before?”

She shook her head. “No. Didn’t even know they existed until you sent me that link.”

“You’re gonna love it.”

“I don’t know.” Her nose wrinkled. “How will breaking stuff help me forget?”

“It’s not going to help you forget, but hopefully it’ll help release some of the pent-up frustration and sadness.”

“I just want to forget.”